PART II

APPENDIX

APPENDIX CONTENTS

I. SHAKESPEARE'S ATTITUDE TOWARD THE

WORKING CLASSES, BY ERNEST CROSBY, 127

II. LETTER FROM MR. G. BERNARD SHAW, 166

SHAKESPEARE'S ATTITUDE TOWARD THE WORKING CLASSES

BY ERNEST CROSBY

"Shakespeare was of us," cries Browning, in his "Lost Leader," while

lamenting the defection of Wordsworth from the ranks of progress and

liberalism--"Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley were with us--they watch

from their graves!" There can, indeed, be no question of the fidelity to

democracy of Milton, the republican pamphleteer, nor of Burns, the proud

plowman, who proclaimed the fact that "a man's a man for a' that," nor

of Shelley, the awakened aristocrat, who sang to such as Burns

"Men of England, wherefore plow

For the lords who lay ye low?"

But Shakespeare?--Shakespeare?--where is there a line in Shakespeare to

entitle him to a place in this brotherhood? Is there anything in his

plays that is in the least inconsistent with all that is reactionary?

A glance at Shakespeare's lists of _dramatis personae_ is sufficient to

show that he was unable to conceive of any situation rising to the

dignity of tragedy in other than royal and ducal circles. It may be said

in explanation of this partiality for high rank that he was only

following the custom of the dramatists of his time, but this is a poor

plea for a man of great genius, whose business it is precisely to lead

and not to follow. Nor is the explanation altogether accurate. In his

play, the "Pinner of Wakefield," first printed in 1599, Robert Greene

makes a hero, and a very stalwart one, of a mere pound-keeper, who

proudly refuses knighthood at the hands of the king. There were other

and earlier plays in vogue in Shakespeare's day treating of the triumphs

of men of the people, one, for instance, which commemorated the rise of

Sir Thomas Gresham, the merchant's son, and another, entitled "The

History of Richard Whittington, of his Low Birth, his Great Fortune";

but he carefully avoided such material in seeking plots for his dramas.

Cardinal Wolsey, the butcher's son, is indeed the hero of "Henry VIII.,"

but his humble origin is only mentioned incidentally as something to be

ashamed of. What greater opportunity for idealizing the common people

ever presented itself to a dramatist than to Shakespeare when he

undertook to draw the character of Joan of Arc in the second part of

"Henry VI."? He knew how to create noble women--that is one of his

special glories--but he not only refuses to see anything noble in the

peasant girl who led France to victory, but he deliberately insults her

memory with the coarsest and most cruel calumnies. Surely the lapse of

more than a century and a half might have enabled a man of honor, if not

of genius, to do justice to an enemy of the weaker sex, and if Joan had

been a member of the French royal family we may be sure that she would

have received better treatment.

The question of the aristocratic tendency of the drama was an active one

in Shakespeare's time. There was a good deal of democratic feeling in

the burghers of London-town, and they resented the courtly prejudices of

their playwrights and their habit of holding up plain citizens to

ridicule upon the stage, whenever they deigned to present them at all.

The Prolog in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Knight of the Burning Pestle"

gives sufficient evidence of this. The authors adopted the device of

having a Citizen leap upon the stage and interrupt the Speaker of the

Prolog by shouting

"Hold your peace, goodman boy!"

Speaker of Prolog: "What do you mean, sir?"

Citizen: "That you have no good meaning; this seven

year there hath been plays at this house. I have observed

it, you have still girds at citizens."

The Citizen goes on to inform the Speaker of the Prolog that he is a

grocer, and to demand that he "present something notably in honor of the

commons of the city." For a hero he will have "a grocer, and he shall do

admirable things." But this proved to be a joke over too serious a

matter, for at the first representation of the play in 1611 it was cried

down by the citizens and apprentices, who did not appreciate its satire

upon them, and it was not revived for many years thereafter. It will not

answer, therefore, to say that the idea of celebrating the middle and

lower classes never occurred to Shakespeare, for it was a subject of

discussion among his contemporaries.

It is hardly possible to construct a play with no characters but

monarchs and their suites, and at the same time preserve the

verisimilitudes of life. Shakespeare was obliged to make some use of

servants, citizens, and populace. How has he portrayed them? In one play

alone has he given up the whole stage to them, and it is said that the

"Merry Wives of Windsor" was only written at the request of Queen

Elizabeth, who wished to see Sir John Falstaff in love. It is from

beginning to end one prolonged "gird at citizens," and we can hardly

wonder that they felt a grievance against the dramatic profession. In

the other plays of Shakespeare the humbler classes appear for the main

part only occasionally and incidentally. His opinion of them is

indicated more or less picturesquely by the names which he selects for

them. There are, for example, Bottom, the weaver; Flute, the

bellows-maker; Snout and Sly, tinkers; Quince, the carpenter; Snug, the

joiner; Starveling, the tailor; Smooth, the silkman; Shallow and

Silence, country justices; Elbow and Hull, constables; Dogberry and

Verges, Fang and Snare, sheriffs' officers; Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, and

Bull-calf, recruits; Feebee, at once a recruit and a woman's tailor,

Pilch and Patch-Breech, fishermen (though these last two appellations

may be mere nicknames); Potpan, Peter Thump, Simple, Gobbo, and Susan

Grindstone, servants; Speed, "a clownish servant"; Slender, Pistol, Nym,

Sneak, Doll Tear-sheet, Jane Smile, Costard, Oatcake, Seacoal, and

various anonymous "clowns" and "fools." Shakespeare rarely gives names

of this character to any but the lowly in life, altho perhaps we should

cite as exceptions Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague-Cheek in "Twelfth

Night"; the vicar, Sir Oliver Mar-Text, in "As You Like It"; Moth, the

page, in "Love's Labor Lost," and Froth, "a foolish gentleman," in

"Measure for Measure," but none of these personages quite deserves to

rank as an aristocrat. Such a system of nomenclature as we have exposed

is enough of itself to fasten the stigma of absurdity upon the

characters subjected to it, and their occupations. Most of the trades

are held up for ridicule in "Midsummer Night's Dream"; Holofernes, the

schoolmaster, is made ridiculous in "Love's Labor Lost," and we are told

of the middle-class Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph that "three such antics do

not amount to a man" (Henry V., Act 3, Sc. 2). But it is not necessary

to rehearse the various familiar scenes in which these fantastically

named individuals raise a laugh at their own expense.

The language employed by nobility and royalty in addressing those of

inferior station in Shakespeare's plays may be taken, perhaps, rather as

an indication of the manners of the times than as an expression of his

own feeling, but even so it must have been a little galling to the

poorer of his auditors. "Whoreson dog," "whoreson peasant," "slave,"

"you cur," "rogue," "rascal," "dunghill," "crack-hemp," and "notorious

villain"--these are a few of the epithets with which the plays abound.

The Duke of York accosts Thomas Horner, an armorer, as "base dunghill

villain and mechanical" (Henry VI., Part 2, Act 2, Sc. 3); Gloster

speaks of the warders of the Tower as "dunghill grooms" (Ib., Part 1,

Act 1, Sc. 3), and Hamlet of the grave-digger as an "ass" and "rude

knave." Valentine tells his servant, Speed, that he is born to be hanged

(Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act 1, Sc. 1), and Gonzalo pays a like

compliment to the boatswain who is doing his best to save the ship in

the "Tempest" (Act 1, Sc. 1). This boatswain is not sufficiently

impressed by the grandeur of his noble cargo, and for his pains is

called a "brawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog," a "cur," a

"whoreson, insolent noise-maker," and a "wide-chapped rascal." Richard

III.'s Queen says to a gardener, who is guilty of nothing but giving a

true report of her lord's deposition and who shows himself a

kind-hearted fellow, "Thou little better thing than earth," "thou

wretch"! Henry VIII. talks of a "lousy footboy," and the Duke of

Suffolk, when he is about to be killed by his pirate captor at Dover,

calls him "obscure and lowly swain," "jaded groom," and "base slave,"

dubs his crew "paltry, servile, abject drudges," and declares that his

own head would

"sooner dance upon bloody pole

Than stand uncovered to a vulgar groom."

