An Essay Toward a History of Shakespeare in Norway by Martin Brown Ruud (the lemonade war series .TXT) 📖

more in his later works

to give an easier more unconstrained movement."

 

Occasionally a syllable is lacking, and the foot seems to halt as in

V, 1-17:

 

  As far as Belmont. In such a night, etc.

 

Here a syllable is lacking in the third foot. But artistically this is

no defect. We cannot ask that Jessica and Lorenzo always have the right

word at hand. The defective line simply means a pause and, therefore,

instead of being a blemish, is exactly right.

 

On the other hand, there is often an extra light syllable before the

caesura. (I, 1-48):

 

  Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy, etc.

 

This extra syllable before the pause gives the effect of a slight

retardation. It was another device to make the verse easy and

unconstrained.

 

Though the prevailing verse is iambic pentameter, we rarely find

more than three or four real accents. The iambic movement is constantly

broken and compelled to fight its way through. This gives an added

delight, since the ear, attuned to the iambic beat, readily recognizes

it when it recurs. The presence of a trochee is no blemish, but a

relief:

 

  Vailing her high tops higher than her ribs. (I, 1-28)

 

This inverted stress occurs frequently in Norwegian poetry. Wergeland

was a master of it and used it with great effect, for instance, in his

poem to Ludvig Daa beginning:

 

  Med døden i mit hjerte,

  og smilet om min mund,--

 

All this gives to Shakespeare's verse a marvellous flexibility and

power. Nor are these devices all that the poet had at his disposal. We

frequently find three syllables to the foot, giving the line a certain

fluidity which a translator only rarely can reproduce. Finally, a

further difficulty in translating Shakespeare lies in the richness of

the English language in words of one syllable. What literature can rival

the grace and smoothness of:

 

  In sooth I know not why I am so sad.

 

Ten monosyllables in succession! It is enough to drive a translator to

despair. Or take:

 

  To be or not to be, that is the question.

 

To summarize, no other language can rival English in dramatic dialogue

in verse, and this is notably true of Shakespeare's English, where the

word order is frequently simpler and more elastic than it is in modern

English.

 

Two reviews of Collin quickly appeared in a pedagogical magazine, _Den

Höiere Skole_. The first of them,[26] by Ivar Alnæs, is a brief, rather

perfunctory review. He points out that _The Merchant of Venice_ is

especially adapted to reading in the gymnasium, for it is unified in

structure, the characters are clearly presented, the language is not

difficult, and the picture is worth while historically. Collin has,

therefore, done a great service in making the play available for

teaching purposes. Alnæs warmly praises the introduction; it is

clear, full, interesting, and marked throughout by a tone of genuine

appreciation. But right here lies its weakness. It is not always easy

to distinguish ascertained facts from Collin's imaginative combinations.

Every page, however, gives evidence of the editor's endeavor to give to

the student fresh, stimulating impressions, and new, revealing points of

view. This is a great merit and throws a cloak over many eccentricities

of language.

 

    [26. Vol. 5 (1903), pp. 51 ff.]

 

But Collin was not to escape so easily. In the same volume Dr.

August Western[27] wrote a severe criticism of Collin's treatment

of Shakespeare's versification.

 

    [27. _Ibid._ pp. 142 ff.]

 

He agrees, as a matter of course, that Shakespeare is a master of

versification, but he does not believe that Collin has proved it. That

blank verse is the natural speech of the chief characters or of the

minor characters under emotional stress, that prose is _usually_ used by

minor characters or by important characters under no emotional strain

is, in Dr. Western's opinion, all wrong. Nor is prose per se more

restful than poetry. And is not Shylock more emotional in his scene

(I, 3) than any of the characters in the casket scene immediately

following (II, 1)? According to Collin, then, I, 3 should be in verse

and II, 1 in prose! Equally absurd is the theory that Shakespeare's

characters speak in verse because their natures demand it. Does Shylock

go contrary to nature in III, 1? There is no psychological reason for

Verse in Shakespeare. He wrote as he did because convention prescribed

The same is true of Goethe and Schiller, of Bjørnson and Ibsen in

their earlier plays. Shakespeare's lapses into prose are, moreover, easy

to explain. There must always be something to amuse the gallery. Act

III, 1 must be so understood, for though Shakespeare was undoubtedly

moved, the effect of the scene was comic. The same is true of the

dialogue between Portia and Nerissa in Act I, and of all the scenes

in which Launcelot Gobbo appears.

 

Western admits, however, that much of the prose in Shakespeare cannot

be so explained; for example, the opening scenes in _Lear_ and _The

Tempest_. And this brings up another point, i.e., Collin's supposition

that Shakespeare's texts as we have them are exactly as he wrote them.

When the line halts, Collin simply finds proof of the poet's fine ear!

The truth probably is that Shakespeare had a good ear and that he always

wrote good lines, but that he took no pains to see that these lines were

correctly printed. Take, for example, such a line as:

 

  As far as Belmont.

      In such a night

 

This would, if written by anyone else, always be considered bad, and Dr.

Western does not believe that Collin's theory of the pauses will hold.

The pause plays no part in verse. A line consists of a fixed number

of _heard_ syllables. Collin would say that a line like I, 1-73:

 

  I will not fail you,

 

is filled out with a bow and a swinging of the hat. Then why are the

lines just before it, in which Salarino and Salario take leave of each

other, not defective? Indeed, how can we be sure that much of what

passes for "Shakespeare's versification" is not based on printers'

errors? In the folio of 1623 there are long passages printed in prose

which, after closer study, we must believe were written in verse--the

opening of _Lear_ and _The Tempest_. Often, too, it is plain that

the beginnings and endings of lines have been run together. Take the

passage:

 

  _Sal_:

  Why, then you are in love.

