The winning of
a battle is not enough to engage all our admiration; it must be won by
an artist. In every department of life this faculty is beginning to be
appreciated as the finest possession of humanity, and Shakespeare was an
almost perfect example of the self-conscious artist.
People talk as if his masterpieces were produced at haphazard or by
unconscious fruition; but masterpieces are not brought forth in this
happy-go-lucky fashion. They are of the sort that only come to
flower with perfect tendance. Even if we did not know that Shakespeare
corrected his finest verses again and again with critical care, we
should have to assume it. But we know that he spared no pains to better
his finer inspirations, and he has told us in a sonnet how anxiously he
thought about his art and the art of his rivals:
"Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope
With what I most enjoy contented least."
He has all the qualities and all the shortcomings of the reflective,
humane, sensuous artist temperament, intensified by the fact that he had
not had the advantage of a middle-class training.
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