(Henry VI., Part 2, Act 4, Sc. 1.)

Petruchio "wrings Grumio by the ear," and Katherine beats the same

unlucky servant. His master indulges in such terms as "foolish knave,"

"peasant swain," and "whoreson malthorse drudge" in addressing him;

cries out to his servants, "off with my boots, you rogues, you

villains!" and strikes them. He pays his compliments to a tailor in the

following lines:

"O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou thimble,

Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,

Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thou;

Braved in my own house by a skein of thread!

Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant!"

(Taming of the Shrew, Act 4, Sc. 3.)

Joan of Arc speaks of her "contemptible estate" as a shepherd's

daughter, and afterward, denying her father, calls him "Decrepit miser!

base, ignoble wretch!" (Henry VI., Part 1, Act 1, Sc. 2, and Act 5, Sc.

4.) It is hard to believe that Shakespeare would have so frequently

allowed his characters to express their contempt for members of the

lower orders of society if he had not had some sympathy with their

opinions.

Shakespeare usually employs the common people whom he brings upon the

stage merely to raise a laugh (as, for instance, the flea-bitten

carriers in the inn-yard at Rochester, in Henry IV., Part 1, Act 2, Sc.

1), but occasionally they are scamps as well as fools. They amuse us

when they become hopelessly entangled in their sentences (_vide_ Romeo

and Juliet, Act 1, Sc. 2), or when Juliet's nurse blunderingly makes

her think that Romeo is slain instead of Tybalt; but when this same

lady, after taking Romeo's money, espouses the cause of the County

Paris--or when on the eve of Agincourt we are introduced to a group of

cowardly English soldiers--or when Coriolanus points out the poltroonery

of the Roman troops, and says that all would have been lost "but for our

gentlemen," we must feel detestation for them. Juliet's nurse is not the

only disloyal servant. Shylock's servant, Launcelot Gobbo, helps Jessica

to deceive her father, and Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, brings

about the disgrace of her mistress by fraud. Olivia's waiting-woman in

"Twelfth Night" is honest enough, but she is none too modest in her

language, but in this respect Dame Quickly in "Henry IV." can easily

rival her. Peter Thump, when forced to a judicial combat with his

master, displays his cowardice, altho in the end he is successful (Henry

VI., Act 2, Part 2, Sc. 3), and Stephano, a drunken butler, adorns the

stage in the "Tempest." We can not blame Shakespeare for making use of

cutthroats and villains in developing his plots, but we might have been

spared the jokes which the jailors of Posthumus perpetrate when they

come to lead him to the scaffold, and the ludicrous English of the clown

who supplies Cleopatra with an asp. The apothecary who is in such

wretched plight that he sells poison to Romeo in spite of a Draconian

law, gives us another unflattering picture of a tradesman; and when

Falstaff declares, "I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or

anything," we have a premature reflection on the Puritan, middle-class

conscience and religion. In "As You Like It," Shakespeare came near

drawing a pastoral sketch of shepherds and shepherdesses on conventional

lines. If he failed to do so, it was as much from lack of respect for

the keeping of sheep as for the unrealities of pastoral poetry. Rosalind

does not scruple to call the fair Phebe "foul," and, as for her hands,

she says:

"I saw her hand; she has a leathern hand,

A freestone colored hand; I verily did think

That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands;

She has a housewife's hand."

No one with a high respect for housewifery could have written that line.

When in the same play Jaques sees the pair of rural lovers, Touchstone

and Audrey, approaching, he cries: "There is, sure, another flood, and

these couples are coming to the ark! Here come a pair of very strange

beasts, which in all tongues are called fools" (Act 5, Sc. 4). The

clown, Touchstone, speaks of kissing the cow's dugs which his former

sweetheart had milked, and then marries Audrey in a tempest of

buffoonery. Howbeit, Touchstone remains one of the few rustic characters

of Shakespeare who win our affections, and at the same time he is witty

enough to deserve the title which Jaques bestows upon him of a "rare

fellow."

Occasionally Shakespeare makes fun of persons who are somewhat above the

lower classes in rank. I have mentioned those on whom he bestows

comical names. He indulges in humor also at the expense of the two

Scottish captains, Jamy and Macmorris, and the honest Welsh captain,

Fluellen (Henry V., Act 3, Sc. 2 _et passim_), and shall we forget the

inimitable Falstaff? But, while making every allowance for these

diversions into somewhat nobler quarters (the former of which are

explained by national prejudices), do they form serious exceptions to

the rule, and can Falstaff be taken, for instance, as a representative

of the real aristocracy? As Queen and courtiers watched his antics on

the stage, we may be sure that it never entered their heads that the

"girds" were directed at them or their kind.

The appearance on Shakespeare's stage of a man of humble birth who is

virtuous without being ridiculous is so rare an event that it is worth

while to enumerate the instances. Now and then a servant or other

obscure character is made use of as a mere lay figure of which nothing

good or evil can be predicated, but usually they are made more or less

absurd. Only at long intervals do we see persons of this class at once

serious and upright. As might have been expected, it is more often the

servant than any other member of the lower classes to whom Shakespeare

attributes good qualities, for the servant is a sort of attachment to

the gentleman and shines with the reflection of his virtues. The noblest

quality which Shakespeare can conceive of in a servant is loyalty, and

in "Richard II." (Act 5, Sc. 3) he gives us a good example in the

character of a groom who remains faithful to the king even when the

latter is cast into prison. In "Cymbeline" we are treated to loyalty _ad

nauseam_. The king orders Pisanio, a trusty servant, to be tortured

without cause, and his reply is,

"Sir, my life is yours.

I humbly set it at your will."

(Act 4, Sc. 3.)

In "King Lear" a good servant protests against the cruelty of Regan and

Cornwall toward Gloucester, and is killed for his courage. "Give me my

sword," cries Regan. "A peasant stand up thus!" (Act 3, Sc. 7). And

other servants also show sympathy for the unfortunate earl. We all

remember the fool who, almost alone, was true to Lear, but, then, of

course, he was a fool. In "Timon of Athens" we have an unusual array of

good servants, but it is doubtful if Shakespeare wrote the play, and

these characters make his authorship more doubtful. Flaminius, Timon's

servant, rejects a bribe with scorn (Act 3, Sc. 1). Another of his

servants expresses his contempt for his master's false friends (Act 3,

Sc. 3), and when Timon finally loses his fortune and his friends forsake

him, his servants stand by him. "Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery"

(Act 4, Sc. 2). Adam, the good old servant in "As You Like It," who

follows his young master Orlando into exile, is, like Lear's fool, a

noteworthy example of the loyal servitor.

"Master, go on, and I will follow thee

To the last gasp with truth and loyalty."

(Act 2, Sc. 3.)

But Shakespeare takes care to point out that such fidelity in servants

is most uncommon and a relic of the good old times--

"O good old man, bow well in thee appears

The constant service of the antique world,

When service sweat for duty, nor for meed!

Thou art not for the fashion of these times,

When none will sweat but for promotion."

Outside the ranks of domestic servants we find a few cases of honorable

poverty in Shakespeare. In the play just quoted, Corin, the old

shepherd, says:

"Sir, I am a true laborer; I earn that I eat, get that I

wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of

other men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of

my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck."

