or, as I suppose, to some botcher of Shakespeare, for he 'd hardly have left such patches on his own work—each reader can judge for himself." Fleay thinks that this inferior work "may be only early." II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT. If Shakespeare did not draw his materials from some earlier play, he probably took "the love-story" from Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, and "the camp story" from the Recuyell of the historyes of Troye, translated and drawen out of frenshe into englishe by W. Caxton, 1471 (from Raoul le Fèvre's Recueil des Histoires de Troyes), or Lydgate's Hystorye, Sege and dystruccyon of Troye, 1513, 1555 (from Guido di Colonna), or both. Thersites, or at least a hint of the character, seems to be taken from Chapman's Iliad, the first seven books of which appeared in 1597. Ward (Dramatic Lit. i. 433) remarks: "Though the story of Troy has continued to furnish poetic literature—and especially that of the drama-with themes, I am not aware that any other hand has followed Shakespeare's in reproducing the episode, mediæval rather than antique in its essence, of Troilus and Cressida." III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY. [From Coleridge's "Lectures upon Shakspeare." *] There is no one of Shakspeare's plays harder to characterize. The name, and the remembrances connected with it, prepare us for the representation of attachment no less faithful than fervent on the side of the youth, and of sudden and shameless inconstancy on the part of the lady. And this is, indeed, as the gold thread on which the scenes are strung, though often kept out of sight, and out of mind by gems of greater value than itself. But as Shakspeare calls forth noth * Coleridge's Works (Harper's ed.), vol. iv. p. 98 fol. ing from the mausoleum of history, or the catacombs of tradition, without giving, or eliciting, some permanent and general interest, and brings forward no subject which he does not moralize or intellectualize, so here he has drawn in Cressida the portrait of a vehement passion, that, having its true origin and proper cause in warmth of temperament, fastens on, rather than fixes to, some one object by liking and temporary preference. "There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out This Shakspeare has contrasted with the profound affection represented in Troilus, and alone worthy the name of love-affection, passionate indeed, swollen with the confluence of youthful instincts and youthful fancy, and growing in the radiance of hope newly risen, in short enlarged by the collective sympathies of nature; but still having a depth of calmer element in a will stronger than desire, more entire than choice, and which gives permanence to its own act by converting it into faith and duty. Hence with excellent judgment, and with an excellence higher than mere judgment can give, at the close of the play, when Cressida has sunk into infamy below retrieval and beneath hope, the same will, which had been the substance and the basis of his love, while the restless pleasures and passionate longings, like sea-waves, had tossed but on its surface—this same moral energy is represented as snatching him aloof from all neighbour. hood with her dishonour, from all lingering fondness and languishing regrets, whilst it rushes with him into other and nobler duties, and deepens the channel which his heroic brother's death had left empty for its collected flood. Yet another secondary and subordinate purpose Shakspeare has nwoven with his delineation of these two characters-that of opposing the inferior civilization, but purer morals, of the Trojans to the refinements, deep policy, but duplicity and sensual corruptions of the Greeks. arh To all this, however, so little comparative projection is given-nay, the masterly group of Agamemnon, Nestor, and Ulysses, and, still more in advance, that of Achilles, Ajax, and Thersites, so manifestly occupy the foreground—that the subservience and vassalage of strength and animal courage to intellect and policy seems to be the lesson most often in our poet's view, and which he has taken little pains to connect with the former more interesting moral impersonated in the titular hero and heroine of the drama. But I am half inclined to believe that Shakspeare's main object, or, shall I rather say, his ruling impulse, was to translate the poetic heroes of paganism into the not less rude, but more intellectually vigorous, and more featurely, warriors of Christian chivalry, and to substantiate the distinct and graceful profiles or outlines of the Homeric epic into the flesh and blood of the romantic drama-in short, to give a grand history-piece in the robust style of Albert Dürer. The character of Thersites, in particular, well deserves a more careful examination, as the Caliban of demagogic life: the admirable portrait of intellectual power deserted by all grace, all moral principle, all not momentary impulse; just wise enough to detect the weak head, and fool enough to provoke the armed fist of his betters; one whom malcontent Achilles can inveigle from malcontent Ajax, under the one condition, that he shall be called on to do nothing but abuse and slander, and that he shall be allowed to abuse as much and as purulently as he likes, that is, as he can—in short, a mule, quarrelsome by the original discord of his nature; a slave by tenure of his own baseness, made to bray and be brayed at, to despise and be despicable. "Ay, sir, but say what you will, he is a very clever fellow, though the best friends will fall out. There was a time when Ajax thought he deserved to have a statue of gold erected to him, and handsome Achilles, at the head of the Myrmidons, gave no little credit to his friend Thersites !" [From William Godwin's "Life of Chaucer."*] Since two of the greatest writers this island has produced have treated the same story, each in his own peculiar manner, it may be neither unentertaining nor uninstructive to consider the merit of their respective modes of composition as illustrated in the present example. Chaucer's poem includes many beauties, many genuine touches of nature, and many strokes of an exquisite pathos. It is on the whole, however, written in that style which has unfortunately been so long imposed upon the world as dignified, classical, and chaste. It is naked of incidents, of ornament, of whatever should most awaken the imagination, astound the fancy, or hurry away the soul. It has the stately march of a Dutch burgomaster as he appears in a procession, or a French poet as he shows himself in his works. It reminds one too forcibly of a tragedy of Racine. Every thing partakes of the author, as if he thought he should be everlastingly disgraced by becoming natural, inartificial, and alive. We travel through a work of this sort as we travel over some of the immense downs with which our island is interspersed. All is smooth, or undulates with so gentle and slow a variation as scarcely to be adverted to by the sense. But all is homogeneous and tiresome; the mind sinks into a state of aching torpidity; and we feel as if we should never get to the end of our eternal journey. What a contrast to a journey among mountains and valleys, spotted with herds of various kinds of cattle, interspersed with villages, opening ever and anon to a view of the distant ocean, and refreshed with rivulets and streams; where if the eye is ever fatigued, it is only with the boundless flood of beauty which is incessantly pouring upon it! Such is the tragedy of Shakespeare. The historical play of Troilus and Cressida exhibits as full a specimen of the different styles in which this won*As quoted by Verplanck, p. 60 of T. and C. B derful writer was qualified to excel as is to be found in any of his works. A more poetical passage, if poetry consists in sublime, picturesque, and beautiful imagery, neither ancient nor modern times have produced than the exhortation addressed by Patroclus to Achilles, to persuade him to shake off his passion for Polyxena, the daughter of Priam, and resume the terrors of his military greatness : 66 Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, Be shook to air" (iii. 3). Never did morality hold a language more profound, persuasive, and irresistible than in Shakespeare's Ulysses, who in the same scene, and engaged in the same cause with Patroclus, thus expostulates with the champion of the Grecian forces: "For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue. If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost: there you lie, Like to a gallant horse fallen in first rank, For pavement to the abject rear, o'er-run And trampled on. ... O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was! For beauty, wit, high birth, desert in service, To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,- And give to dust, that is a little gilt, More praise than they will give to gold o'erdusted. The cry went once on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, |