Shakespeare and the Modern Stage | Page 3

217
IV. The National Memorial at Stratford-on-Avon 219
V. Shakespeare's Association with London 226
VI. The Value of a London Memorial as a Symbol of his Universal
Influence 228
VII. The Real Significance of Milton's Warning against a Monumental
Commemoration of Shakespeare 230
VIII. The Undesirability of making the Memorial serve Utilitarian
Purposes 235
IX. The Present State of the Plastic Art. The Imperative Need of
securing a Supreme Work of Sculpture 236
INDEX 245

SHAKESPEARE AND THE MODERN STAGE

I
SHAKESPEARE AND THE MODERN STAGE[1]
[Footnote 1: This paper was first printed in The Nineteenth Century,
January 1900.]
I
Without "the living comment and interpretation of the theatre,"
Shakespeare's work is, for the rank and file of mankind, "a deep well
without a wheel or a windlass." It is true that the whole of the spiritual
treasures which Shakespeare's dramas hoard will never be disclosed to
the mere playgoer, but "a large, a very large, proportion of that
indefinite all" may be revealed to him on the stage, and, if he be no
patient reader, will be revealed to him nowhere else.
There are earnest students of Shakespeare who scorn the theatre and
arrogate to themselves in the library, often with some justification, a
greater capacity for apprehending and appreciating Shakespeare than is
at the command of the ordinary playgoer or actor. But let Sir Oracle of
the study, however full and deep be his knowledge, "use all gently." Let
him bear in mind that his vision also has its limitations, and that student,
actor, and spectator of Shakespeare's plays are all alike exploring a
measureless region of philosophy and poetry, "round which no
comprehension has yet drawn the line of circumspection, so as to say to
itself 'I have seen the whole.'" Actor and student may look at
Shakespeare's text from different points of view: but there is always as
reasonable a chance that the efficient actor may disclose the full
significance of some speech or scene which escapes the efficient
student, as that the student may supply the actor's lack of insight.
It is, indeed, comparatively easy for a student of literature to support

the proposition that Shakespeare can be, and ought to be, represented
on the stage. But it is difficult to define the ways and means of securing
practical observance of the precept. For some years there has been a
widening divergence of view respecting methods of Shakespearean
production. Those who defend in theory the adaptability of
Shakespeare to the stage are at variance with the leading managers,
who alone possess the power of conferring on the Shakespearean drama
theatrical interpretation. In the most influential circles of the theatrical
profession it has become a commonplace to assert that Shakespearean
drama cannot be successfully produced, cannot be rendered tolerable to
any substantial section of the playgoing public, without a plethora of
scenic spectacle and gorgeous costume, much of which the student
regards as superfluous and inappropriate. An accepted tradition of the
modern stage ordains that every revival of a Shakespearean play at a
leading theatre shall base some part of its claim to public favour on its
spectacular magnificence.
The dramatic interest of Shakespearean drama is, in fact, deemed by the
manager to be inadequate to satisfy the necessary commercial purposes
of the theatre. The average purveyor of public entertainment reckons
Shakespeare's plays among tasteless and colourless commodities,
which only become marketable when they are reinforced by the
independent arts of music and painting. Shakespeare's words must be
spoken to musical accompaniments specially prepared for the occasion.
Pictorial tableaux, even though they suggest topics without relevance to
the development of the plot, have at times to be interpolated in order to
keep the attention of the audience sufficiently alive.
One deduction to be drawn from this position of affairs is irrefutable.
Spectacular embellishments are so costly that, according to the system
now in vogue, the performance of a play of Shakespeare involves
heavy financial risks. It is equally plain that, unless the views of
theatrical managers undergo revolution, these risks are likely to become
greater rather than smaller. The natural result is that in London, the city
which sets the example to most English-speaking communities,
Shakespearean revivals are comparatively rare; they take place at
uncertain intervals, and only those plays are viewed with favour by the

London manager which lend themselves in his opinion to more or less
ostentatious spectacle, and to the interpolation of music and dancing.
It is ungrateful to criticise adversely any work the production of which
entails the expenditure of much thought and money. More especially is
it distasteful when the immediate outcome is, as in the case of many
Shakespearean revivals at the great West-end theatres of London, the
giving of pleasure to large sections of the community. That is in itself a