(As You Like It, Act 3, Sc. 2.)

in short, an ideal proletarian from the point of view of the aristocrat.

The "Winter's Tale" can boast of another good shepherd (Act 3, Sc. 3),

but he savors a little of burlesque. "Macbeth" has several humble

worthies. There is a good old man in the second act (Sc. 2), and a good

messenger in the fourth (Sc. 2). King Duncan praises highly the sergeant

who brings the news of Macbeth's victory, and uses language to him such

as Shakespeare's yeomen are not accustomed to hear (Act 1, Sc. 2). And

in "Antony and Cleopatra" we make the acquaintance of several exemplary

common soldiers. Shakespeare puts flattering words into the mouth of

Henry V. when he addresses the troops before Agincourt:

"For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile

This day shall gentle his condition."

(Act 4, Sc. 4.)

And at Harfleur he is even more complaisant:

"And you, good yeomen,

Whose limbs were made in England, shew us here

The metal of your pasture; let us swear

That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not,

For there is none of you so mean and base

That hath not noble luster in your eyes." (Act 3, Sc. 1.)

The rank and file always fare well before a battle.

"Oh, it's 'Tommy this' and 'Tommy that' an' 'Tommy, go away';

But it's 'Thank you, Mr. Atkins,' when the band begins to play."

I should like to add some instances from Shakespeare's works of serious

and estimable behavior on the part of individuals representing the lower

classes, or of considerate treatment of them on the part of their

"betters," but I have been unable to find any, and the meager list must

end here.

But to return to Tommy Atkins. He is no longer Mr. Atkins after the

battle. Montjoy, the French herald, comes to the English king under a

flag of truce and asks that they be permitted to bury their dead and

"Sort our nobles from our common men;

For many of our princes (wo the while!)

Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood;

So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs

In blood of princes." (Henry V., Act 4, Sc. 7.)

With equal courtesy Richard III., on Bosworth field, speaks of his

opponents to the gentlemen around him:

"Remember what you are to cope withal--

A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,

A scum of Bretagne and base lackey peasants."

(Act 5, Sc. 3.)

But Shakespeare does not limit such epithets to armies. Having, as we

have seen, a poor opinion of the lower classes, taken man by man, he

thinks, if anything, still worse of them taken _en masse_, and at his

hands a crowd of plain workingmen fares worst of all. "Hempen

home-spuns," Puck calls them, and again

"A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,

That work for bread upon Athenian stalls."

Bottom, their leader, is, according to Oberon, a "hateful fool," and

according to Puck, the "shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort"

(Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 3, Scs. 1 and 2, Act 4, Sc. 1). Bottom's

advice to his players contains a small galaxy of compliments:

"In any case let Thisby have clean linen, and let not him

that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out

for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onion or

garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath, and I do not doubt

to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy."

(Ib., Act 4, Sc. 2.)

The matter of the breath of the poor weighs upon Shakespeare and his

characters. Cleopatra shudders at the thought that

"mechanic slaves,

With greasy aprons, rules and hammers, shall

Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths

Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded,

And forced to drink their vapor."

(Antony and Cleopatra, Act 5, Sc. 2.)

Coriolanus has his sense of smell especially developed. He talks of the

"stinking breaths" of the people (Act 2, Sc. 1), and in another place

says:

"You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate

As reek of rotten fens, whose love I prize

As the dead carcasses of unburied men

That do corrupt the air, I banish you,"

and he goes on to taunt them with cowardice (Act 3, Sc. 3). They are the

"mutable, rank-scented many" (Act 3, Sc. 1). His friend Menenius is

equally complimentary to his fellow citizens. "You are they," says he,

"That make the air unwholesome, when you cast

Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at

Coriolanus's exile."

(Act 4, Sc. 7.)

And he laughs at the "apron-men" of Cominius and their "breath of

garlic-eaters" (Act 4, Sc. 7). When Coriolanus is asked to address the

people, he replies by saying: "Bid them wash their faces, and keep their

teeth clean" (Act 2, Sc. 3). According to Shakespeare, the Roman

populace had made no advance in cleanliness in the centuries between

Coriolanus and Caesar. Casca gives a vivid picture of the offer of the

crown to Julius, and his rejection of it: "And still as he refused it

the rabblement shouted, and clapped their chapped hands, and threw up

their sweaty night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath,

because Caesar refused the crown, that it had almost choked Caesar, for he

swooned 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." And he calls

them the "tag-rag people" (Julius Caesar, Act 1, Sc. 2). The play of

"Coriolanus" is a mine of insults to the people and it becomes tiresome

to quote them. The hero calls them the "beast with many heads" (Act 4,

Sc. 3), and again he says to the crowd:

"What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,

That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion

Make yourself scabs?

First Citizen. We have ever your good word.

Coriolanus. He that will give good words to ye will flatter

Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,

That like not peace nor war? The one affrights you,

The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,

Where he would find you lions, finds you hares;

Where foxes, geese; you are no surer, no,

Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is

To make him worthy whose offense subdues him,

And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness

Deserves your hate; and your affections are

A sick man's appetite, who desires most that

Which would increase his evil. He that depends

Upon your favors, swims with fins of lead,

And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye?

With every minute you do change a mind,

And call him noble that was now your hate,

Him vile that was your garland."

(Act 1, Sc. 1.)

His mother, Volumnia, is of like mind. She calls the people "our general

louts" (Act 3, Sc. 2). She says to Junius Brutus, the tribune of the

people:

"'Twas you incensed the rabble,

Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth

As I can of those mysteries which Heaven

Will not leave Earth to know."

(Act 4, Sc. 2).

In the same play Cominius talks of the "dull tribunes" and "fusty

plebeians" (Act 1, Sc. 9). Menenius calls them "beastly plebeians" (Act

2, Sc. 1), refers to their "multiplying spawn" (Act 2, Sc. 2), and says

to the crowd:

"Rome and her rats are at the point of battle."

(Act 1, Sc. 2).

The dramatist makes the mob cringe before Coriolanus. When he appears,

the stage directions show that the "citizens steal away." (Act 1, Sc.

1.)

As the Roman crowd of the time of Coriolanus is fickle, so is that of

Caesar's. Brutus and Antony sway them for and against his assassins with

ease:

"First Citizen. This Caesar was a tyrant.

Second Citizen. Nay, that's certain.

We are blessed that Rome is rid of him....

First Citizen. (After hearing a description of the murder.)

O piteous spectacle!

2 Cit. O noble Caesar!

3 Cit. O woful day!

4 Cit. O traitors, villains!

1 Cit. O most bloody sight!

2 Cit. We will be revenged; revenge! about--seek--burn,

fire--kill--slay--let not a traitor live!" (Act 3, Sc. 2.)

The Tribune Marullus reproaches them with having forgotten Pompey, and

calls them

"You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things."

He persuades them not to favor Caesar, and when they leave him he asks

his fellow tribune, Flavius,

"See, whe'r their basest metal be not moved?"

(Act 1, Sc. 1.)

Flavius also treats them with scant courtesy:

"Hence, home, you idle creatures, get you home.

Is this a holiday? What! you know not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk

Upon a laboring day without the sign

Of your profession?"

(Ib.)

The populace of England is as changeable as that of Rome, if Shakespeare

is to be believed. The Archbishop of York, who had espoused the cause of

Richard II. against Henry IV., thus soliloquizes:

"The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;

Their over greedy love hath surfeited;

An habitation giddy and unsure

Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

O thou fond many! With what loud applause

Didst thou beat Heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,

Before he was what thou would'st have him be!

