not mere poetical abstractions-nor (as they have been termed) mere abstracts of the affections, But common clay ta'en from the common earth, Moulded by God, and tempted by the tears Of angels, to the perfect form of—woman. MEDON. Beautiful lines!-Where are they? ALDA. I quote from memory, and I am afraid inaccurately, from a poem of Alfred Tennyson's. MEDON. Well, between argument, and sentiment, and logic, and poetry, you are making out a very plausible case. I think with you, that, in the instances you have mentioned (a Lady Macbeth and Richard, Juliet and Othello, and others), the want of comparative power is only an additional excellence; but to go to an opposite extreme of delineation, we must allow that there is not one of Shakspeare's women that, as a dramatic character, can be compared to Falstaff ALDA. No; because anything like Falstaff in the form of woman-any such compound of wit, sensuality, and selfishness, unchecked by the moral sentiments and the affections, and touched with the same vigorous painting, would be a gross and monstrous caricature. If it could exist in nature we might find it in Shakspeare; but a moment's reflection shows us that it would be essentially an impossible combination of faculties in a female. MEDON. It strikes me, however, that his humorous women are feebly drawn, in comparison with some of the female wits of other writers. D ALDA. Because his wonen of wit and humor are not introduced for the sole purpose of saying brilliant things, and displaying the wit of the author; they are, as I will show you, real, natural women, in whom wit is only a particular and occasional modification of intellect. They are all, in the first place, affectionate, thinking beings, and moral agents; and then witty, as if by accident, or as the Duchesse de Chaulnes said of herself, "par la grâce de Dieu." As to humor, it is carried as far as possible in Mrs. Quickly; in the termagant Catherine; in Maria, in "Twelfth Night;" in Juliet's nurse; in Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page. What can exceed in humorous naïveté, Mrs. Quickly's upbraiding Falstaff, and her concluding appeal-" Didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings?" Is it not exquisite-irresistible? Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page are both "merry wives," but how perfectly discriminated! Mrs. Ford has the most good nature-Mrs. Page is the cleverer of the two, and has more sharpness in her tongue, more mischief in her mirth. In all these instances I allow that the humor is more or less vulgar; but a humorous woman, whether in high or low life, has always a tinge of vulgarity. MEDON. I should like to see that word vulgar properly defined, and its meaning limited-at present it is the most arbitrary word in the language. ALDA. Yes, like the word romantic, it is a convenient " exploding word," and in its general application signifies nothing more than see how much finer I am than other people!"* but in literature and character I shall adhere to the definition of Madame de Stacl, who uses the word vulgar as the reverse of poetical. Vulgarity (as I wish to apply the word) is the negative in all things. In literature, it is the total absence of elevation and depth * See Foster's Essay on the application of the word romantic.-Essays, vol. i. in the ideas, and of elegance and delicacy in the expression of them. In character, it is the absence of truth, sensibility, and reflection. The vulgar in manner, is the result of vulgarity of character; it is grossness, hardness, or affectation.-If you would see how Shakspeare has discriminated, not only different degrees, but different kinds of plebeian vulgarity in woman, you have only to compare the nurse in Romeo and Juliet with Mrs Quickly. On the whole, if there are people who, taking the strong and essential distinction of sex into consideration, still maintain that Shakspeare's female characters are not, in truth, in variety, in power, equal to his men, I think I shall prove the contrary. MEDON. I observe that you have divided your illustrations into classes; but shades of character so melt into each other, and the various faculties and powers are SO blended and balanced, balanced, that all classification must be arbitrary. I am at a loss to conceive where you have drawn the line; here, at the head of your first chapter, I find "Characters of Intellect"-do you call Portia intellectual, and Hermione and Constance not so? ALDA. I know that Schlegel has said that it is impossible to arrange Shakspeare's characters in classes: yet some classification was necessary for my purpose. I have therefore divided them into characters in which intellect and wit predominate; characters in which fancy and passion predominate; and characters in which the moral