E-text prepared by Bill Boerst, Juliet Sutherland, and Tonya Allen
Editorial note: "Shakspere" is the spelling used by the author and
therefore was not changed
SHAKSPERE AND MONTAIGNE
An Endeavour to Explain the Tendency of 'Hamlet'
from Allusions in Contemporary Works
BY JACOB FEIS
CONTENTS.
I.
INTRODUCTION
II.
THE BEGINNINGS OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA
THE STAGE A MEDIUM FOR POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSIES
SHAKSPERE'S POLITICAL CREED
FLORIO'S TRANSLATION OF MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS
III.
MONTAIGNE
IV.
HAMLET
V.
THE CONTROVERSY BETWEEN BEN JONSON AND DEKKER
MENTION OF A DISPUTE BETWEEN BEN JONSON AND SHAKSPERE
IN 'THE RETURN FROM PARNASSUS'
CHARACTERISTIC OF BEN JONSON
BEN JONSON'S HOSTILE ATTITUDE TOWARDS SHAKSPERE
DRAMATIC SKIRMISH BETWEEN BEN JONSON AND SHAKSPERE
BEN JONSON'S 'POETASTER'
DEKKER'S 'SATIROMASTIX'
VI.
'VOLPONE,' BY BEN JONSON
'EASTWARD HOE,' BY CHAPMAN, BEN JONSON, AND MARSTON
'THE MALCONTENT,' BY JOHN MARSTON
I.
INTRODUCTION.
It has always been a daring venture to attempt finding out Shakspere's
individuality, and the range of his philosophical and political ideas,
from his poetical productions. We come nearest to his feelings in his
'Sonnets;' but only a few heavy sighs, as it were, from a time of
languish in his life can be heard therefrom. All the rest of those
lyrical effusions, in spite of the zealous exertions of commentators
full of delicate sentiment and of deep thought, remain an unsolved
secret.
In his historical dramas, a political creed has been pointed out, which,
with some degree of certainty, may be held to have been his. From his
other dramas, the most varied evidence has been drawn. A perfect maze of
contradictions has been read out of them; so much so that, on this
ground, we might almost despair of trustworthy results from further
inquiry.
The wildest and most incongruous theories have been founded upon 'Hamlet'
--the drama richest in philosophical contents. Over and over again men
have hoped to be able to ascertain, from this tragedy, the great
master's ideas about religion. It is well-nigh impossible to say how
often such attempts have been made, but the reward of the exertions
has always remained unsatisfactory. On the feelings which this masterwork
of dramatic art still excites to-day--nearly three hundred years after
its conception--thousands have based the most different conclusions;
every one being convinced of the correctness of his own impressions.
There is a special literature, composed of such rendering of personal
impressions which that most enigmatical of all dramas has made upon
men of various disposition. Every hypothesis finds its adherents among
a small group, whilst those who feel differently smile at the
infatuation of their antagonists. Nothing that could give true and final
satisfaction has yet been reached in this direction.
It is our intention to regard 'Hamlet' from a new point of view, which
seems to promise more success than the critical endeavours hitherto
made. We propose to enter upon a close investigation of a series of
circumstances, events, and personal relations of the poet, as well
as of certain indications contained in other dramatic works--all of
the period in which 'Hamlet' was written and brought into publicity.
This valuable material, properly arranged and put in its true connection,
will, we believe, furnish us with such firm and solid stepping-stones
as to allow us, on a perfectly trustworthy path, to approach the real
intentions of this philosophical tragedy. It has long ago been felt
that, in it, Shakspere has laid down his religious views. By the means
alluded to we will now explain that _credo_.
We believe we can successfully show that the tendency of 'Hamlet' is of
a controversial nature. In closely examining the innovations by which
the augmented second quarto edition [1](1604) distinguishes itself
from the first quarto, published the year before (1603), we find that
almost every one of these innovations is directed against the principles
of a new philosophical work--_The Essays of Michel Montaigne_--which
had appeared at that time in England, and which was brought out under
the high auspices of the foremost noblemen and protectors of literature
in this country.
From many hints in contemporary dramas, and from some clear passages in
'Hamlet' itself, it follows at the same time that the polemics carried
on by Shakspere in 'Hamlet' are in most intimate connection with a
controversy in which the public took a great interest, and which, in
the first years of the seventeenth century, was fought out with much
bitterness on the stage. The remarkable controversy is known, in
the literature of that age, under the designation of the dispute
between Ben Jonson and Dekker. A thorough examination of the dramas
referring to it shows that Shakspere was even more implicated in
this theatrical warfare than Dekker himself.
The latter wrote a satire entitled 'Satiromastix,' in which he replies
to Ben Jonson's coarse personal invectives with yet coarser abuse.
