without a sneer; and that this passage is given by Shakespeare to the blasé sensualist Jaques, a man who, the good and wise Duke says, has been as vile as it is possible for man to be, so vile that it would be an additional sin in him to rebuke sin; a man who never was capable of seeing what is good in any man, and hates men's vices because he hates themselves, seeing in them only the reflex of his own disgust. Shakespeare knew better than to say that all the world is a stage, and all the men and women merely players. He had been a player himself, but only on the stage; Jaques had been a player where he ought to have been a true man. The whole of his account of human life is contradicted and exposed at once by the entrance, the very moment when he had finished his wicked burlesque, of Orlando, the young master, carrying Adam, the old servant, upon his back. The song that immediately follows, sings true: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.' But between the all of Jaques and the most of the song, there is just the difference between earth and hell.—Of course, both from a literary and dramatic point of view, The Seven Ages is perfect. CELIA 6 CHARLES COWDEN-CLARKE (p. 51): The whole of this 'love at first sight' on Celia's part is managed with Shakespeare's masterly skill. I have always felt those three little speeches to be profoundly true to individual nature, where the ladies are questioning Oliver respecting the incident of the lioness and the snake in the forest, and of Orlando's timely succour. Celia exclaims, in amazement, 'Are you his brother?' Rosalind says, 'Was it you he rescued?' And Celia rejoins, Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?' Celia's first exclamation is surprised concern to find that this stranger, who interests her, is that unnatural brother of whom she had heard. Rosalind's thought is of her lover,—Orlando's generosity in rescuing one who has behaved so unnaturally towards himself; while Celia recurs to the difficulty she has in reconciling the image of one who has acted basely and cruelly with him she sees before her who is speedily becoming to her the impersonation of all that is attractive, estimable, and lovable in man. Her affectionate nature cannot persuade itself to believe this villainy of him; she, therefore, incredulously reiterates, 'Was 't You that did so oft contrive to kill him ?' And his reply is a beautiful evidence of the sweetness which beams transparent in her; since it already influences him, by effecting a confirmation of the virtuous resolves to which his brother's generosity has previously given rise, and by causing him to fall as suddenly in love with her as she with him. He says: 'Twas 1; but 'tis not I;-I do not shame It is one of the refined beauties that distinguish Shakespeare's metaphysical philosophy, to show us how a fine nature acting upon an inferior one through the subtle agency of love, operates beneficially to elevate and purify. At one process it proclaims its own excellence, and works amelioration in another. Celia's charm of goodness wins the unkind brother of Orlando (Oliver) to a passionate admiration of herself, at the same time that it excites his emulation to become worthy of her. It begins by teaching him the bravery of a candid avowal of his crime,-the first step towards reformation. Celia's loving-kindness, like all true loving-kindness, hath this twofold virtue and grace: it no less benefits her friends than adorns herself. TOUCHSTONE Hazlitt (p. 308, 1817): Touchstone is not in love, but he will have a mistress as a subject for the exercise of his grotesque humour and to show his contempt for the passion by his indifference about the person. He is a rare fellow. He is a mixture of the ancient cynic philosopher with the modern buffoon, and turns folly into wit, and wit into folly, just as the fit takes him. His courtship of Audrey not only throws a degree of ridicule on the state of wedlock itself, but he is equally an enemy to the prejudices of opinion in other respects. The lofty tone of enthusiasm which the Duke and his companions in exile spread over the stillness and solitude of a country life receives a pleasant shock from Touchstone's sceptical determination of the question in his reply to Corin, III, ii, 14-22. Zimmerman's celebrated work on Solitude discovers only half the sense of this passage. GERMAN CRITICISMS A. W. SCHLEGEL (Lectures on Dramatic Literature, trans. by Black, 1815, vol. ii, p. 172): It would be difficult to bring the contents of As You Like It within the compass of an ordinary relation: nothing takes place, or rather what does take place is not so essential as what is said; even what may be called the dénouement is brought about in a pretty arbitrary manner. Whoever perceives nothing but what is capable of demonstration will hardly be disposed to allow that it has any plan at all. Banishment and flight have assembled together in the Forest of Arden a singular society: a Duke dethroned by his brother, and, with his faithful companions in misfortune, living in the wilds on the produce of the chase; two disguised princesses, who love each other with a sisterly affection; a witty court fol; hastly, the native inhabitants of the forest, ideal and natural shepherds and shepherdesses. These lightly-sketched figures pass along in the most diversified succession; we see always the shady dark-green landscape in the background, and breathe in imagination the fresh air of the forest. The hours are here measured by no clocks, no regulated recurrence of duty or toil; they flow on unnumbered in voluntary occupation or fanciful idleness, to which every one addicts himself according to his humour or dispo sition; and this unlimited freedom compensates all of them for the lost conveniences of life. One throws himself down solitarily under a tree, and indulges in melancholy reflections on the changes of fortune, the falsehood of the world, and the self-created torments of social life; others make the woods resound with social and festive songs to the accompaniment