sentiments and affections predominate. The historical characters I have considered apart, as requiring a different mode of illustration. Portia I regard as a perfect model of an intellectual woman, in whom wit is tempered by sensibility, and fancy regulated by strong reflection. It is objected to her, to Beatrice, and others of Shakspeare's women, that the display of vntellect is tinged with a coarseness of manner belonging to the age in which he wrote. To remark that the conversation and letters of highbred and virtuous women of that time were more our bold and frank in expression than any part of the dialogue appropriated to Beatrice and Rosalind, may excuse it to judgment, but does not reconcile it to our taste. Much has been said, and more might be said on this subject-but I would rather not discuss it. It is a mere difference of manner which is to be regretted, but has nothing to do with the essence of the character. MEDON. I think you have done well in avoiding the topic altogether; but between ourselves, do you really think that the refinement of manner, the censorious, hypocritical, verbal scrupulosity, which is carried so far in this "picked age" of ours, is a true sign of superior refinement of taste, and purity of morals? Is it not rather a whiting of the sepulchre? I will not even allude to individual instances whom we both know, but does it not remind you, on the whole, of the tone of French manners previous to the revolution-that "décence," which Horace Walpole so admired,* veiling the moral degradation, the inconceivable profligacy of the higher classes ?-Stay-I have not yet done-not to you, but for you, I will add thus much-our modern idea of delicacy apparently attaches more importance to words than to things-to manners than to morals. You will hear people inveigh against the improprieties of Shakspeare, with Don Juan, or one of those infernal French novels-I beg your pardon-lying on their toilet table. Lady Florence is shocked at the sallies of Beatrice, and Beatrice would certainly stand aghast to see Lady Florence dressed for Almack's; so you see in both cases the fashion makes the indecorum. Let her ladyship new model her gowns! ALDA. Well, well, leave Lady Florence-I would rather hear you defend Shakspeare. MEDON. I think it is Coleridge who so finely observes, that Shakspeare *Correspondence, vol. iii. ever kept the high road of human life, whereon all travel, that he did not pick out by-paths of feeling and sentiment; in him we have no moral highwaymen, and sentimental thieves and rat-catchers, and interesting villains, and amiable, elegant adulteresses-à-la-mode Germanorum-no delicate entanglements of situation, in which the grossest images are presented to the mind disguised under the superficial attraction of style and sentiment. He flattered no bad passion, disguised no vice in the garb of virtue, trifled with no just and generous principle. He can make us laugh at folly, and shudder at crime, yet still preserve our love for our fellow beings, and our reverence for ourselves. He has a lofty and a fearless trust in his own powers, and in the beauty and excellence of virtue; and with his eye fixed on the lode-star of truth, steers us triumphantly among shoals and quicksands, where with any other pilot we had been wrecked-for instance, who but himself would have dared to bring into close contact two such characters as Iago and Desdemona ? Had the colors in which he has arrayed Desdemona been one atom less transparently bright and pure, the charm had been lost; she could not have borne the approximation: some shadow from the overpowering blackness of his character must have passed over the sunbright purity of hers. For observe that Iago's disbelief in the virtue of Desdemona is not pretended, it is real. It arises from his total want of faith in all virtue; he is no more capable of conceiving goodness, than she is capable of conceiving evil. To the brutish coarseness and fiendish malignity of this man, her gentleness appears only a contemptible weakness; her purity of affection, which saw "Othello's visage in his mind," only a perversion of taste; her bashful modesty, only a cloak for evil propensities; so he represents them with all the force of language and self-conviction, and we are obliged to listen to him. He rips her to pieces before us― he would have bedeviled an angel! yet such is the unrivalled, though passive delicacy of the delineation, that it can stand it unhurt, untouched! It is wonderful!-yet natural as it is wonderful! After all, there are people in the world, whose opinions and feelings are tainted by an habitual acquaintance with the evil side of society, though in action and intention they remain right; and who, without the real depravity of heart and malignity of intention |