'Hamlet' was Shakspere's answer to the nagging hostilities of the
quarrelsome adversary, Ben Jonson, who belonged to the party which
had brought the philosophical work in question into publicity. And
the evident tendency of the innovations in the second quarto of
'Hamlet,' we make bold to say, convinces us that it must have been
far more Shakspere's object to oppose, in that masterly production
of his, the pernicious influence which the philosophy of the work
alluded to threatened to exercise on the better minds of his nation,
than to defend himself against the personal attacks of Ben Jonson.
The controversy itself is mentioned in 'Hamlet.' It is a disclosure
of the poet, which sheds a little ray of light into the darkness in
which his earthly walk is enveloped. The master, who otherwise is
so sparing with allusions as to his sphere of action, speaks [2]
bitter words against an 'aery of children' who were then 'in fashion,'
and were 'most tyrannically clapped for it.' We are further told that
these little eyases cry out on the top of the question and so berattle
the common stages (so they call them), that many, wearing rapiers,
are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.' The
'goose-quills' are, of course, the writers of the dramas played by
the 'little eyases.' We then learn 'that there was for a while no
money bid for argument' (Shakspere, we see, was not ashamed of honest
gain) 'unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.'
Lastly, the reproach is made to the nation that it 'holds it no sin to
tarre them (the children) to controversy.' This satire is undoubtedly--all
commentators agree upon this point--directed against the performances of
the children who at that time flourished. The most popular of these
juvenile actors were the Children of Paul's, the Children of the Revels,
the Children of the Chapel Royal.
Shakspere's remarks, directed against these forward youngsters, may
appear to us to-day as of very secondary importance in the great drama.
To the poet, no doubt, it was not so. The words by which he alludes
to this episode in his life come from his very heart, and were written
for the purpose of reproving the conduct of the public in regard to
himself.
'Hamlet' was composed in the atmosphere of this literary feud, from
which we draw confirmatory proof that our theory stands on the solid
ground of historical fact.
Even should our endeavour to finally solve the great problem of
'Hamlet' be made in vain, we believe we shall at least have pointed
out a way on which others might be more successful. In contradistinction
to the manner hitherto in use of drawing conclusions from impressions
only, our own matter-of-fact attempt will have this advantage, that the
time spent in it will not be wholly wasted; for, in looking round on
the scene of that eventful century, we shall become more intimate with
its literature and the characters of Shakspere's contemporaries.
Before entering upon the theme itself, it is necessary to cast a rapid
glance at the condition of the dramatic art of that period.
1: 'Enlarged to almost as much-againe as it was.'
2: Act ii. sc. 2.
II.
THE BEGINNINGS OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA.
THE STAGE A MEDIUM FOR POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSIES.
SHAKSPERE'S POLITICAL CREED.
FLORIO'S TRANSLATION OF MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS.
Long before Shakspere, perhaps with fardel on his back, travelled to
London, the stage, not only in the capital, but in the whole country,
had begun to exercise its attractive power upon the people's imagination.
In the year 1586, a Protestant zealot, a soldier, [1] writes:--'When the
belles tole to the Lectorer, the trumpetts sound to the Stages, whareat
the wicked faction of Rome lawgeth for joy, while the godly weepe for
sorrowe. Woe is me! the play houses are pestered when the churches are
naked. At the one it is not possible to gett a place; at the other voyde
seates are plentie.... Yt is a wofull sight to see two hundred proude
players jett in their silks where five hundred pore people sterve
in the streets.'
Already in the reign of Henry VIII. a 'Master of the Revels' was required,
whose task it was to control the public representations and amusements.
Queen Elizabeth had to issue several special ordinances to define more
closely the functions, and provide with fresh power this office, which had
been created by her father.
Like all other great achievements of the English nation, the drama, too,
developed itself in this country unhampered by foreign influence. Its
rapid growth was owing to the free and energetic spirit of Englishmen,
to their love for public life. Every event which in some way attracted
public attention, furnished the material for a new ballad, or a new drama.
Among the dramatists of that time, there was a specially active group
of malcontents--men of culture, who had been at the colleges and
universities; such as Peel, Greene, Marlowe, Chapman, Marston, Ben
Jonson, and others. If we ask ourselves how it came about that these
disciples of erudition turned over to a calling so despised in their
days (for the dramatist, with few exceptions, was then mostly held
in as low a repute as the player), the cause will be found in the
peculiar circumstances of that epoch.
The revival of classical studies, and the art of printing, were, in
the hands of the peace-loving citizen, fresh means for strengthening
his position in the State. The handicraftsman or the merchant, who
had gained a small fortune, was no longer satisfied with the modest
prospects which he could offer to his talented son in an ordinary
workshop, or in his narrow store-rooms. Since Rome no longer
exercised her once all-powerful influence in every walk of life,
university men, owing to their superior education, saw before them
a brighter, a more hopeful, future.