And now being trimmed in thine own desires,

Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,

That thou provokest thyself to cast him up.

So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge

Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard,

And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,

And howlst to find it."

(Henry IV., Part 2, Act 1, Sc. 3.)

Gloucester in "Henry VI." (Part 2, Act 2, Sc. 4) notes the fickleness of

the masses. He says, addressing his absent wife:

"Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook

The abject people, gazing on thy face

With envious looks, laughing at thy shame,

That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels

When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets."

When she arrives upon the scene in disgrace, she says to him:

"Look how they gaze;

See how the giddy multitude do point

And nod their heads and throw their eyes on thee.

Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks."

And she calls the crowd a "rabble" (Ib.), a term also used in "Hamlet"

(Act 4, Sc. 5). Again, in part III. of "Henry VI.," Clifford, dying on

the battlefield while fighting for King Henry, cries:

"The common people swarm like summer flies,

And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?

And who shines now but Henry's enemies?"

(Act 2, Sc. 6.)

And Henry himself, conversing with the keepers who have imprisoned him

in the name of Edward IV., says:

"Ah, simple men! you know not what you swear.

Look, as I blow this feather from my face,

And as the air blows it to me again,

Obeying with my wind when I do blow,

And yielding to another when it blows,

Commanded always by the greater gust,

Such is the lightness of you common men."

(Ib., Act 3, Sc. 1.)

Suffolk, in the First Part of the same trilogy (Act 5, Sc. 5), talks of

"worthless peasants," meaning, perhaps, "property-less peasants," and

when Salisbury comes to present the demands of the people, he calls him

"the Lord Ambassador

Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king,"

(Part 2, Act 3, Sc. 2.)

and says:

"'Tis like the Commons, rude unpolished hinds

Could send such message to their sovereign."

Cardinal Beaufort mentions the "uncivil kernes of Ireland" (Ib., Part 2,

Act 3, Sc. 1), and in the same play the crowd makes itself ridiculous by

shouting, "A miracle," when the fraudulent beggar Simpcox, who had

pretended to be lame and blind, jumps over a stool to escape a whipping

(Act 2, Sc. 1). Queen Margaret receives petitioners with the words

"Away, base cullions" (Ib., Act 1, Sc. 3), and among other flattering

remarks applied here and there to the lower classes we may cite the

epithets "ye rascals, ye rude slaves," addressed to a crowd by a porter

in Henry VIII., and that of "lazy knaves" given by the Lord Chamberlain

to the porters for having let in a "trim rabble" (Act 5, Sc. 3). Hubert,

in King John, presents us with an unvarnished picture of the common

people receiving the news of Prince Arthur's death:

"I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,

The whilst his iron did on his anvil cool,

With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news;

Who, with his shears and measure in his hand,

Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste

Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet),

Told of a many thousand warlike French

That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent.

Another lean, unwashed artificer,

Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death."

(Act 4, Sc. 2.)

Macbeth, while sounding the murderers whom he intends to employ, and who

say to him, "We are men, my liege," answers:

"Ay, in the catalogue, ye go for men

As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,

Shoughs, water-sugs, and demi-wolves, are cleped

All by the name of dogs."

(Act 3, Sc. 1.)

As Coriolanus is held up to our view as a pattern of noble bearing

toward the people, so Richard II. condemns the courteous behavior of the

future Henry IV. on his way into banishment. He says:

"Ourselves, and Bushy, Bagot here and Green

Observed his courtship to the common people;

How he did seem to dive into their hearts

With humble and familiar courtesy;

What reverence he did throw away on slaves;

Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles

And patient overbearing of his fortune,

As 'twere to banish their effects with him.

Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;

A brace of draymen did God speed him well

And had the tribute of his supple knee,

With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends.'"

(Richard II., Act 1, Sc. 4.)

The King of France, in "All's Well that Ends Well," commends to Bertram

the example of his late father in his relations with his inferiors:

"Who were below him

He used as creatures of another place,

And bowed his eminent top to their low ranks,

Making them proud of his humility

In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man

Might be a copy to these younger times."

(Act 1, Sc. 2.)

Shakespeare had no fondness for these "younger times," with their

increasing suggestion of democracy. Despising the masses, he had no

sympathy with the idea of improving their condition or increasing their

power. He saw the signs of the times with foreboding, as did his hero,

Hamlet:

"By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it; the

age has grown so picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so near the

heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe." There can easily be too much

liberty, according to Shakespeare--"too much liberty, my Lucio,

liberty" (Measure for Measure, Act 1, Sc. 3), but the idea of too much

authority is foreign to him. Claudio, himself under arrest, sings its

praises:

"Thus can the demi-god, Authority,

Make us pay down for our offense by weight,--

The words of Heaven;--on whom it will, it will;

On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just."

(Ib.)

Ulysses, in "Troilus and Cressida" (Act 1, Sc. 3), delivers a long

panegyric upon authority, rank, and degree, which may be taken as

Shakespeare's confession of faith:

"Degree being vizarded,

Th' unworthiest shews as fairly in the mask.

The heavens themselves, the planets, and this center,

Observe degree, priority, and place,

Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,

Office and custom, in all line of order;

And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol,

In noble eminence enthroned and sphered

Amidst the other; whose med'cinable eye

Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,

And posts, like the commandments of a king,

Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets,

In evil mixture, to disorder wander,

What plagues and what portents! what mutiny!

What raging of the sea, shaking of the earth,

Commotion of the winds, frights, changes, horrors,

Divert and crack, rend and deracinate

The unity and married calm of states

Quite from their fixture! Oh, when degree is shaked,

Which is the ladder of all high designs,

The enterprise is sick. How could communities,

Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,

Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,

The primogenity and due of birth,

Prerogative of age, crowns, scepters, laurels,

But by degree stand in authentic place?

Take but degree away, untune the string,

And hark, what discord follows! each thing meets

In mere oppugnancy; the bounded waters

Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores,

And make a sop of all this solid globe;

Strength should be lord of imbecility,

And the rude son should strike his father dead;

Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong,

(Between whose endless jar justice resides)

Should lose their names, and so should justice too.

Then everything includes itself in power.

Power into will, will into appetite;

And appetite, a universal wolf,

So doubly seconded with will and power,

Must make perforce an universal prey,

And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,

This chaos, when degree is suffocate,

Follows the choking;

And this neglection of degree it is,

That by a pace goes backward, in a purpose

It hath to climb. The General's disdained

By him one step below; he by the next;

That next by him beneath; so every step,

Exampled by the first pace that is sick

Of his superiors, grows to an envious fever

Of pale and bloodless emulation;

And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,

Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,

Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength."

There is no hint in this eloquent apostrophe of the difficulty of

determining among men who shall be the sun and who the satellite, nor of

the fact that the actual arrangements, in Shakespeare's time, at any

rate, depended altogether upon that very force which Ulysses

deprecates. In another scene in the same play the wily Ithacan again

gives way to his passion for authority and eulogizes somewhat

extravagantly the paternal, prying, omnipresent State:

"The providence that's in a watchful state

Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold,

Finds bottom in th' incomprehensive deeps,

Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,

Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.

There is a mystery (with which relation

Durst never meddle) in the soul of state,

Which hath an operation more divine

Than breath or pen can give expressure to."

(Act 3, Sc. 3.)

The State to which Ulysses refers is of course a monarchical State, and

the idea of democracy is abhorrent to Shakespeare. Coriolanus expresses

his opinion of it when he says to the people:

"What's the matter,

That in these several places of the city

You cry against the noble Senate, who,

Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else

Would feed on one another?"

(Act 2, Sc. 1.)

