GERVINUS'S SHAKESPEARE COMMENTARIES.*

[SECOND NOME.]

Is this great German commentary on our national poet, casual expressions (and to do Professor Gervinus justice, he always seems to have the play at his fingers' ends) are brought together from distant scenes, detached from their context, and placed in a position which gives them quite new significance, when- ever sucli a dislocation suits his view of the character he is 'delineating. The deficiency in humorous appreciation adverted to in our previous notice lends itself with a facility all the more dangerous because quite unconscious to this habit. What is evidently banter he takes for serious earnest, and humorous exaggerations he accepts as literal statements of fact, in a manner which might almost throw a doubt on his knowledge of English, and certainly justifies us in looking with suspicion on a superstructure raised on such questionable foundations. In at least one instance also (p. 517), a somewha tludicrous effect is produced by the misappropriation to one person of words spoken by another. Instances of our author's lack of humour are, indeed, so numerous that it is really difficult to know which to adduce. Our examples shall be taken from a single play. Hotspur "is pliable and yield- ing like a lamb, in his true, unsuspicous nature," because he pro- fesses to have allowed Glendower to entertain him for nine hours with the several devils' names that were his lackeys." When Prince Hal announces that he is friends with his father and may do anything, Falstaff instantly answers him with the humorous recommendation to "Rob me the exchequer, the first thing thou dost." Though it sounds incredible, these words are made the basis of the serious accusation that Falstaff even tries to use the Prince as a means for robbing the Exchequer, and his fancy mounts so far, that after the Prince's accession to the throne, he would like to banish law and gallows, and to ennoble the nightly trade of the robber." The authority for the latter part of the charge is, of course, drawn from Falstaff's playful speeches to his " sweet wag" (i., 2). Bardolph's assertion that be "blushed to hear" Falstaff's "monstrous devices" is accepted as truth, and Prince John of Lancaster is supposed to eat only fish, on the faith of the knight's soliloquy about "these demure boys" and their "many fish meals." These two last instances are really surprising, for on the first occasion Gervinus's idol, Prince Hal, sees through Bardolph with an ease and clearness that should have prevented his worshipper from being led astray ; while on the other, it seems strange to find the Professor's bite noire, Falstaff, erected into an authority for anything. Perhaps the drollest example, how- ever, of his literalness, is his acceptance and serious criticism of Ilazlitt's jesting remark on Falstaff and Prince Hal, that to readers of poetry of the present day Falstaff appears the better man of the two ! To give one example from another play, Touchstone's humourous speech on the advantage of being married by Sir Oliver Martext, who was not like to marry him well, which would be a good excuse to leave his wife hereafter, is turned to strange use. He never intended, it appears, to marry Aubrey, .and his real motive in going through the ceremony is stated in great detail. Though how Touchstone could hope to be less securely married than the other three couples who were wedded at the same time and place, it is not easy to see.

However, it should be stated that very possibly the author may in some cases be belied by the translation. This, though purporting to be made under the author's superintendence, seems occasionally to fail in reproducing his meaning. The instances we marked in the reading are far too numerous to be quoted, but here are a few of the more promiuent from the first part of the book. At page 37, line 18 of., the context seems to show that "grace" cannot be the word which the author intended to employ. At page 169, line 17, the meaning is obviously exactly the reverse of what the words convey. At page 184, line 13, when the author says that Bertram gave his ring to one -whom he thought a "frivolous woman," the idea in his mind -was evidently not at all that which is expressed by the English 'words; and at page 223, line 14 af., the sentence as it stands is

• quite unintelligible, when taken in connection with the text of the play, for we are told that Romeo has not the prudence to lorbear whispering, whereas, in the play, we do not find that he whispers anything. Here are two examples taken from the

• Makespeare Conmientaries. By Dr. G. G. Gervinus. Translated by F. E. 33nmiett. London: Smith, Elder, and Co.

later part of the volume,—page 381, line 11 a.f., "gentlemanliness" does not mean the rank of a gentleman; and page 616, line 10 al., " meanness " can hardly have been the word which the author intended to apply to Richard III. It is hardly necessary to credit Silvia in the Two Gentlemen of Verona with deep insight into character for choosing Sir Eglamour as the companion of her journey, and just before asking of him what may prove a dangerous service, making him a civil speech. It may be doubted, too, whether that "auburn-haired" lady would be flattered at the parallel implied in a passage near the end of the remarks on this play. Speaking of Launce, Gervinus says :—" To the silly, semi- brute fellow, who sympathises with his beast almost more than with men, his dog is his best friend. He hassuffered stripes for him, he has taken his faults upon himself, and has been willing to sacrifice everything to him. At last, self-sacrificing like Valentine and Julia, he is willing to resign even this friend ; he is ready to abandon his best possession to do a service to his master." One is reminded by this comparison with Valentine and Julia of the story of the Lowland laird who on some occasion took a Highlander (a Campbell) into his employment. Finding the man disobedient, and inclined to do that which was right in his own eyes, the laird remons- trated, and by way of clinching the argument and bring- ing the matter home to his auditor's feelings, told him that while be paid his wages he was as much entitled to