In the sixteenth century the number of students in colleges and
at theuniversities increased in an astonishing degree, especially
from the middle classes. The sons of simple burghers entered upon
the contests of free, intellectual aspirations with a zeal mostly
absent in those whose position is already secured by birth. At Court,
no doubt, the feudal aristocracy were yet powerful indeed. They could
approach their sovereign according to their pleasure; influence him;
and procure, by artful intrigue, positions of dignity and useful
preferments for themselves and their favourites. Against these abuses
the written word, multiplied a thousandfold, was a new weapon. Whoever
could handle it properly, gained the esteem of his fellow-men; and a
means was at his disposal for earning a livelihood, however scanty.
Towards the middle and the end of the sixteenth century there were many
students and scholars possessing a great deal of erudition, but very
little means of subsistence. Nor were their prospects very encouraging.
They first went through that bitter experience, which, since then,
so many have made after them--that whoever seeks a home in the realm
of intellect runs the risk of losing the solid ground on which the
fruits for maintaining human life grow. The eye directed towards the
Parnassus is not the most apt to spy out the small tortuous paths of
daily gain. To get quick returns of interest, even though it be small,
from the capital of knowledge and learning, has always been, and still
is, a question of difficult solution.
These young scholars, grown to manhood in the Halls of Wisdom, were
unable, and even unwilling, to return to simple industrial pursuits,
or to the crafty tactics of commerce. Alienated from practical
activity, and too shy to take part in the harder struggles of life,
many of them rather contented themselves with a crust of bread, in
order to continue enjoying the 'dainties of a book.' The manlier and
bolder among them, dissatisfied with the prospect of such poor fare,
looked round and saw, in the hands of incapables, fat livings and
lucrative emoluments to which they, on account of their superior
culture, believed they had a better claim.
There were yet many State institutions which by no means corresponded
to the ideal gathered from Platon, Cicero, and other writers of
antiquity. Men began expressing these feelings of dissatisfaction
in ballads and pamphlets. Even as the many home and foreign products
of industry were distributed by commerce, so it was also the case with
these new products of the intellectual workshop, which were carried to
the most distant parts of the land. At the side of his other wares, the
pedlar, eager for profit, offered the new and much-desired achievements
of the Muse to the dwellers in the smallest village, in the loneliest
farm.
Moreover, the cunning stationers had their own men, to whom they lent
'a dossen groates worth of ballads.' If these hucksters--as Henry
Chettle relates--proved thrifty, they were advanced to the position
of 'prety (petty) chapman,' 'able to spred more pamphlets by the
State forbidden, then all the bookesellers in London; for only in
this Citie is straight search, abroad smale suspition, especially
of such petty pedlars.' [2]
Chettle speaks strongly against these 'intruders in the printings
misserie, by whome that excelent Art is not smally slandered, the
government of the State not a little blemished, nor Religion in the
least measure hindred.'
Besides the profit to be derived from the Press by the malcontent
travelling scholars, there was yet another way of acquiring the means
of sustenance and of making use of mental culture; and in it there
existed the further advantage of independence from grumbling
publishers. This was the Stage. For it no great preparations were
necessary, nor was any capital required. A few chairs, some boards;
in every barn there was room. Wherever one man was found who could
read, there were ten eager to listen.
A most characteristic drama, 'The Return from Parnassus,' depicts
some poor scholars who turn away from pitiless Cambridge, of which
one of them says--
For had not Cambridge been to me unkind,
I had not turn'd to gall a milky mind. [3]
After having long since completed their studies, they go to London
to seek for the most modest livelihood. Bitter experience had taught
these disciples of learning that the employment for which they waited
could only be gained by bribery; and bribe they certainly could not,
owing to their want of means. Some of them already show a true
Werther-like yearning for solitude:--
We will be gone unto the downs of Kent....
STUDIOSO.
So shall we shun the company of men,
That grows more hateful as the world grows old.
We'll teach the murm'ring brooks in tears to flow,
And sleepy rocks to wail our passed woe. [4]
Another utters sentiments of grief, coming near the words of despair
of Faust. There is a tone in them of what the Germans call
_Weltschmerz_:--
Curs'd be our thoughts, whene'er they dream of hope,
Bann'd be those haps that henceforth flatter us,
When mischief dogs us still and still for aye,
From our first birth until our burying day. [5]
In the difficult choice of a calling which is to save them from need
and misery, these beggar-students also think of the stage:--
And must the basest trade yield us relief?
So Philomusus, in a woebegone tone, asks his comrade Studioso; and
the latter looks with the following envious words upon the players
whose prospects must have been brighter and more enticing than those
of the learned poor scholars:--
England affords those glorious vagabonds,
That carried erst their fardles on their backs,
Coursers to ride on through the gazing streets,
Sweeping it in their glaring satin suits,
And pages to attend their masterships:
With mouthing words that better wits have framed,
They purchase lands, and now esquires are made. [6]
Shakspere, as well as Alleyn, bought land with the money earned by
their art. For many, the stage was the port of refuge to which they
fled from the lonely habitations of erudition, where they--
... sit now immur'd within their private cells,
Drinking a long lank watching candle's smoke,
Spending the marrow of their flow'ring age
In fruitless poring on some worm-eat leaf. [7]
Many of these beggar students sought a livelihood by joining the
players. That which the poor scholar had read and learnt in books
old and new; all that he had heard from bold, adventurous warriors
and seamen returning from foreign lands or recently discovered
islands; in short, everything calculated to awaken interest and
applause among the great mass, was with feverish haste put on the
stage, and, in order to render it more palatable, mixed with a
goodly dose of broad humour.