The people should have no voice in the government--

"This double worship,--

Where one part does disdain with cause, the other

Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom,

Can not conclude, but by the yea and no

Of general ignorance,--it must omit

Real necessities, and give away the while

To unstable slightness. Purpose so barred, it follows,

Nothing is done to purpose; therefore, beseech you,

You that will be less fearful than discreet,

That love the fundamental part of state

More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer

A noble life before a long, and wish

To jump a body with a dangerous physic

That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out

The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick

The sweet which is their poison."

(Ib. Act 3, Sc. 1.)

It is the nobility who should rule--

"It is a purposed thing and grows by plot

To curb the will of the nobility;

Suffer't and live with such as can not rule,

Nor ever will be ruled."

(Ib.)

Junius Brutus tries in vain to argue with him, but Coriolanus has no

patience with him, a "triton of the minnows"; and the very fact that

there should be tribunes appointed for the people disgusts him--

"Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,

Of their own choice; one's Junius Brutus,

Sicinus Velutus, and I know not--'Sdeath!

The rabble should have first unroofed the city,

Ere so prevailed with me; it will in time

Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes."

And again:

"The common file, a plague!--Tribunes for them!"

(Act 1, Sc. 6.)

Shakespeare took his material for the drama of "Coriolanus" from

Plutarch's "Lives," and it is significant that he selected from that

list of worthies the most conspicuous adversary of the commonalty that

Rome produced. He presents him to us as a hero, and, so far as he can,

enlists our sympathy for him from beginning to end. When Menenius says

of him:

"His nature is too noble for the world,"

(Act 3, Sc. 1.)

he is evidently but registering the verdict of the author. Plutarch's

treatment of Coriolanus is far different. He exhibits his fine

qualities, but he does not hesitate to speak of his "imperious temper

and that savage manner which was too haughty for a republic." "Indeed,"

he adds, "there is no other advantage to be had from a liberal education

equal to that of polishing and softening our nature by reason and

discipline." He also tells us that Coriolanus indulged his "irascible

passions on a supposition that they have something great and exalted in

them," and that he wanted "a due mixture of gravity and mildness, which

are the chief political virtues and the fruits of reason and education."

"He never dreamed that such obstinacy is rather the effect of the

weakness and effeminacy of a distempered mind, which breaks out in

violent passions like so many tumors." Nor apparently did Shakespeare

ever dream of it either, altho he had Plutarch's sage observations

before him. It is a pity that the great dramatist did not select from

Plutarch's works some hero who took the side of the people, some Agis or

Cleomenes, or, better yet, one of the Gracchi. What a tragedy he might

have based on the life of Tiberius, the friend of the people and the

martyr in their cause! But the spirit which guided Schiller in the

choice of William Tell for a hero was a stranger to Shakespeare's heart,

and its promptings would have met with no response there.

Even more striking is the treatment which the author of "Coriolanus"

metes out to English history. All but two of his English historical

dramas are devoted to the War of the Roses and the incidental struggle

over the French crown. The motive of this prolonged strife--so

attractive to Shakespeare--had much the same dignity which distinguishes

the family intrigues of the Sublime Porte, and Shakespeare presents the

history of his country as a mere pageant of warring royalties and their

trains. When the people are permitted to appear, as they do in Cade's

rebellion, to which Shakespeare has assigned the character of the rising

under Wat Tyler, they are made the subject of burlesque. Two of the

popular party speak as follows:

"John Holland. Well, I say, it was never merry world in

England since gentlemen came up.

George Bevis. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in

handicraftsmen.

John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons."

When Jack Cade, alias Wat Tyler, comes on the scene, he shows himself to

be a braggart and a fool. He says:

"Be brave then, for your captain is brave and vows

reformation. There shall be in England seven half-penny

loaves sold for a penny; the three-hooped pot shall have ten

hoops, and I will make it a felony to drink small beer. All

the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my

palfrey go to grass. And when I am king asking I will be--

All. God save your majesty!

Cade. I thank you, good people--there shall be no money; all

shall eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all

in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship

me their lord."

(Henry VI., Part 2, Act 4, Sc. 2.)

The crowd wishes to kill the clerk of Chatham because he can read,

write, and cast accounts. (Cade. "O monstrous!") Sir Humphrey Stafford

calls them

"Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,

Marked for the gallows."

(Ib.)

Clifford succeeds without much difficulty in turning the enmity of the

mob against France, and Cade ejaculates disconsolately, "Was ever a

feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude?" (Ib., Act 4, Sc.

8.) In the stage directions of this scene, Shakespeare shows his own

opinion of the mob by writing, "Enter Cade and his rabblement." One

looks in vain here as in the Roman plays for a suggestion that poor

people sometimes suffer wrongfully from hunger and want, that they

occasionally have just grievances, and that their efforts to present

them, so far from being ludicrous, are the most serious parts of

history, beside which the struttings of kings and courtiers sink into

insignificance.

One of the popular songs in Tyler's rebellion was the familiar couplet:

"When Adam delved and Eve span,

Who was then the gentleman?"

Shakespeare refers to it in "Hamlet," where the grave-diggers speak as

follows:

"First Clown. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentleman

but gardners, ditchers and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's

profession.

Second Clown. Was he a gentleman?

First Clown. He was the first that ever bore arms.

Second Clown. Why, he had none.

First Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand

the Scripture? The Scripture says, Adam digged; could he dig

without arms?"

(Act 5, Sc. 1.)

That Shakespeare's caricature of Tyler's rebellion is a fair indication

of his view of all popular risings appears from the remarks addressed by

Westmoreland to the Archbishop of York in the Second Part of "Henry IV."

(Act 4, Sc. 1). Says he:

"If that rebellion

Came like itself, in base and abject routs,

Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags,

And countenanced by boys and beggary;

I say if damned commotion so appeared,

In his true, native, and most proper shape,

You, Reverend Father, and these noble lords

Had not been here to dress the ugly form

Of base and bloody insurrection

With your fair honors."

The first and last of Shakespeare's English historical plays, "King

John" and "Henry VIII.," lie beyond the limits of the civil wars, and

each of them treats of a period momentous in the annals of English

liberty, a fact which Shakespeare absolutely ignores. John as king had

two great misfortunes--he suffered disgrace at the hands of his barons

and of the pope. The first event, the wringing of Magna Charta from the

king, Shakespeare passes over. A sense of national pride might have

excused the omission of the latter humiliation, but no, it was a triumph

of authority, and as such Shakespeare must record it for the edification

of his hearers, and consequently we have the king presented on the stage

as meekly receiving the crown from the papal legate (Act 5, Sc. 1).

England was freed from the Roman yoke in the reign of Henry VIII., and

in the drama of that name Shakespeare might have balanced the indignity

forced upon King John, but now he is silent. Nothing must be said

against authority, even against that of the pope, and the play

culminates in the pomp and parade of the christening of the infant

Elizabeth! Such is Shakespeare's conception of history! Who could guess

from reading these English historical plays that throughout the period

which they cover English freedom was growing, that justice and the

rights of man were asserting themselves, while despotism was gradually

curbed and limited? This is the one great glory of English history,

exhibiting itself at Runnymede, reflected in Wyclif and John Ball and

Wat Tyler, and shining dimly in the birth of a national church under the

eighth Henry. As Shakespeare wrote, it was preparing for a new and

conspicuous outburst. When he died, Oliver Cromwell was already

seventeen years of age and John Hampden twenty-two. The spirit of

Hampden was preeminently the English spirit--the spirit which has given

distinction to the Anglo-Saxon race--and he and Shakespeare were

contemporaries, and yet of this spirit not a vestige is to be found in

the English historical plays and no opportunities lost to obliterate or

distort its manifestations. Only in Brutus and his

fellow-conspirators--of all Shakespearian characters--do we find the

least consideration for liberty, and even then he makes the common, and

perhaps in his time the unavoidable, mistake of overlooking the

genuinely democratic leanings of Julius Caesar and the anti-popular

character of the successful plot against him.