of their horns. Selfishness, envy, and ambition have been left in the city behind them; of all the human passions, love alone has found an entrance into this wilderness, where it dictates the same language to the simple shepherd and the chivalrous youth, who hangs his love-ditty to a tree. A prudish shepherdess falls instantaneously in love with Rosalind, disguised in man's apparel; the latter sharply reproaches her with her severity to her poor lover, and the pain of refusal, which she at length feels from her own experience, disposes her to compassion and requital. The fool carries his philosophical contempt of external show and his raillery of the illusion of love so far, that he purposely seeks out the ugliest and simplest country wench for a mistress. Throughout the whole picture it seems to have been the intention of the poet to show that nothing is wanted to call forth the poetry which has its dwelling in nature and the human mind, but to throw off all artificial constraint and restore both to their native liberty. In the progress of the piece itself the visionary carelessness of such an existence is expressed; it has even been alluded to by Shakespeare in the title. Whoever affects to be displeased that in this romantic forest the ceremonial of dramatic art is not duly observed, ought in justice to be delivered over to the wise fool, for the purpose of being kindly conducted out of it to some prosaical region. GERVINUS (Shakespeare, 4th ed., Leipzig, 1872, i, 494): The sweetest salve in misery, so runs the golden legacy' of the Novel, is patience, and the only medicine for want is contentment. Misfortune is to be defied with equanimity, and our lot be met with resignation. Hence, both the women and Orlando mock at Fortune and disregard her power. All the three principal figures (or, including Oliver, four) have this fate in common, that to all their external misfortunes, to banishment and to poverty, there is added, as a new evil (for so it is regarded): love. Even this they strive to encounter with the same weapons, with control and with moderation, not yielding too much, not seeking too much, with more regard to virtue and nature than to wealth and position, just as Rosalind chooses the inferior (nachgeborenen) Orlando, and just as Oliver chooses the shepherdess Celia. It is in reference to this that the pair of pastoral lovers are brought into contrast: Silvius loves too ardently, while Phebe loves too prudishly. If this moral reflection be expressed in a word, it is Self-control, Equanimity, Serenity in outward sorrow and inward suffering, whereof we here may learn the price. That this thought lies at the core of Shakespeare's comedy is scarcely at the first glance conceivable. So wholly is every reflection eliminated, so completely is there, in the lightest and freest play of the action and of the dialogue, merely a picture sketched out before us. ULRICI (Shakespeare's Dramatic Art, ii, 14, translated by L. Dora Schmitz, London, 1876): The general comic view of life is reflected throughout the whole play, and forms the foundation and platform upon which the action moves..... The motives which set the whole in motion are merely chance, the unintentional encounter of persons and incidents, and the freaks, caprices, and humours, the sentiments, feelings, and emotions, to which the various personages recklessly give way in what they do and leave undone. Nowhere does the representation treat of conscious plans, definite resolves, decided aims and objects; nowhere do we find preconsidered or, in fact, deeper, motives proceeding from the inmost nature of the characters. The characters themselves, even though clearly and correctly delineated, are generally drawn in light, hurried outlines, but are full of life, gay and bold in action, and quick in decision; they appear, as already said, either inconstant, variable, going from one extreme to the other, or possess such a vast amount of imagination, sensitiveness, and love for what is romantic and adventurous that their conduct, to a prosaic mind, can only appear thoughtless, capricious, and arbitrary; and such a mind would be inclined to call them all fools, oddities, and fantastic creatures (in the same way as Sir Oliver Martext, in the play itself, calls the whole company in the forest fantastical knaves.' [A doubtful interpretation.-ED.]) And, in fact, all do exactly what and as they please; each gives him or herself up, in unbridled wilfulness, to good or evil, according to his or her own whims, moods, or impulses, whatever the consequences may prove to be. Each looks upon and turns and shapes life as it pleases him or herself. The Forest of Arden is their stage; with its fresh and free atmosphere, its mysterious chiaroscuro, its idyllic scenery for huntsmen and shepherds, it is, at the same time, the fitting scene for the realisation of a mode and conception of life as is here described. . . . At court, in more complicated relations, in a state of impure feelings and selfish endeavours, [such a life as just described] would lose its poetical halo, its innocence and gayety, and become untruth, hypocrisy, injustice, and violence, as is proved by the reigning Duke, his courtiers, and Oliver de Bois. The point of the piece seems to lie in this contrast; but care had to be taken not to make it too pointed, not to make it a serious moral conflict. .... Shakespeare's intention--that is, the sense in which he conceived Lodge's narrative and transformed it into a drama, which, as I think, is clearly enough manifested in the spirit and character of the whole, as well as reflected in the several points-is concentrated, and, so to say, condensed in the sec ond and more personal contrast in which the two fools of the piece stand to one another. They, and the unimportant figure of the shepherdess whom Touchstone chooses as his sweetheart, are the only persons whom Shakespeare did not find in Lodge's narrative, but freely invented. This addition, however, is in so far of great importance, as it alone gives the original subject-matter