The same irreconcilable spirit of the Reformation, which would not
tolerate any saint's image in the places of worship, also destroyed
the liking for Miracle Plays. The tendency of the time was to turn
away from mysteries and abstract notions, and to draw in art and
poetry nearer to real life. Where formerly 'Miracles and Moralities'
were the delight of men, and Biblical utterances, put in the mouth
of prophets and saints, served to edify the audience, there the wordy
warfare and the fisticuffs exchanged between the Mendicant Friar and
the Seller of Indulgences [8] or Pardoner, whose profane doings
were satirised on the stage, became now the subject of popular
enjoyment and laughter. Every question of the day was boldly handled,
and put in strong language, easily understood by the many, before
a grateful public of simple taste.
The drama, thus created anew, soon became the most popular amusement
in the whole country. Every other sport was forgotten over it. In
every market town, in every barn, a crowd of actors met. In those
days no philosophical hair-splitting was in vogue on the boards.
Everything was drawn from real life; a breath of freedom pervaded
all this exuberant geniality. That which a man felt to-day, tomorrow
he was able to communicate to his public. The spoken word was freer
than the printed one. The latter had to pass a kind of censorship; the
author and the publisher could be ascertained, and be made responsible.
But who would be so severe against an extemporised satirical hit,
uttered perhaps by a clown? Who would, for that sake, be the denouncing
traitor?
Yet it must not be thought that poets and players could do exactly as
they listed. They, too, had their enemies. More especially, the austere
Puritans were their bitter foes; they never ceased bringing their
influence to bear upon highly-placed persons, in order to check the
daring and forward doings of the stage, whose liberty they on every
occasion wished to see curtailed, and its excesses visited by
punishment. The ordinary players, if they did not possess licences
from at least two justices of the peace, might be prosecuted, in
accordance with an old law, as 'rogues and vagabonds,' and subjected
to very hard sentences. It was not so easy to proceed against the
better class of actors, who, with a view of escaping from the
chicanery which their calling rendered them liable to, had placed
themselves under the protection of the first noblemen, calling
themselves their 'servants.' An ordinance of the Privy Council was
required in order to bring actors who were thus protected, before
a court of justice.
Nevertheless, these restless people got into incessant conflicts with
the authorities. Actors would not allow themselves to be deprived of
the right of saying a word on matters of the State and the Church;
and what did occupy men's minds more than the victory of the
Reformation?
Already, in the year 1550, Cardinal Wolsey felt bound to cast an author,
Roo, [9] and 'a fellow-player, a young gentleman,' into prison, because
they had put a piece on the stage, the aim of which was to show that
'Lord Governaunce (Government) was ruled by Dissipation and Negligence,
by whose misgovernment and evil order Lady Public-Weal was put from
Governaunce; which caused Rumor-populi, Inward Grudge, and Disdain of
Wanton Sovereigntie to rise with a great multitude to expel Negligence
and Dissipation, and to restore Publike-weal again to her estate--which
was so done.'
The reproaches made to the bishops about the year 1544 prove, that the
stage had already long ago boldly ventured upon the territory of
religion, in order to imbue the masses with anti-ecclesiastical
tendencies. In this connection the following words of an actor,
addressed to the clerics, are most significant. 'None,' he says,
'leave ye unvexed and untroubled; no, not so much as the poor
minstrels and players of interludes. So long as they played lies
and sang bawdy songs, blaspheming God, and corrupting men's
consciences, ye never blamed them, but were very well contented;
but since they persuaded the people to worship the Lord aright,
according to His holy laws and not yours, ye never were pleased
with them.' [10]
The first Act of Parliament for 'the controul and regulation of stages
and dramatic representations' was passed in the reign of Henry VIII.
(1543). Its title is, 'An Act for the Advancement of True Religion
and the Punishment of the Contrary.'
In 1552 Edward VI. issued a further proclamation both in regard to the
stage and the sellers of prints and books; this time mainly from
political reasons.
Whilst poets and players under Henry VIII. and his youthful successor
could bring out, without hindrance, that which promoted their ideas of
'true religion,' they ran great risk, in the reign of Queen Mary, with
any Protestant tendencies; for, scarcely had this severe queen been a
month on the throne than she issued an ordinance (August 16, 1553)
forbidding such dramas and interludes as were calculated to spread the
principles and doctrines of the Reformation.
Under this sovereign, spectacles furthering the Roman Catholic cause
were of course favoured. On the other hand, it may be assumed that,
during the long and popular reign of Queen Elizabeth, Protestant
tendencies on the stage often passed the censorship, although from
the first years of her government there is an Act prohibiting any
drama in which State and Church affairs were treated, 'being no
meete matters to be written or treated upon but by men of authoritie,
nor to be handled before any audience, but of grave and discreete
persons.'