It has in all ages been a pastime of noble minds to try to depict a

perfect state of society. Forty years before Shakespeare's birth, Sir

Thomas More published his "Utopia" to the world. Bacon intended to do

the same thing in the "New Atlantis," but never completed the work,

while Sir Philip Sidney gives us his dream in his "Arcadia." Montaigne

makes a similar essay, and we quote from Florio's translation, published

in 1603, the following passage (Montaigne's "Essays," Book I, Chapter

30):

"It is a nation, would I answer Plato, that hath no kind of traffic, no

knowledge of letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate

nor of political superiority; no use of service, of riches, or of

poverty; no contracts, no succession, no dividences; no occupation, but

idle; no respect of kindred, but common; no apparel, but natural; no

manuring of lands; no use of wine, corn, or metal. The very words that

import lying, falsehood, treason, dissimulation, covetousness, envy,

detraction, and pardon were never heard among them."

We may readily infer that Shakespeare found little to sympathize with in

this somewhat extravagant outline of a happy nation, but he goes out of

his way to travesty it. In "The Tempest" he makes Gonzalo, the noblest

character in the play, hold the following language to the inevitable

king (Shakespeare can not imagine even a desert island without a king!):

"Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,

I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries

Execute all things; for no kind of traffic

Would I admit; no name of magistrate;

Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,

And use of service, none; contract, succession,

Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;

No use of metal, corn or wine or oil;

No occupation; all men idle,--all,

And women too, but innocent and pure;

No sovereignty, ...

Sebastian. Yet he would be king on't.

Antonia. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets

the beginning.

Gonzalo. All things in common. Nature should produce

Without sweat or endeavor; treason, felony,

Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

Would I not have; but Nature should bring forth

Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle, whores, and knaves.

Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,

To 'xcel the golden age.

Seb. 'Save his Majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Gon. And do you mark me, sir?

King. Pr'ythee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me.

Gon. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to

minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such

sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh

at nothing.

Ant. 'Twas you we laughed at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing

to you; so you may continue and laugh at nothing still."

(Tempest, Act 2, Sc. 1.)

That all things are not for the best in the best of all possible worlds

would seem to result from the wise remarks made by the fishermen who

enliven the scene in "Pericles, Prince of Tyre." They compare landlords

to whales who swallow up everything, and suggest that the land be purged

of "these drones that rob the bee of her honey"; and Pericles, so far

from being shocked at such revolutionary and vulgar sentiments, is

impressed by their weight, and speaks kindly of the humble philosophers,

who in their turn are hospitable to the shipwrecked prince--all of which

un-Shakespearian matter adds doubt to the authenticity of this drama

(Act 2, Sc. 1).

However keen the insight of Shakespeare may have been into the hearts of

his high-born characters, he had no conception of the unity of the human

race. For him the prince and the peasant were not of the same blood.

"For princes are

A model, which heaven makes like to itself,"

says King Simonides in "Pericles," and here at least we seem to see the

hand of Shakespeare (Act 2, Sc. 2). The two princes, Guiderius and

Arviragus, brought up secretly in a cave, show their royal origin

(Cymbeline, Act 3, Sc. 3), and the servants who see Coriolanus in

disguise are struck by his noble figure (Coriolanus, Act 4, Sc. 5).

Bastards are villains as a matter of course, witness Edmund in "Lear"

and John in "Much Ado about Nothing," and no degree of contempt is too

high for a

"hedge-born swain

That doth presume to boast of gentle blood."

(Henry VI., Part 1, Act 4, Sc. 1.)

Courage is only to be expected in the noble-born. The Duke of York says:

"Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man,

And find no harbor in a royal heart."

(Henry VI., Part 2, Act 3, Sc. 1.)

In so far as the lower classes had any relation to the upper classes, it

was one, thought Shakespeare, of dependence and obligation. It was not

the tiller of the soil who fed the lord of the manor, but rather the

lord who supported the peasant. Does not the king have to lie awake and

take thought for his subjects? Thus Henry V. complains that he can not

sleep

"so soundly as the wretched slave,

Who with a body filled and vacant mind,

Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread,

Never sees horrid night, the child of Hell,

But like a lackey, from the rise to set,

Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night

Sleeps in Elysium....

The slave, a member of the country's peace,

Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wots

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,

Whose hours the peasant best advantages."

(Henry V., Act 4, Sc. 1.)

And these lines occur at the end of a passage in which the king laments

the "ceremony" that oppresses him and confesses that but for it he would

be "but a man." He makes this admission, however, in a moment of danger

and depression. Henry IV. also invokes sleep (Part 2, Act 2, Sc. 1):

"O thou dull god! why liest thou with the vile

In loathsome beds?"

But plain people have to watch at times, and the French sentinel finds

occasion to speak in the same strain:

"Thus are poor servitors

(When others sleep upon their quiet beds)

Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold."

(Henry VI., Part 1, Act 2, Sc. 1.)

Henry VI. is also attracted by the peasant's lot:

"O God, methinks it were a happy life,

To be no better than a homely swain....

... The shepherd's homely curds,

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,

His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

As far beyond a prince's delicates."

(Henry VI., Part 3, Act 2, Sc. 5.)

All of which is natural enough, but savors of cant in the mouths of men

who fought long and hard to maintain themselves upon their thrones.

We have already shown by references to the contemporary drama that the

plea of custom is not sufficient to explain Shakespeare's attitude to

the lower classes, but if we widen our survey to the entire field of

English letters in his day, we shall see that he was running counter to

all the best traditions of our literature. From the time of Piers

Plowman down, the peasant had stood high with the great writers of

poetry and prose alike. Chaucer's famous circle of story-tellers at the

Tabard Inn in Southwark was eminently democratic. With the knight and

the friar were gathered together

"An haberdasher and a carpenter,

A webbe, a deyer and tapiser,"

and the tales of the cook and the miller take rank with those of the

squire and lawyer. The English Bible, too, was in Shakespeare's hands,

and he must have been familiar with shepherd kings and

fishermen-apostles. In the very year in which "Hamlet" first appeared, a

work was published in Spain which was at once translated into English, a

work as well known to-day as Shakespeare's own writings. If the

peasantry was anywhere to be neglected and despised, where should it be

rather than in proud, aristocratic Spain, and yet, to place beside

Shakespeare's Bottoms and Slys, Cervantes has given us the admirable

Sancho Panza, and has spread his loving humor in equal measure over

servant and master. Are we to believe that the yeomen of England, who

beat back the Armada, were inferior to the Spanish peasantry whom they

overcame, or is it not rather true that the Spanish author had a deeper

insight into his country's heart than was allotted to the English

dramatist? Cervantes, the soldier and adventurer, rose above the

prejudices of his class, while Shakespeare never lifted his eyes beyond

the narrow horizon of the Court to which he catered. It was love that

opened Cervantes's eye, and it is in all-embracing love that Shakespeare

was deficient. As far as the common people were concerned, he never held

the mirror up to nature.