obedience as if he were MacCallum More. " Aweel,' replied the scandalised and indignant clansman, "awed, an' it may be sae, but the Teevil tak the compairison!" Like Mrs. Jameson and others, Gervinus is an enthusiastic admirer of Helena in All's Well that Ends Well, and devotes much time and ingenuity to bringing into relief the beauty of her character. The following passage, indeed, looks as if he had some doubt of the universal acceptance of his view :—" Few readers, and still fewer female readers, will believe in Helena's womanly nature, even after they have read our explanations and have found them indisputable." Be that as it may, to say in her praise that "the difference of blood and rank has no importance for her," is in manifest contradiction with her own words,—" It were all one that I should love a bright, particular star, and think to wed it ; he is so above me." Above her in what ? Gervinus cannot think it is in merit, for he expressly says that "her desire is only to know how she could possibly deserve Bertram ; that she can de- serve, she doubts not." But when he challenges our admiration for Bertram, as a youth in whom nobility of nature is in- nate, though misled into youthful error, he makes too large a draft upon the docility of his readers. He tells us that Bertram, on reading the letter announcing his wife's death, is "changed almost into another man," that he "buries her not only in his thoughts, but deplores her ;" but he neglects to add that this penitent and heart-broken youth proceeds, without the loss of a minute, to keep his assignation with Diana! The memory invo- luntarily recurs to Sir Harry Wildair in Farquhar's play. The fact is, that Bertram behaves from first to last like a dishonour- able scamp. Personal courage he appears to have possessed, but was certainly dignified with no other virtue. Nothing need be said of his conduct to Diana in Florence, but his meanness at Perpignan is absolutely revolting. In the final scene no doubt be is grateful to Helena for extricating him from a very unpleasant position, but we entirely refuse to believe in his conversion, and though Gervinus assures us that "he, in his laconic way, com- presses all contrition, all gratitude and love, into the words, 'Both, both, 0 pardon!" we confess to trembling for Helena's future happiness.

"Wit ever wakeful, fancy busy and procreative as an insect, courage, an easy mind that without cares of its own is at once disposed to laugh away those of others, and yet to be interested in them ; these, and all other congenial qualities, melting into the common copula of them all, the man of rank and the gentleman, with all its excellences and all its weaknesses, constitute the character of Mercutio." So says Coleridge ; now listen to Gervinus :—" He is a man without culture, coarse, rude, and ugly, a scornful ridiculer of all sensibility and love." Which of the two descriptions is the more lifelike is a question which any reader of the play can solve for himself ; but the characterisation of Mercutio as ugly affords a good example of the Professor's habit of bringing up expressions from out-of-the-way corners to strengthen his view. His authority is evidently what Mercutio himself says in putting on a mask,—" What care I what

curious eye doth quote deformities, here are the beetle brows shall blush for me,"—words which can never have been meant to bear the meaning here attributed to them.

Old Capulet meets with scanty justice at Gervinus's hands, but Juliet is very lovingly dealt with. He gallantly defends her I from the "customary mock modesty" (meaning, apparently, 1 usual prudishness) of the English, who appear to hesitate at some rather outspoken expressions in her soliloquy (act iii., 2), or as he elsewhere calls it, her epithalamium ; and expresses his belief that "nowhere is the shame and charm of innocence so bewitchingly expressed as it is here." In the early part of the play, however, in his anxiety to prove her delight in Romeo's wit, he misinterprets a passage. "You kiss by the book," says Juliet ; that is, according to Gervinus, "with witty allusion and form."

She is probably, however, thinking of the book of arithmetic, by

which Mercutio afterwards says that Tybalt fights. "In kissing, do you render or receive?" says Cressida (act iv., 5); that is to say,

on which side of the account is the kiss to be entered ? Similarly, when Romeo has given a kiss and taken one, Juliet says that he keeps a debit and credit account, and enters the transaction on both aides.

Speaking generally, we should say that Gervinus succeeds better with the tragedies than the histories, and with the comedies the worst of all. When the histories, however, are quite serious,

and unmixed with humour, they are sometimes very well treated. Richard Iii., for instance, is one of his best elucidations. Comic

element there is none in the play, nor, except the grim humour of the King, anything to relieve the unbroken seriousness of the action. This is a state of things that exactly suits our commen-

tator, and accordingly the characters are exceedingly well drawn. The blending of dauntless courage with unequalled perfidy, of in- sinuating blandness with merciless cruelty, which formed the char- acter of the King himself, is exhibited in all its complex incon-

gruity. His courtship of Lady Ann, the business-like calmness with which he arranges the murder of "plain, simple Clarence," the superior ability by which he outwits the self-sufficient