However, like all previous ordinances, proclamations, and Acts of
Parliament, this one also remained without effect. The dramatists
and the disciples of the mimic art continued busying themselves, in
their customary bold manner, with that which awakened the greatest
interest among the public at large; and one would think that at a
certain time they had become a little power in the State, against which
it was no longer possible to proceed in arbitrary fashion, but which,
on the contrary, had to be reckoned with.
Only such measures, it appears, were afterwards passed which were
calculated to harmonise the religious views uttered on the stage with
the tenets of the Established Church. This follows from a letter of Lord
Burleigh, addressed, in 1589, to the Archbishop of Canterbury, in which
he requests him to appoint 'some fytt person well learned in divinitie.'
The latter, together with the Master of the Revels and a person chosen
by the Lord Mayor of the City of London, were to form a kind of
Commission, which had to examine all pieces that were to be publicly
acted, and to give their approval.
It would be an error to believe that this threefold censorship had any
greater success than the former measures. The contrary was the case;
matters rather became worse. Actors were imprisoned; whereupon they
drew up beautiful petitions to their august protectors who brought
about their deliverance--that is, until they were once more clapped
into prison. Then they were threatened with having their ears and noses
cut off; [11] but still they would not hold their tongues. We know
from a letter of the French ambassador (1606)--who himself had several
times to ask at the Court of James I. for the prohibition of pieces in
which the Queen of France and Mademoiselle Verneuil, as well as the Duke
of Biron, were severely handled--that the bold expounders of the
dramatic art dared to bring their own king on the stage. Upon this
there came an ordinance forbidding all further theatrical representations
in London.
In the words of the French ambassador:--'I caused certain players to be
forbid from acting the history of the Duke of Biron. When, however,
they saw that the whole Court had left the town, they persisted in acting
it; nay, they brought upon the stage the Queen of France and Mademoiselle
de Verneuil.... He (the King) has upon this made order that no play shall
henceforth be acted in London; for the repeal of which order they (the
players) have offered 100,000 livres. Perhaps the permission will
be again granted, but upon condition that they represent no recent
history, nor speak of the present time.' [12]
From this sum--a very large one at that time--the importance of the
theatre of those days may be gathered.
The Corporation of the City of London was among those most hostile to
all theatrical representations. It exerted itself to the utmost in
order to render them impossible in the centre of the capital; issuing,
with that object, the most whimsical decrees. Trying, on their part,
to escape from the despotic restrictions, the various players'
companies settled down beyond the boundary of the Lord Mayor's
jurisdiction. The citizens of London, wishing to have their share
of an amusement which had become a national one, eagerly flocked
to Bankside, to Blackfriars, to Shoreditch, or across green fields
to the more distant Newington Butts.
Comparatively speaking, very little has come down to us from the
hey-day of the English drama. That which we possess is but an
exceedingly small portion of the productions of that epoch. Henslowe's
'Diary' tells us that a single theatre (Newington Butts) in about
two years (June 3, 1594, to July 18, 1596) brought out not less than
forty new pieces; and London, at that time, had already more than a
dozen play-houses. The dramas handed down to us are mostly purged
of those passages which threatened to give offence in print.
The dramatists did not mean to write books. When they went to the
press at all, they often excused themselves that 'scenes invented
merely to be spoken, should be inforcibly published to be read.'
They were well aware that this could not afford to the reader the
same pleasure he felt 'when it was presented with the soule
of living action.' [13]
The stage was the forum of the people, on which everything was expressed
that created interest amidst a great nation rising to new life. The
path towards political freedom of speech was not yet opened in
Parliament; and of our important safety-valve of to-day, the public
press, there was yet only the first vestige, in the shape of pamphlets
secretly hawked about. The stage as rapidly decayed as it had grown,
when the chief interest on which it had thriven for a while--namely,
the representation of affairs of public interest--obtained more practical
expression in other spheres. In the meantime, however, it remained the
platform on which everything could be subjected to the criticism and
jurisdiction of public opinion.
In Chettle's 'Kind-Harte's Dreame' (1592) the proprietor of a house of
evil fame concludes his speech with reproaches against actors on
account of their spoiling his trade; 'for no sooner have we a tricke
of deceipt, but they make it common, singing jigs, and making jeasts
of us, that everie boy can point out our houses as they passe by.'
Again, in Ben Jonson's 'Poetaster,' we read that 'your courtier cannot
kiss his mistress's slippers in quiet for them; nor your white innocent
gallant pawn his revelling suit to make his punk a supper;' or that
'an honest, decayed commander cannot skelder, cheat, nor be seen in a
bawdy house, but he shall be straight in one of their wormwood comedies.'