But the book of all others which might have suggested to Shakespeare

that there was more in the claims of the lower classes than was dreamt

of in his philosophy was More's "Utopia," which in its English form was

already a classic. More, the richest and most powerful man in England

after the king, not only believed in the workingman, but knew that he

suffered from unjust social conditions. He could never have represented

the down-trodden followers of Cade-Tyler nor the hungry mob in

"Coriolanus" with the utter lack of sympathy which Shakespeare

manifests. "What justice is there in this," asks the great Lord

Chancellor, whose character stood the test of death--"what justice is

there in this, that a nobleman, a goldsmith, a banker, or any other man,

that either does nothing at all or at best is employed in things that

are of no use to the public, should live in great luxury and splendor

upon what is so ill acquired; and a mean man, a carter, a smith, a

plowman, that works harder even than the beasts themselves, and is

employed on labors so necessary that no commonwealth could hold out a

year without them, can only earn so poor a livelihood, and must lead so

miserable a life, that the condition of the beasts is much better than

theirs?"

How different from this is Shakespeare's conception of the place of the

workingman in society! After a full and candid survey of his plays,

Bottom, the weaver with the ass's head, remains his type of the artizan

and the "mutable, rank-scented many," his type of the masses. Is it

unfair to take the misshapen "servant-monster" Caliban as his last word

on the subject?

"Prospero. We'll visit Caliban my slave who never

Yields us kind answer.

Miranda. 'Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

Prospero. But as 'tis,

We can not miss him! he does make our fire,

Fetch in our wood, and serve in offices

That profit us." (Tempest, Act 1, Sc. 2.)

To which I would fain reply in the words of Edward Carpenter:

"Who art thou ...

With thy faint sneer for him who wins thee bread

And him who clothes thee, and for him who toils

Day-long and night-long dark in the earth for thee?"

LETTER FROM MR. G. BERNARD SHAW

(Extracts)

As you know, I have striven hard to open English eyes to the emptiness

of Shakespeare's philosophy, to the superficiality and second-handedness

of his morality, to his weakness and incoherence as a thinker, to his

snobbery, his vulgar prejudices, his ignorance, his disqualifications of

all sorts for the philosophic eminence claimed for him.... The preface

to my "Three Plays for Puritans" contains a section headed "Better than

Shakespeare?" which is, I think, the only utterance of mine on the

subject to be found in a book.... There is at present in the press a new

preface to an old novel of mine called "The Irrational Knot." In that

preface I define the first order in Literature as consisting of those

works in which the author, instead of accepting the current morality and

religion ready-made without any question as to their validity, writes

from an original moral standpoint of his own, thereby making his book an

original contribution to morals, religion, and sociology, as well as to

_belles letters_. I place Shakespeare with Dickens, Scott, Dumas pere,

etc., in the second order, because, tho they are enormously

entertaining, their morality is ready-made; and I point out that the one

play, "Hamlet," in which Shakespeare made an attempt to give as a hero

one who was dissatisfied with the ready-made morality, is the one which

has given the highest impression of his genius, altho Hamlet's revolt is

unskillfully and inconclusively suggested and not worked out with any

philosophic competence.[4]

May I suggest that you should be careful not to imply that Tolstoy's

great Shakespearian heresy has no other support than mine. The preface

of Nicholas Rowe to his edition of Shakespeare, and the various prefaces

of Dr. Johnson contain, on Rowe's part, an apology for him as a writer

with obvious and admitted shortcomings (very ridiculously ascribed by

Rowe to his working by "a mere light of nature"), and, on Johnson's, a

good deal of downright hard-hitting criticism. You should also look up

the history of the Ireland forgeries, unless, as is very probable,

Tolstoy has anticipated you in this. Among nineteenth-century poets

Byron and William Morris saw clearly that Shakespeare was enormously

overrated intellectually. A French book, which has been translated into

English, has appeared within the last ten years, giving Napoleon's

opinions of the drama. His insistence on the superiority of Corneille to

Shakespeare on the ground of Corneille's power of grasping a political

situation, and of seeing men in their relation to the state, is

interesting.

Of course you know about Voltaire's criticisms, which are the more

noteworthy because Voltaire began with an extravagant admiration for

Shakespeare, and got more and more bitter against him as he grew older

and less disposed to accept artistic merit as a cover for philosophic

deficiencies.

Finally, I, for one, shall value Tolstoy's criticism all the more

because it is criticism of a foreigner who can not possibly be enchanted

by the mere word-music which makes Shakespeare so irresistible in

England.[5] In Tolstoy's estimation, Shakespeare must fall or stand as a

thinker, in which capacity I do not think he will stand a moment's

examination from so tremendously keen a critic and religious realist.

Unfortunately, the English worship their great artists quite

indiscriminately and abjectly; so that is quite impossible to make them

understand that Shakespeare's extraordinary literary power, his fun, his

mimicry, and the endearing qualities that earned him the title of "the

gentle Shakespeare"--all of which, whatever Tolstoy may say, are quite

unquestionable facts--do not stand or fall with his absurd reputation as

a thinker. Tolstoy will certainly treat that side of his reputation with

the severity it deserves; and you will find that the English press will

instantly announce that Tolstoy considers his own works greater than

Shakespeare's (which in some respects they most certainly are, by the

way), and that he has attempted to stigmatize our greatest poet as a

liar, a thief, a forger, a murderer, an incendiary, a drunkard, a

libertine, a fool, a madman, a coward, a vagabond, and even a man of

questionable gentility. You must not be surprised or indignant at this:

it is what is called "dramatic criticism" in England and America. Only a

few of the best of our journalist-critics will say anything worth

reading on the subject.

Yours faithfully,

G. BERNARD SHAW.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] Besides the prefaces here referred to, Mr. G. Bernard Shaw has at

various times written other articles on the subject.--(V. T.)

[5] It should be borne in mind that this letter was written before Mr.

G. B. Shaw had seen the essay in question, by Tolstoy, now published in

this volume.--(V. T.)

"No one will peruse a page without laying down the book a

better and a wiser man."--_Dundee Courier._

Tolstoy's Essays and Letters

By LEO TOLSTOY

Translated by AYLMER MAUDE

This work contains twenty-six essays and letters (many

published for the first time) belonging to the last fifteen

years of Tolstoy's career, the period in which he has

devoted himself exclusively to humanitarian labors.

Therefore each has a definite altruistic purpose. In the

letters in particular we have, in the words of the

translator, "Tolstoy's opinions in application to certain

definite conditions. They thus help to bridge the gulf

between theory and practise."

HIGHLY COMMENDED

"The subjects are varied, and present Tolstoy's

well-known views in his always forceful

manner."--_The Outlook._

"It contains the Russian philosopher and

philanthropist's best thought, and furnishes

considerable insight into his wonderful

personality."--_The Mirror, St. Louis._

"For those who wish to be well instructed in

Tolstoyana this handy little book will be

invaluable."--_Brooklyn Eagle._

"These essays form an admirable introduction to

Tolstoy's philosophy."--_Western Daily Mercury_,

Plymouth, Eng.

12mo, Cloth, 372 pp. Price, $1.00, post-paid

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers

NEW YORK and LONDON

* * * * *

Tolstoy's Plays

Also Annotated List of Works

This volume, a new translation by Louise and Aylmer Maude,

contains Tolstoy's three great plays, together with the

Russian folk-tale of which one of them is the dramatized

version. It also includes a complete annotated and

chronological list of Tolstoy's works of special

helpfulness to all readers and students of the great

Russian writer.

LIST OF THE PLAYS

=The Power of Darkness=; or, If a Claw is Caught the Bird

is Lost--A drama in five acts.

=The First Distiller=--A comedy in six acts.

=Fruits of Culture=--A comedy in four acts.

INCLUDING ALSO

=The Imp and the Crust=--This is a Russian folk-tale, of

which "The First Distiller" is the dramatized version.

