himself in the position of William Shakspeare about to write a piece,--the play abovenamed. This may be attempted without presumption. We wish to recall and make real the fact that our idol was a man, subject to the usual circumstances of men living in his time, and to those which affect all men at all times,--that he had the same round of day and night to pass through, the same common household accidents which render "no man a hero to his valet." The world was as real to him as it is to us. The dreamy past, of two hundred and fifty years since, was to him the present of one of the most stirring periods in history, when wonders were born quite as frequently as they are now.
And having persuaded the reader to place himself in Shakspeare's position, we will make one more very slight request, which is, that he will occupy another chair in the same chamber and fancy that he sees the immortal dramatist begin a work,--still keeping himself so far in his position that he can observe the workings of his mind as he writes.
Shakspeare has fixed upon a name for his piece, and he writes it,--he that the players told Ben Jonson "never blotted a line." It is the tragedy,--
TIMON OF ATHENS.
He will have it in five acts, as the best form; and he has fixed upon his _dramatis personae_, at least the principal of them, for he names them on the margin as he writes. He uses twelve in the first scene, some of whom he has no occasion for but to bring forward the character of his hero; but they are all individualized while he employs them. The scene he has fixed upon; this is present to his mind's eye; and as he cannot afterwards alter it without making his characters talk incongruously and being compelled to rewrite the whole, he writes it down thus:--
ACT I.
SCENE I.--_A Hall in Timon's House._
Now he has reflected that his first object is to interest his audience in the action and passion of the piece,--at the very outset, if possible, to catch their fancies and draw them into the mimic life of the play,--to beguile and attract them without their knowing it. He has reflected upon this, we say,--for see how artfully he opens the scene, and how soon the empty stage is peopled with life! He chooses to begin by having two persons enter from opposite wings, whose qualities are known at once to the reader of the play, but not to an audience. The stage-direction informs us:--
[_Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors._
We shall see how at the same time they introduce and unfold their own characters and awaken an interest in the main action. In writing, we are obliged to name them. They do not all enter quite at once. At first comes
_Poet._ Good day, Sir. _Painter._ I am glad to see you well. _Poet._ I have not seen you long; how goes the world? _Painter._ It wears, Sir, as it grows.
This shows them to be acquaintances.--While the next reply is made, in which the Poet begins to talk in character even before the audience know him, two others enter from the same side, as having just met, and others in the background.
_Poet._ Ay, that's well known:-- But what particular rarity? what strange, That manifold record not matches? See,
And we fancy him waving his hand in an enthusiastic manner,--
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjured to attend.
Which manner is only a high-flowing habit, for he adds in the same breath, dropping his figure suddenly,--
I know the merchant. _Painter._ I know them both; t'other's a jeweller.
It is certainly natural that painters should know jewellers,--and, perhaps, that poets should be able to recognize merchants, though the converse might not hold. We now know who the next speakers are, and soon distinguish them.
_Merchant._ Oh, 'tis a worthy lord! _Jeweller._ Nay, that's most fixed. _Merchant._ A most incomparable man; breathed as it were To an untirable and continuate goodness: He passes. _Jeweller. _I have a jewel here.
The Jeweller being known, the Merchant is; and, it will be noticed that the first speaks in a cautious manner.
_Merchant._ Oh, pray, let's see it! For the lord Timon, Sir? _Jeweller. _If he will touch the estimate; but, for that----
We begin to suspect who is the "magic of bounty" and the "incomparable man," and also to have an idea that all these people have come to his house to see him.--While the Merchant examines the jewel, the first who spoke, the high-flown individual, is pacing and talking to himself near the one he met:--
_Poet. When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good._
Perhaps he
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