a different character and colouring, and, so to say, forms the ideal norm, which determines the other alterations introduced by Shakespeare. The two fools, by virtue of the contrast in which they stand to each other, mutually complete each other. The melancholy Jaques is not the fool by profession; he appears rather to be a comic character par excellence; but his meditative superficiality, his witty sentimentality, his merry sadness have taken so complete a hold of his nature, that it seems to contradict itself, and, therefore, upon a closer examination, distinctly bears the impress of folly, although it certainly is an original kind of folly. (P. 20): He, Touchstone, the professed Fool, may frankly be declared the most rational person of the whole curious company, for he alone invariably knows his own mind; in regarding everything as sheer folly, he, at the same time, takes it up in the humour in which it must be understood. F. KREYSSIG (Vorlesungen, &c., vol. iii, p. 237, Berlin, 1862): Shakespeare took for the subject of his drama the Pastoral Romance of Lodge, whereof the ruling idea is the contrast between the over-refined worn-out state of society and health-giving freshness of Nature. In the drama, however, both sides of the picture stand out clear and contrasted, and vague dissolving portraiture rises to plastic dramatic representation. [In III, i, where Oliver tells the usurping Duke that he never lov'd Orlando, and the Duke answers, 'More villain thou.-Well, push him out of doors,' &c., Kreyssig exclaims, 'What a significant contribution to the Natural History of political tyranny is contained in this answer of the Duke?' and then adds:] Just as the earnest gravity of the dramatic action is here directed against moral principles, so, the whole piece through, the arrows of wit are aimed at the follies and weaknesses of the world of rank and fashion, the target for the merriment of the fool as well as for the acrid sarcasm of the misanthrope; and, if without bitterness, at least one and all of the healthier natures there turn their backs on it. (P. 242): And on this dark background of life [i. e. all Touchstone's descriptions of court manners] which the Poet has drawn, not in lackadaisical whinings and taffeta phrases, but with the vigorous colours of reality, he has painted a picture of a simple, natural mode of life as bright and fresh as ever quickened the weary soul of a worn-out citizen at the very first breath of the woods and the mountains. Through these scenes, in praise of which all lovers of Shakespeare unite, is wafted the refresh ing earthy smell of the woods and the vivifying breeze from the mountains. Like the outlaws of the popular ballad, like Robin Hood and his comrades, the exiled Duke and his faithful friends forget under the boughs of the Forest of Ardennes loss and vexation, envy and ambition, with care and sorrow in their train. (P. 243): For vigorous natures, temporarily out of tune, the Poet offers a wholesome medicine throughout this airy romantic life, which, however, is not to be regarded as the sentimental ideal of a normal condition which has been overwhelmed and lost in society. What the shepherds and shepherdesses in conventional pastoral poetry really are (without intending to appear so), namely, fugitives from a false social condition enjoying for a while a sort of masquerade and picnic freedom-in place of such, Shakespeare gives us honest and true his romantic dwellers in the Forest of Ardennes. And this is the very reason why he catches the genuine tone of this careless, free, natural existence, which in the case of the ideal shepherds of the Spaniards, French, or Italians is cabined and confined by merely another form of artificial intercourse. [After having described the effect of the last words of Jaques: 'out of these convertites there is much matter to be heard and learned,' and how with these words the supersubtle, travelling man of the world takes a fresh comfortless start for new studies in his barren knowledge,' Kreyssig goes on to say:] (P 250): Thus here in a romantic Arcadia, the law of life prevailing in a well-ordered moral condition of society maintains its sacred rights. And while the genius of the British Poet, conscious of its aim, rises high above the conventional forms of the South which it had borrowed, many of the scenes of this comedy are transformed into a diverting parody of the sentimentalism of pastoral poetry. GEORGE SAND'S COMME IL VOUS PLAIRA GEORGE SAND's adaptation, Comme il vous plaira, is another illustration of the impossibility of transplanting As You Like It; it takes even less kindly to French than to German soil. By way of Preface to her adaptation George Sand gives a letter which she wrote to Régnier, explaining her aims. From the tone of this letter, so outspoken and enthusiastic in its admiration of Shakespeare, it is easy to see that wherein George Sand does not follow her original, it is through no lack of reverence, but that in all sincerity she endeavoured to adapt her version to the usages of her own country, or rather (to be more correct) to the fashion of the hour. Whilst Shake'speare,' she says (I quote Lady Monson's translation), ‘abandoned himself to the 'passionate transports or the delicious caprices of his inspiration, he trod under foot, along with the rules of composition, certain requirements which the mind legiti mately demands-order, sobriety, the harmonies of action, and logic. But he was Shakespeare; therefore, he did well if such ebullitions were necessary to the pour'ing out of the most vast and vigorous genius that ever pervaded a theatre.' It is the contrasts in Shakespeare, the high lights and deep shades, it seems, which, to a mind educated in the inflexible laws of the French drama, prove almost insurmountable barriers to a due appreciation of Shakespeare. By a strange inconsistency,' she says in another place,' which appears incomprehensible, he placed the most divine grace and 'chastity side by side with the most startling cynicism; the gentleness of the angel by |