=Their High Literary and Dramatic Value=

To their literary merit Tolstoy's plays add the quality of

being excellent acting dramas, as their success both in

Russia and elsewhere has abundantly shown. Mr. Laurence

Irving lately wrote: "I suppose England is the only country

in Europe where 'The Power of Darkness' has not been acted.

It ought to be done. It is a stupendous tragedy; the effect

on the stage is unparalleled."

=Their Wide Range of Sentiment=

"Between Tolstoy's two great plays," says the translator,

"'The Power of Darkness' and 'The Fruits of Culture,' the

contrast is very striking. The first is intensely moral,

terrible in its earnestness and force.... Very different is

'Fruits of Culture,' a play brimful of laughter and

merriment."

Handsomely printed on deckle-edge paper, gilt-top,

half-tone frontispiece, showing Anisya and Nikita in "The

Power of Darkness," cover design in gold, extra-quality

ribbed olive cloth, 250 + xii pages. Price $1.50,

post-paid.

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY

New York PUBLISHERS London

* * * * *

A CLEAR AND HOPEFUL EXPOSITION OF TOLSTOY'S TEACHINGS

"Students of the master will find this little book

indispensable."--_San Francisco News-Letter._

Tolstoy and His Problems

Essays by AYLMER MAUDE

Each essay in this volume expresses, in one form or other,

Tolstoy's views of life; and the main object of the book is

not to praise his views, but to explain them. Being the

only Englishman who in recent years has had the advantage

of intimate personal intercourse, continued over a period

of some years, with Tolstoy, Mr. Maude is well qualified

for his present work.

CONTENTS

Biography of Tolstoy | Introduction to "The Slavery

Tolstoy's Teachings | of Our Times"

An Introduction to "What | The Tsar's Coronation

Is Art?" | Right and Wrong

How "Resurrection" Was | War and Patriotism

Written | Talks With Tolstoy

"Any one who takes up this delightful series of

essays will not willingly lay it down without at

least the determination to finish it."--_British

Friend._

"Mr. Maude's long and intimate acquaintance with

Tolstoy enables him to speak with knowledge

probably not possessed by any other

Englishman."--_Morning Post._

12mo, Cloth, 220 pages. Price, $1.00

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers

NEW YORK and LONDON

* * * * *

Sevastopol

AND OTHER MILITARY TALES

By LEO TOLSTOY

A new translation by Louise and Aylmer Maude, specially

approved by the author. This book relates the author's own

experiences, sensations, and reflections during the most

noted siege of modern history. The translation has been

authorized by Count Tolstoy, who has specially commended it

for its accuracy, simplicity, and directness.

"No other modern book approaches 'Sevastopol' in

the completeness and directness with which it

unveils the realities of war. There are

picturesque glimpses in Mr. Kipling's vulgar

stories of fighting. But the strongest meat Mr.

Kipling can provide is milk for babes beside Count

Tolstoy's seemingly casual sketches, which yet

comprehend with merciless amplitude the whole

atmosphere of war."--_The Morning Leader_, London.

What Count Tolstoy Says of the Translators and

Translation

"Better translators, both for knowledge of the two

languages and for penetration into the very meaning of the

matter translated, could not be invented." Of their

translation of Sevastopol, Tolstoy also says: "I think I

already wrote you how unusually the first volume of your

edition pleases me. All in it is excellent: the edition and

the remarks, and chiefly the translation, and yet more the

conscientiousness with which all this has been done."

Handsomely printed on deckle-edge paper, gilt top,

photogravure portrait of Tolstoy from a daguerreotype taken

in 1855, map of Sevastopol; cover design in gold,

extra-quality ribbed olive cloth, 325 + xlviii. pp. $1.50.

(_This book is not for sale by us in Great Britain._)

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers

NEW YORK and LONDON

* * * * *

_Three New Stories by Count Leo Tolstoy, Written for the

Benefit of the Kishinef Sufferers. Publisher's and Author's

Profits are to go to the Kishinef Relief Fund_

ESARHADDON

King of Assyria, and Other Stories

_By_ COUNT LEO TOLSTOY

_Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude, with an

Introduction Containing Letters by Tolstoy_

=Esarhaddon, King of Assyria.= An allegorical story with an

Oriental setting, telling how a cruel king was made to feel

and understand the sufferings of one of his captives, and

to repent his own cruelty.

=Work, Death, and Sickness.= A legend accredited to the

South American Indians, showing the three means God took to

make men more kind and brotherly toward each other.

=Three Questions.= A quaint folk-lore tale answering the

three questions of life: "What is the Best Time?" "Who Are

the Most Important Persons?" "What Thing Should be Done

First?"

OPINION OF THE PRESS

_St. Louis Globe-Democrat_: "Count Tolstoy is a

man so sure of his message and so clear about it

that he always finds something worth while to

say.... There is a quality in the little tales

published under the title 'Esarhaddon' which is

quickly suggestive of certain Biblical narratives.

There is one called 'Three Questions,' which

contains, in half a dozen pages, an entire

philosophy of life, and it is presented in such

apt pictures and ideas that its meaning is not to

be overlooked. It would be hard to suggest

anything that could be read in five minutes that

would impart so much to think about. 'Esarhaddon,'

the sketch from which the volume takes its name,

is of the same character, and the third tale,

'Work, Death, and Sickness,' is full of very fine

thought. There is, perhaps, no writer working

to-day whose mind is centered on broader and

better things than the Russian master, and the

present offering shows him at his very best."

"Hour-Glass Stories." Dainty 12mo, Cloth, Frontispiece,

Ornamental Cover, 40 cents, Postpaid

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers

NEW YORK and LONDON

* * * * *

What Is Art?

Translated from the Original Manuscript, with an

Introduction by AYLMER MAUDE

Art is a human activity, declares Tolstoy. The object of

this activity is to transmit to others feelings the artist

has experienced. By certain external signs--movements,

lines, colors, sounds or arrangements of words--an artist

infects other people so that they share his feelings; thus,

"art is a means of union among men, joining them together

in the same feeling." Without adequate expression there is

no art, for there is no infection, no transference to

others of the author's feeling. The test of art is

infection. If an author has moved you so that you feel as

he felt, if you are so united to him in feeling that it

seems to you that he has expressed just what you have long

wished to express, the work that has so infected you is a

work of art.

A POWERFUL WORK FULL OF GENIUS AND ORIGINALITY

"The powerful personality of the author, the

startling originality of his views, grip the

reader and carry him, though his deepest

convictions be outraged, protesting through the

book."--_Pall Mall Gazette._

"The discussion is bound to shake the whole world

to its very center, and to result in a

considerable readjustment of

theories."--_Pittsburg Times._

"It is the ablest and most scholarly writing of a

great thinker."--_Chicago Inter Ocean._

"No recent book on the subject is so novel, so

readable, or so questionable."--_New York Times

Saturday Review._

Small 12mo, Cloth, 268 pp. 80 cts., post-paid

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers

NEW YORK and LONDON

* * * * *

+--------------------------------------------------------------+

| Transcriber's Notes: |

| |

| Page 7: Double quotes inside double quotes in Hallam |

| quotation replaced with single quotes. |

| Page 9: Closing quotes moved from after "says Brandes" to |

| follow "... at the sight." |

| Page 20: strangset amended to strangest |

| Page 56: insteading amended to instead |

| Page 72: be amended to he ("he begins") |

| Page 80: "... the then fashionable euphemism": There is a |

| possibility that "euphuism" should have been used, rather |

| than "euphemism." |

| Page 96: Closing quotes added after "... an artistic |

| impression." |

| Page 102: Beaudelaire _sic_ |

| Page 165: Mirander amended to Miranda |

+--------------------------------------------------------------+