[14]
Not less boldly than social affairs were political matters treated; but
in order to avoid a prosecution, these questions had to be cautiously
approached in parable fashion. Never was greater cleverness shown
in this respect than at Shakspere's time. Every poet, every statesman,
or otherwise highly-placed person, was 'heckled' under an allegorical
name--a circumstance which at present makes it rather difficult for us
to fully fathom the meaning of certain dramatic productions.
In order to attract the crowd, the stage-poets had to present their
dishes with the condiments of actual life; thus studying more the
taste of the guests than showing that of the cook. Prologues and
Epilogues always appealed more to the public at large as the highest
judge; its verdict alone was held to be the decisive one.
Manuscripts--the property of companies whose interest it was not
to make them generally known in print--were continually altered
according to circumstances. Guided by the impressions of the public,
authors struck out what had been badly received; whilst passages
that had earned applause, remained as the encouraging and deciding
factor for the future.
At one time dramas were written almost with the same rapidity as leading
articles are to-day. Even as our journalists do in the press, so the
dramatists of that period carried on their debates about certain
questions of the day on the stage. In language the most passionate,
authors fell upon each other--a practice for which we have to thank them,
in so far as we thereby gain matter-of-fact points for a correct
understanding of 'Hamlet.'
In the last but one decennium of the sixteenth century, the first
dramatists arose who pursued fixed literary tendencies. Often their
compositions are mere exercises of style after Greek or Roman models
which never became popular on the Thames. The taste of the English
people does not bear with strange exotic manners for any length of
time. It is lost labour to plant palm-trees where oaks only can thrive.
Lily and others endeavoured to gain the applause of the mass by words
of finely-distilled fragrance, to which no coarse grain, no breath
or the native atmosphere clung. A fruitless beginning, as little
destined to succeed as the exertions of those who tried to shine by
pedantic learning and hollow glittering words.
Marlowe's powerful imagination attempts marshalling the whole world, in
his booth of theatrical boards, after the rhythm of drumming
decasyllabon and bragging blank-verse. In his dramas, great conquerors
pass the frontiers of kingdoms with the same ease with which one steps
over the border of a carpet. The people's fancy willingly follows
the bold poet. In the short space of three hours he makes his
'Faust' [15] live through four-and-twenty years, in order 'to conquer,
with sweet pleasure, despair.' The earth becomes too small for this
dramatist. Heaven and Hell, God and the Devil, have to respond to
his inquiries. Like some of his colleagues, Marlowe is a sceptic:
he calls Moses a 'conjurer and seducer of the people,' and boasts
that, if he were to try, he would succeed in establishing a
better religion than the one he sees around himself. The apostle of
these high thoughts, not yet thirty years old, breathed his last,
in consequence of a duel in a house of evil repute.
Another hopeful disciple of lyric and dramatic poetry and prose-writer,
Robert Greene, once full of similar free-thinking ideas, lay on his
deathbed at the age of thirty-two, after a life of dissipation.
Thence he writes to his forsaken wife:--
'All my wrongs muster themselves about me; every evill at once plagues
me. For my contempt of God, I am contemned of men; for my swearing and
forswearing, no man will believe me; for my gluttony, I suffer hunger;
for my drunkenesse, thirst; for my adulterie, ulcerous sores. Thus God
has cast me downe, that I might be humbled; and punished me, for
examples of others' sinne.'
Greene offers his own wretched end to his colleagues as a warning
example; admonishing them to employ their 'rare wits in more profitable
courses;' to look repentingly on the past; to leave off profane
practices, and not 'to spend their wits in making plaies.' He
especially warns them against actors--because these, it seems, had
given him up. His rancorous spite against them he expresses in the
well-known words:--'Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart
Crow, beautified with our feathers, that _with his Tygers heart
wrapt in a Players hide_, supposes he is as well able to bumbast
out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute _Johannes
Fac-totum_, is in his owne conceit the onely 'SHAKE-SCENE in a
countrie.'
This satirical point, directed, without doubt, against Shakspere, is
the only thing reliable which, down to the year 1592, we know of his
dramatic activity. He had then been only about four years in London.
Yet he must already have wielded considerable authority, seeing that
he is publicly, though with sneering arrogance, called a complete
Johannes Fac-totum--a man who has laid himself out in every direction.
It is the divine mission of a genius to bring order out of chaos, to
regulate matters with the directing force of his superior glance.
Certainly, Shakspere, from the very beginning of his activity, sought,
with all the energy of his power, to rule out all ignoble, anarchical
elements from the stage, and thus to obtain for it the sympathies of
the best of his time. Fate so willed it, that one of the greatest
minds which Heaven ever gave to mankind, entered, on this occasion,
the modest door of a playhouse, as if Providence had intended showing
that a generous activity can effect noble results everywhere, and
that the most despised calling (such, still, was that of the actors
then) can produce most excellent fruits.
Shakspere's life is a beneficial harmony between will and deed; no
attempt to draw down Heaven to Earth, or to raise up Earth to Heaven.
