Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 August 1887 — Shakspeare Study. [ARTICLE]

Shakspeare Study.

Among the many solemn humbugs by which the world is fooled, there is not one more shallow than the pretens. of some tragic rrd to bo considered what are caiiei “students of Siiak-spt-are.” If tit;'- rVtm means anything, it presumes that t'le works oi this poet Are of such mystic and misty profundity that deep research and kindred inspiration are required to discover his hidX'u meaning, and these actors are ordained to expound this bible of tho stage. Humbug! A iragedy is a great literary effort designed, not to be read or meditated upon, but to be represented before a mixed audience. Ids language, therefore, should be clear and unmistakf-11c as it flows from the mouths of the speakers; its actioai si ion Id be clear and perspicuous. If it is not so, then the poet is ail at fault He is not a prophet; his business is not to tell lies about wliat is to be; so he lias no reason to be obscure. There art no two ways about hiui; he has no reason for misleading or for mystifying the people. The so-called student of Shakspeare is a narrow-minded fellow who seeks to torture the palpable meaning of trivial passages into what are termed “new readings” for the purpose of rendering himself conspicuous at the expense of the poet, to .whom lie imputes obscurity, tho very worst fault a dramatist can exhibit. If such, fellows could arouse the sleeping spirit of the grand old man, recall him like the ghost in “ Hamlet” to revisit the glimpses of the moon, and then submit to him their new readings, I can imagine his reply. “What on earth does it matter? Either interpretation will serve. I cannot remember which I intended. My dramas were written under tho spur of necessity to meet the crying needs of the theater of which I was one of the managers. They will be found to contain errors and blemishes. Let thorn be so, and do not encourage infatuated worshipers to turn defects into beau-, ties. Nature is full es imperfections, and if it pleased the great author to leave this work so to eternity, why seek perfection in every miserable little heap of dust? These trivial details you bring to my notiei do not affect the purpose and shape of my play; and if they concern neither the action nor the passion nor the characters, why make so much ado about DOthing? lam neither bonded nor flattered by the blind wo.tship bestowed upon my works by some writers. If my existence had depended upon these text grubbers, I should have been shelved two centuries ago between Ben Johnson and Massinger, or buried with Beaumont and Fletcher. I owe my existence to the stage, to the ac tor. No dramatic poet has any existence in the closet. Out of my thirty-six plays, about a dozed survive. The rest are preserved for the admiration of those who never read them. Each of the dozen will bo found to afford a conspicuous and all-absorb-ing character for the great actor or actress. Whenever a well-written play affords such an opportunity, it will hold its life on the stage. “The ‘Two Gentlemen of Verona’ and ‘Love’s Labor Lost.’ are read as a matter of duty .to the author of * Hamlet’ and ‘ Othello.’ I owe my existence to such actors as Edmund Kean and Garrick, xvho joined spirits with me, embraced ray passion, and embodied my characters. They changed my language and reshaped my work to fit their qualities, and they did it well. This is tho way to study Shakspeare.” The actor’s power to represent a passion is a gift, not a deliberate artistic effort obtained by study. It is a faculty, to be developed and improved by practice. The poet only affords the actor an opportunity to display his powers; one is the complement of the other in the grand result. The actor who is built on a poet—such is the socalled student—is merely a mouthpiece, not an artist, for he should obtain his inspiration as the poet gets his, out of his inner gifts. I, who say this, am both an actor and a poet, and I speak of wliat I know. Then —may I be forgiven for saying so—there are some young women whose education has stopped short somewhere between writing and spelling, who are thrust up into conspicuous positions on the stage, and taking refuge behind their good looks, profess to be students of Shakspeare. O, the humbug of it all! and how the dear world is fooled by it !—Dion Bovr cicault.