III
To say this is to say that Verrall, however lucid and skilful and brilliant, was a discoverer of mares’ nests. And a host of undramatic critics have skilfully exercised their lucid brilliance in discovering mares’ nests in Shakspere’s plays. Most of them are stolid Teutons, with Gervinus and Ulrici in the forefront of the procession. They analyzed the tragedies of Shakspere with the sincere conviction that he was a philosopher with a system as elaborate as those of Kant and Hegel; and they did not seem to suspect that even if a dramatist is a philosopher he is—and must be—first of all a playwright, whose invention and construction are conditioned by the theater for which he is working. Even in the greatest plays philosophy is a by-product; and the main object of the great dramatist is always to arouse and retain and reward the interest of his immediate audience.
He must make his story plain to the comprehension of the average playgoer; and he must therefore provide his characters with motives which are immediately apparent and instantly plausible. Shakspere is ever anxious that his spectators shall not be misled, and he goes so far as to have his villains, Richard III and Iago, frankly inform the audience that they are villains, a confession which in real life neither of these astute scoundrels would ever have made to anybody. The playwright knows that if he loses his case before the jury, he can never move for a retrial; the verdict is without appeal. It may be doubted whether any dramatist has ever cared greatly for the opinion of posterity. Assuredly no popular playwright—and in their own day every great dramatist was a popular playwright—would have found any compensation for the failure of his play in the hope and expectation that two hundred or two thousand years later its difficulties might be explained by a Verrall, however lucid and skilful and brilliant this belated expounder might be.
There are two Shaksperian mares’ nests which may be taken as typical, altho the eggs in them are not more obviously addled than in a host of others. One was discovered in ‘Macbeth,’ in the scene of Banquo’s murder. Macbeth incites two men to make way with Banquo; but when the deed is done, three murderers take part in it. Two of them are the pair we have seen receiving instructions from Macbeth. Who is the third? An undramatic critic once suggested that this third murderer is no less a person than Macbeth himself, joining his hired assassins to make sure that they do the job in workmanlike fashion. The suggester supported his suggestion by an argument in eight points, no one of which carries any weight, because we may be sure that if Shakspere had meant Macbeth to appear in person, he would have taken care to let the audience know it. He would not have left it hidden to be uncovered two and a half centuries after his death by the skilful lucidity of a brilliant undramatic critic.
It is reasonably certain that Burbage, who acted Richard III and Hamlet, also acted Macbeth; and Shakspere would never have sent this renowned performer on the stage to take part in a scene without justifying his share in it and without informing the spectators that their favorite was before them. Shakspere was an actor himself; he knew what actors wanted and what they liked; he took good care of their interests; and we may rest assured that he never asked Burbage to disguise his identity. If he had meant the third murderer to be Macbeth, we should have had the stage direction, “Enter two murderers with Macbeth disguised.” As it is, the stage direction reads “Enter three murderers.”
The other mare’s nest has been found in ‘King Lear.’ It has often been pointed out that Cordelia is absent from a large portion of the action of the tragedy, altho her presence might have aided its effectiveness. It has been noted also that Cordelia and the Fool are never seen on the stage together. And this has prompted the suggestion that the Fool is Cordelia in disguise. Here again we see the undramatic critic at his worst. If Shakspere had meant this, he would have made it plain to the spectators the first time Cordelia appeared as the Fool,—otherwise her assumption of this part would have been purposeless, confusing, futile. Whatever poignancy there might be in the companioning of the mad king by his cast-off daughter all unknown to him, would be unfelt if her assumption of the Fool’s livery was not at once recognized. The suggestion is not only inacceptable, it is unthinkable by anyone who has even an elementary perception of the playmaking art. It could have emanated only from an undramatic critic who was familiar with ‘King Lear’ in the study and not on the stage, who regarded the sublimest of Shakspere’s tragedies as a dramatic poem and not as a poetic drama planned for the playhouse.
Yet this inept suggestion can be utilized to explain the fact that Cordelia and the Fool never meet before the eyes of the spectators. The cast of characters in ‘King Lear’ is very long; and quite possibly it called for more actors than there were in the limited company at the Globe. We know that in the Tudor theater a performer was often called upon to sustain two parts. It is possible that the shaven lad who impersonated Cordelia was the only available actor for the Fool, and that therefore Cordelia—at whatever loss to the effectiveness of the play—could not appear in the scenes in which the Fool had to appear. Cordelia did not don the disguise of the Fool; but the same performer may have doubled the two parts. That much of supposition can be ventured for whatever it may be worth.