His are rather the ways and manners peculiar to a people which likes
to adapt itself to given circumstances, to make use of the existing
practical good, in order to produce from it that which is better.
It is an ascertained fact that Shakspere, who had received some training
at school--but no University education--began, at the age of twenty-four,
to arrange the pieces of other writers, to make modest additions to
them; in short, to render them fit and proper for stage purposes. This
may have been one of the causes why Greene dubbed him a 'Johannes
Fac-totum.' Others, too, have accused him, during his lifetime, of
'application' (plagiarism), because he took his subjects mostly from
other authors. Among those who so charged him, were, as we shall show,
more especially Ben Jonson and Marston.
Shakspere never allowed himself to be induced by these reproaches to
change his mode of working. Down to his death it remained the same.
Is his merit, on that account, a lesser one? Certainly not: in the
Poetical Art, in the Realm of Feeling and Thought, there are no
regular boundary-stones. No author has the right to say: 'Thou must
not step into the circle drawn by me; thou hast to do thy work wholly
outside of it!'
An author who so expresses an idea, or so describes a situation as to
fix it most powerfully in men's imagination, is to be looked upon as
the true owner or creator of the image: to him belongs the crown.
The Greeks reckoned it to be the highest merit of the masters of
their plastic art when they retained the great traits with which their
predecessors had invested a conception; only endeavouring to better
those parts in which a lesser success had been achieved--until that
section of the work, too, had attained the highest degree of
perfection. Thus arose the Jupiter of Pheidias, a Venus of Milo, an
Apollo of Belvedere. Thus the noblest ideal of beauty as created,
and in this wise the Greek national epic became the model of all
kindred poetry.
There is a most characteristic fact which shows how greatly the drama
had risen in universal esteem after Shakspere had devoted to it twelve
years of his life. It is this. The Corporation of the City of London,
once so hostile to all theatrical representations, and which had used
every possible chicanery against the stage, had become so friendly to it
towards the year 1600, that, when it was asked from governmental
quarters to enforce a certain decree which had been launched against
the theatre, it refused to comply with the request. On the contrary,
the Lord Mayor, as well as the other magistrates, held it to be an
injustice towards the actors that the Privy Council gave a hearing
to the charges brought forward by the Puritans. Truly, the feelings
of this conservative Corporation, as well of a large number of those
who once looked down upon the stage with the greatest contempt,
must, in the meanwhile, have undergone a great change.
Unquestionably the Company of the Lord Chamberlain--which in summer
gave its masterly representations in the Globe Theatre, beyond the
Thames, and in winter in Black-Friars--had been the chief agency
in working that change. The first noblemen, the Queen herself, greatly
enjoyed the pieces which Shakspere, in fact, wrote for that society;
but the public at large were not less delighted with them.
When, the day after such a representation, conversation arose in the
family circle as to the three happy hours passed in the theatre, an
opportunity was given for discussing the most important events of the
past and the present. The people's history had not yet been written
then. Solitary events only had been loosely marked down in dry folios.
The stage now brought telling historical facts in vivid colours before
the eye. The powerful speeches of high and mighty lords, of learned
bishops, and of kings were heard--of exalted persons, all different
in character, but all moved, like other mortals, by various passions,
and driven by a series of circumstances to definite actions. It was
felt that they, too, were subject to a certain spirit of the time,
the tendency of which, if the poet was attentively listened to, could
be plainly gathered. In this way conclusions might be drawn which shed
light even upon the events of the present.
True, it was forbidden to bring questions of the State and of religion
upon the stage. But has Shakspere really avoided treating upon them?
Richard Simpson has successfully shown that Shakspere, in his historical
plays, carried on a political discussion easily understood by his
contemporaries. [16] The maxims thus enunciated by the poet have been
ascertained by that penetrating critic in such a manner that the results
obtained can scarcely be subjected to doubt any more.
On comparing the older plays and chronicles of which the poet made use
for his historical dramas, with the creations that arose on this basis
under his powerful hand, one sees that he suppresses certain tendencies
of the subject-matter before him, placing others in their stead.
Taking fully into account all the artistic technicalities calculated to
produce a strong dramatic effect, we still find that he has evidently
made a number of changes with the clear and most persistent intention
of touching upon political questions of his time.
If, for instance, Shakspere's 'King John' is compared with the old play,
'The Troublesome Raigne,' and with the chronicles from which (but more
especially from the former piece) the poet has drawn the plan of
his dramatic action, it will be seen that very definite political
tendencies of what he had before him were suppressed. New ones are
put in their place. Shakspere makes his 'King John' go through two
different, wholly unhistorical struggles: _one against a foe at
home, who contests the King's legitimate right; the other against
Romanists who think it a sacred duty to overthrow the heretic_.
These were not the feuds with which the King John of history had to
contend.
But the daughter from the unhappy marriage of Henry VIII. and the
faithless Anne Boleyn--Queen Elizabeth--had, during her whole lifetime,
to contend against rebels who held Mary Stuart to be the legitimate
successor; and it was Queen Elizabeth who had always to remain armed
against a confederacy of enemies who, encouraged by the Pope, made war
upon the 'heretic' on the throne of England.
Thus, in the Globe Theatre, questions of the State were discussed; and
politics had their distinct place there. Yet who would enforce the rules
of censorship upon such language as this:--
This England never did, and never shall,
Lie at the proud feet of a Conqueror
But when it first did help to wound itself.
... Nought shall make us rue
If England to herself do rest but true?
Such thoughts were not taken from any old chronicle, but came from the
very soul of the age that had gained the great victory over the Armada.
They emphasized a newly-acquired independent position, which could only
be maintained by united strength against a foreign foe.
Even as 'King John,' so all the other historical plays contain a clearly
provable political tendency. Not everything done by the great queen met
with applause among the people. Dissatisfaction was felt at the
prominence of personal favourites, who made much abuse of commercial
monopolies granted to them. The burdens of taxation had become heavier
than in former times. In 'Richard the Second' a king is produced,
who by his misgovernment and by his maintenance of selfish favourites
loses his crown.
Shakspere's sympathies are with a prince whom Nature has formed into a
strong ruler; and such an aristocrat of the intellect is depicted in his
'Henry the Fifth.' In this ideal of a king, all the good national
qualities attain their apotheosis. This hero combines strength of
character with justice and bravery. With great severity he examines
his own conscience before proceeding to any action, however small.
War he makes with all possible humanity, and only for the furtherance
of civilisation. Nothing is more hated by Shakspere than a government
of weak hands. From such an unfortunate cause came the Wars of the
Two Roses. It seems that, in order to bring this fact home to the
understanding of the people, Shakspere put the sanguinary struggles
between the Houses of York and Lancaster on the stage. (See Epilogue
of 'King Henry the Fifth.')
More strongly even than in his plays referring to English history, the
deep aversion he felt to divided dominion pierces through his Roman
tragedies; for in Shakspere the aristocratic vein was not less developed
than in Goethe. To him, too, the multitude--
...This common body,
Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide
To rot itself with motion. [17]
As in politics, so also in the domain of religion (of all things the
most important to his contemporaries), Shakspere has made his
profession of faith. For its elucidation we believe we possess a
means not less sure than that which Richard Simpson has made use of
for fixing the political maxims of the great master.
'Hamlet' first appeared in a quarto edition of the year 1603. The
little book thus announces itself:--
'The Tragicall Historie of Hamlet Prince of Denmarke, By William
Shakespeare. As it hath been diverse times acted by his Highnesse
servants in the Cittie of London: as also in the two Vniversities
of Cambridge & Oxford, and elsewhere.'
This drama is different, in most essential traits, from the piece we
now possess, which came out a year later (1604), also in quarto edition.
The title of the latter is:--
'The Tragicall Historie of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. By William
Shakespeare, Newly imprinted and enlarged to almost as much-againe as
it was, according to the true & perfect coppie.'
The most diverse hypotheses have been started as to the relation between
the older 'Hamlet' and the later one. [18] We share the view of those
who maintain that the first quarto edition was a rough-draught, advanced
to a certain degree, and for which the poet, as is the case with so many
of his other plays, had used an older play as a kind of model. A
'rough-draught advanced to a certain degree' may be explained as a
piece already produced on the stage. The public, always eager to
see novelties, allowed the dramatists little time for fully working out
their conceptions. The plays matured, as it were, on the stage itself;
there they received their final shape and completion. As mentioned
before, that which had displeased was struck out, whilst the passages
that had obtained applause were often augmented, in order to confer
upon the play the attraction of novelty. 'Enlarged to almost as
much-againe as it was' is an expression which shows that 'Hamlet' had
drawn from the very beginning. The poet, thereby encouraged, then worked
out this drama into the powerful, comprehensive tragedy which we now
possess.
Now, in closely examining the changes and additions made in the second
'Hamlet,' we find that most of the freshly added philosophical thoughts,
and many characteristic peculiarities, have clear reference to the
philosophy of a certain book and the character of its author--namely,
to Michel Montaigne and his 'Essais.' This work first appeared in an
English translation in 1603, after it had already been entered at
Stationers' Hall for publication in 1599. The cause which may have
induced Shakspere to confer upon his 'Hamlet' the thoughts and
the peculiarities of Montaigne, and to give that play the shape in which
we now have it, will become apparent when we have to explain the
controversy between Jonson and Dekker. We have thus the advantage
over Simpson's method, that our theory will be confirmed from other
sources.
Montaigne's 'Essais' were a work which made a strong mark, and created
a deep sensation, in his own country. There, it had already gone through
twelve editions before it was introduced in England--eleven years after
the death of its author--by means of a translation. Here it found its
first admirers among the highest aristocracy and the patrons of
literature and art. Under such august auspices it penetrated into
the English public at large. The translator was a well-known teacher
of the Italian language, John Florio.