 

  _Ant_:

      Fie, fie!

 

  _Sal_:

  Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad--

 

The first line is one foot short, the second one foot too long. This

Collin would call a stroke of genius; each _fie_ is a complete foot,

and the line is complete! But what if the line were printed thus:

 

  _Sal_:

  Why, then you are in love.

 

  _Ant_:

      Fie, fie!

 

  _Sal_:

          Not in

  Love neither? Then let us say you are sad.

 

or possibly:

 

  Love neither? Then let's say that you are sad.

 

Another possible printer's error is found in I, 3-116:

 

  With bated breath and whispering humbleness

  Say this;

  Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last.

 

Are we here to imagine a pause of four feet? And what are we to do with

the first folio which has

 

  Say this; Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last.

 

all in one line? Perhaps some printer chose between the two. At any

rate, Collin's theory will not hold. In the schools, of course, one

cannot be a text critic but, on the other hand, one must not praise in

Shakespeare what may be the tricks of the printer's devil. The text is

not always faultless.

 

Finally, Dr. Western objects to the statement that the difficulty in

translating Shakespeare lies in the great number of monosyllables and

gives

 

  In sooth, I know not why I am so sad

 

as proof. Ten monosyllables in one line! But this is not impossible in

Norwegian:

 

  For sand, jeg ved ei, hvi jeg er saa trist--

 

It is not easy to translate Shakespeare, but the difficulty goes deeper

than his richness in words of one syllable.

 

With the greater part of Dr. Western's article everyone will agree. It

is doubtful if any case could be made out for the division of prose and

verse based on psychology. Shakespeare probably wrote his plays in verse

for the same reason that Goethe and Schiller and Oehlenschläger did. It

was the fashion. And how difficult it is to break with fashion or with

old tradition, the history of Ibsen's transition from poetry to prose

shows. It is equally certain that in Collin's _Introduction_ it is

difficult to distinguish ascertained facts from brilliant speculation.

But it is not easy to agree with Dr. Western that Collin's explanation

of the "pause" is a tissue of fancy.

 

In the first place, no one denies that the printers have at times

played havoc with Shakespeare's text. Van Dam and Stoffel, to whose book

Western refers and whose suggestions are directly responsible for this

article, have shown this clearly enough. But when Dr. Western argues

that because printers have corrupted the text in some places, they must

be held accountable for every defective short line, we answer, it does

not follow. In the second place, why should not a pause play a part in

prosody as well as in music? Recall Tennyson's verse:

 

      Break, break, break,

  On thy cold, grey stones, o sea!

 

where no one feels that the first line is defective. Of course the

answer is that in Tennyson no accented syllable is lacking. But it is

difficult to understand what difference this makes. When the reader has

finished pronouncing _Belmont_ there _must_ be a moment's hesitation

before Lorenzo breaks in with:

 

  In such a night

 

and this pause may have metrical value. The only judge of verse, after

all, is the hearer, and, in my opinion, Collin is right when he points

out the value of the slight metrical pause between the bits of repartee.

Whether Shakespeare counted the syllables beforehand or not, is another

matter. In the third place, Collin did not quote in support of his

theory the preposterous lines which Dr. Western uses against him. Collin

does quote I, 1-5:

 

  I am to learn.

 

and I, 1-73:

 

  I will not fail you

 

is a close parallel, but Collin probably would not insist that his

theory accounts for every case. As to Dr. Western's other example of

good meter spoiled by corrupt texts, Collin would, no doubt, admit

the possibility of the proposed emendations. It would not alter his

contention that a pause in the line, like a pause in music, is not

necessarily void, but may be very significant indeed.

 

The array of Shakespearean critics in Norway, as we said at the

beginning, is not imposing. Nor are their contributions important.

But they show, at least, a sound acquaintance with Shakespeare and

Shakespeareana, and some of them, like the articles of Just Bing,

Brettville Jensen, Christen Collin, and August Western, are interesting

and illuminating. Bjørnson's article in _Aftenbladet_ is not merely

suggestive as Shakespearean criticism, but it throws valuable light

on Bjørnson himself and his literary development. When we come to the

dramatic criticism of Shakespeare's plays, we shall find renewed

evidence of a wide and intelligent knowledge of Shakespeare in Norway.

 

CHAPTER III (Performances Of Shakespeare's Plays In Norway)

 

_Christiania_

 

 

The first public theater in Christiania was opened by the Swedish

actor, Johan Peter Strömberg, on January 30, 1827, but no Shakespeare

production was put on during his short and troubled administration.

Not quite two years later this strictly private undertaking became a

semi-public one under the immediate direction of J.K. Böcher, and at

the close of the season 1829-30, Böcher gave by way of epilogue to

the year, two performances including scenes from Holberg's _Melampe_,

Shakespeare's _Hamlet_, and Oehlenschläger's _Aladdin_. The Danish actor

Berg played Hamlet, but we have no further details of the performance.

We may be sure, however, that of the two translations available, Boye's

and Foersom's, the latter was used. _Hamlet_, or a part of it, was thus

given for the first time in Norway nearly seventeen years after Foersom

himself had brought it upon the stage in Denmark.[1]

 

    [1. Blanc: