Having just finished preparing for, and delivering, a lecture on The Merry Wives of Windsor, and finding myself now in the process of getting ready for one on Twelfth Night, I can see the truth in Auden's observation that it's easier to talk about the less popular plays than it is the acknowledged masterpieces (e.g. the former and latter above, respectively). His point was that it's fun to attempt to prove that the neglected ones shouldn't be, and that they in fact contain a great deal of content deserving serious consideration, whereas it's trickier to find original angles such as these when dealing with the iconic ones. This is a problem, no doubt, but knowing it can only be helpful, because it delineates the task in front of those who try to tackle plays such as King Lear or Twelfth Night. And of course the challenge itself can be a lot of fun, not to mention the astonishing material itself. I'll be writing more on Twelfth Night after my lectures on it, which take place on Tuesday, April 12 at 11 am and Wednesday, April 13 at 7 pm at the Atwater Library. (More information is available via the email address above.)

I've seen it mentioned a few times recently that Shakespeare's couplets, both those at the ends of sonnets and those used to delineate the ends of scenes in the plays (where they were used, the most prevalent theory goes, to prepare the actors in the wings for their entrances), are generally considered to be of a lesser quality than the rest of his writing. If we assume this is so, for the sake of argument, one reason for it, in my opinion, is that Shakespeare seems to have been the type of writer who found it technically more inspiring to write toward something rather than to end something. This would also help to explain the similar decision, albeit on a much larger scale, to write the history plays in the order that he did, i.e. working backwards, essentially, via the use of what we now call prequels. But the best explanation that I've seen is found in W.H. Auden's Lectures on Shakespeare (published in 2000), in which he states, regarding sonnet 65:

"Notice how frequently the concluding couplets of the sonnets are poor. Unlike many of even the greatest artists, Shakespeare is not interested in completely flawless wholes. He says what he wants to say and lets the sonnet end anyhow. But that is the fault of the major artist, for a minor one always completes the work carefully. For instance, when we read Dostoevsky, we feel, yes, this is wonderful, this is marvelous, now go home and write it all over again. And yet if he did, the effect might well be lost. Most of us, however, can't get away with that attitude toward our writing." Here's the poem referred to:

Sonnet LXV

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,

But sad mortality o'er-sways their power,

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,

Whose action is no stronger than a flower?

O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out

Against the wreckful siege of battering days,

When rocks impregnable are not so stout,

Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?

O fearful meditation! where, alack,

Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?

Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?

Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?

O, none, unless this miracle have might,

That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

A fine example of Shakespeare's sophisticated method of exploring moral issues occurs in 5.3 of Macbeth, where the title character recognizes some of the things that his crimes have caused him to lose:

I have lived long enough: my way of life

Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;

And that which should accompany old age,

As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,

I must not look to have; but, in their stead,

Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,

Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

Auden, who had great insight into the play, said in his Lectures on Shakespeare: "Usually in tragedy a good person is made to suffer through a flaw in his goodness. In Macbeth this pattern is reversed: it is the streak of goodness that causes pathos and suffering." And now to return to the larger topic begun a few posts back (the importance of Shakespeare in the high school curriculum), this type of subtlety is exactly what is required when raising philosophical issues with young people. Any attempt at top-down moralizing will (rightly, in my opinion) be met with instant derision, whereas the discovery of moments like the one above, which are only found in the greatest literature, will not.

Why is The Merry Wives of Windsor so disliked? Harold Bloom, a self-described "bardaloter" literally detests the play, referring only to a pseudo-Falstaff in his comments in Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human. W.H. Auden, in his Lectures on Shakespeare, said that the only good thing about the play was that it inspired Verdi's Falstaff, and then played a recording of the opera rather than discuss the matter further. These are not rare opinions, either.

What's going on? I think the answer lies in Falstaff. It is commonly acknowledged that Sir John ran away with the two parts of Henry IV. In fact, he became so popular that Queen Elizabeth, according to legend, requested another play showing him in love. I think at this point Shakespeare may have become somewhat tired of him, and may have felt like the violinist that, told that his violin had a beautiful tone, held it to his ear and said, "I don't hear anything." And so, in this play, a very different side of Falstaff is shown, and he ends up being the butt of the humour, rather than its source. In fact, he isn't the funniest character in the play, for once. There is great and varied humour from a large cast - but it may not be what a Falstaff fan would like or expect. Approaching Shakespeare with assumptions is not a wise plan, though. More on all of this tomorrow.