phorisms, but not in an artistic dramatic
production, the object of which is to elicit sympathy with that which is
represented. Therefore the monologs and sayings of Shakespeare, even did
they contain very many deep and new thoughts, which they do not, do not
constitute the merits of an artistic, poetic production. On the
contrary, these speeches, expressed in unnatural conditions, can only
spoil artistic works.
An artistic, poetic work, particularly a drama, must first of all excite
in the reader or spectator the illusion that whatever the person
represented is living through, or experiencing, is lived through or
experienced by himself. For this purpose it is as important for the
dramatist to know precisely what he should make his characters both do
and say as what he should not make them say and do, so as not to destroy
the illusion of the reader or spectator. Speeches, however eloquent and
profound they may be, when put into the mouth of dramatic characters, if
they be superfluous or unnatural to the position and character, destroy
the chief condition of dramatic art--the illusion, owing to which the
reader or spectator lives in the feelings of the persons represented.
Without putting an end to the illusion, one may leave much unsaid--the
reader or spectator will himself fill this up, and sometimes, owing to
this, his illusion is even increased, but to say what is superfluous is
the same as to overthrow a statue composed of separate pieces and
thereby scatter them, or to take away the lamp from a magic lantern: the
attention of the reader or spectator is distracted, the reader sees the
author, the spectator sees the actor, the illusion disappears, and to
restore it is sometimes impossible; therefore without the feeling of
measure there can not be an artist, and especially a dramatist.
Shakespeare is devoid of this feeling. His characters continually do and
say what is not only unnatural to them, but utterly unnecessary. I do
not cite examples of this, because I believe that he who does not
himself see this striking deficiency in all Shakespeare's dramas will
not be persuaded by any examples and proofs. It is sufficient to read
"King Lear," alone, with its insanity, murders, plucking out of eyes,
Gloucester's jump, its poisonings, and wranglings--not to mention
"Pericles," "Cymbeline," "The Winter's Tale," "The Tempest"--to be
convinced of this. Only a man devoid of the sense of measure and of
taste could produce s
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