Buckingham, his cold-blooded treachery to the unsuspect- ing Hastings, and his second courtship, in which he

bends to his will the "relenting fool and shallow, changing woman" (there is no trace in the play of the cunning by which, according to Gervinus, she outwitted him), are carefully and strikingly set before us. Perhaps, however, it is painting the Devil needlessly black to talk of the innate brutality of Richard's character. Utterly unscrupulous, shrinking from no crime, deterred by no consideration, human or divine, mocking at

conscience as a "word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe," he pursued his object with unflinching and

pitiless tenacity. Whatever interfered, or seemed likely to inter- fere, with that object must be immediately and completely crushed. Clarence stood between him and the throne,—he was murdered. Hastings thought the crown would be "foully mis- placed" on Richard's head,—he lost his own. The Queen's rela- tions were obnoxious to him, and were executed accordingly.

"High-reaching Buckingham" grew circumspect, and soon found his way to the scaffold. But all these crimes were, from his point of view, necessary, nor is there anything to show that cruelty for cruelty's sake delighted him,—that, use the words of our author, brutality was innate in his character. Immediately before the battle of Bosworth, when Stanley refused to come," Off with his son George's head !" says Richard, but on Norfolk's telling him the enemy is past the marsh, "A thousand hearts are great within my bosom !" cries he, and leads his horsemen on the foe without bestow- ing another thought on the Stanleys and their treason. Would King John have acted so ?—the King John of history and Shake- speare, we mean, not the monarch whom Gervinus treats with such unaccountable lenity. And surely it is "to consider too curiously to consider "that the Duchess of York's most grievous curse" is fulfilling itself when the King asks if his beaver is easier. The Chronicles which Shakespeare, particularly in this play, followed with great exactness, always represent Richard as a thorough soldier. His words are spoken on the eve of a battle which is "to cheer him ever or dissent him now," and it is surely quite natural that he should be anxious about his helmet fitting properly, and seek to assure himself that his lance is stout and of manageable size.

But even in this play, as in others of the Professor's happiest efforts, King Lear and Cymbeline, for example, one can never quite get rid of the idea that it is not Shakespeare we are read-

ing, but a Gervinisafion of the poet, which is by no means equally satisfactory. Our most serious complaint, however, against the

Professor is his everywhere apparent, and not unfrequently for- mulated, conviction that each and every one of Shakespeare's plays were written to inculcate some special moral lesson. For instance, page 232, speaking of the Merchant of Venice, he says " Ulrici (and Rtischer also) perceive the fundamental idea of the Merchant of Venice in this sentence, suannum jus summa injuria." ' And

again, page 233, "We may say after our own fashion, in a more

abstract and less pretentious form, that the poet's intention in the Merchant of Venice is to depict the relation of man to property." Taken thus in the concrete, the theory is perhaps a trifle obscure,

—indeed, of the two, we prefer Ulrici's and ROscher's explanation, which has at least the merit of being easily intelligible. But against the whole doctrine we feel bound to enter our most energetic pro- test. What ! are Shakespeare's Plays to be degraded to the level of a collection of moral tales ? Is the creator of Hamlet and Lear to be classed in the same category with the author of

Lazy Lawrence and Simple Susan ? No one who has read these commentaries would accuse their author of wilfully undervaluing Shakespeare, but this is the practical outcome of such a doctrine No! he was a great dramatic poet, the most marvelously skilful delineator of human conduct and character whom the world has- ever seen, not a writer of what is termed "instructive fiction." As

men and women act in his plays, so we may be sure, given the circumstances, they would act in real life: but he never travels out of his province to draw a moral from their actions. That he leaves to us. Still less does he use them like figures in a puppet- show, directing their evolutions in conformity with a certain plan, pointing to a certain end. He lets the circumstances shape them- selves, and the consequences flow naturally and inevitably from them. Morals may no doubt be drawn from all his plays, as they may from almost anything else; does he not himself teach us that we may "gather honey from the weed, and make a moral of the Devil himself?" But this is a very different thing from saying that when-

ever he composed a play he sat down of set purpose, and with malice prepense and aforethought, to compose an illustration of some previously determined moral. Indeed, Gervinus explains.

upon one occasion Shakespeare's modes operandi so clearly, that

though our quotations have already been somewhat numerous, we must cite a few lines more :—

" Shakespeare recognises only human gifts and dispositions, and a• human freedom, reason, and volition to use them well or ill, madly or- with moderation. He recognises only a fate which the man forges for- himself from this good or bad use, although he may accuse tho powers without him as its author, as Romeo does the 'inauspicious stars.' With him, as throughout actual life, outward circumstances and inward character work one into the other with alternating effect."

Every word of this has our cordial concurrence ; how it is to be- reconciled with the fantocciai theory is another matter.

We must not omit to thank Mr. Furnivall for an introduction which displays much study, and also great originality in the spelling.