The Critics Versus Shakspere: A Brief for the Defendant

In Short

This work functions as a legalistic brief for the defense, responding to specific 19th- and early 20th-century scholars who argued that the Bard was a "hack" who merely copied the fashions and tropes of his contemporaries. By meticulously cross-referencing chronological data, historical records, and internal textual evidence, the author exposes the inconsistencies in these scholarly attacks. It is a passionate, erudite defense of genius, designed to restore the playwright to his rightful place as an original creator rather than a follower of trends.

The Story

The narrative begins with the premise that the authorship and nature of the Bard’s works have been the most debated case in historical criticism. The author presents himself as "counsel" for the defense, tasked with refuting modern academics—specifically Professor Barrett Wendell and his pupil, Professor Thorndike—who claim that the playwright was a sluggish, imitative writer who merely polished the "popular things" done first by others like Marlowe, Greene, or Beaumont and Fletcher.

The argument proceeds by scrutinizing the claim that the playwright was a "dramatic hack" who spent his early years revamping the works of others. The author systematically breaks down the "digital criticism" of Edmund Malone, who once attempted to prove that the playwright stole thousands of lines for his historical dramas. The author demonstrates that the reverse is often true: the Bard’s contemporaries frequently borrowed from him. He utilizes the Stationer’s Registers and early publication dates to prove that the playwright was, in fact, the originator of the material in the "Contention" plays, which later critics erroneously attributed to others or labeled as mere collaborative reworkings.

As the argument deepens, the focus shifts to the "romance" genre. The author takes on the theory that the late plays—such as Cymbeline, The Tempest, and The Winter’s Tale—were desperate, late-career imitations of the success Beaumont and Fletcher found with their "heroic romances." By analyzing the inconsistent dating of Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays, the author reveals that the critics are building their case on speculation rather than fact. He points out that while scholars have no firm production dates for the works of Beaumont and Fletcher, they confidently assert—without evidence—that these works preceded the Bard’s own, thereby framing his work as a derivative "echo."

The concluding arc of the book is a forceful synthesis of the evidence. The author argues that the critics’ definitions of "imitation" are hypocritical, noting how they allow for the "masterful" borrowing of a poet like Milton while condemning the same practice in the Bard. The author ultimately rests his case by juxtaposing the shallow, conventional "types" found in the plays of the imitators against the vibrant, living, and unique characters created by the Bard. The book ends not with a plea for mercy, but with an affirmation of the playwright’s "sovereign" status, using the enduring words of Matthew Arnold to declare that the artist remains "self-school'd, self-scann'd, self-honour'd, self-secure," forever beyond the reach of those who would try to define his genius as a mere collection of stolen parts.

How It Unfolds

The opening plea The author frames the literary debate as a perpetual courtroom drama where the defendant has been repeatedly cleared of wrongdoing by history. He establishes the goal: to debunk modern academics who characterize the playwright as a follower of fashion.

The anatomy of a fallacy The text deconstructs specific claims by Professor Wendell, showing how he ignores the historical context of the Elizabethan stage. The author demonstrates that the playwright’s contemporaries never accused him of plagiarism during his lifetime.

The chronology of the "Contention" The focus moves to the historical plays, providing a timeline of publication to show that the Bard was the source, not the borrower, of the material. This beat uses business records to prove that he held the original claim to these stories.

The romance controversy The argument examines the late plays, systematically dismantling the theory that they were attempts to mimic the success of Beaumont and Fletcher. The author highlights the lack of verifiable dates for the "competitors" and exposes the bias inherent in the critics' definitions.

The final summation The book concludes by contrasting the playwright’s complex, individual characters with the "types" found in the works of his detractors. It offers a final, eloquent tribute to the enduring autonomy of the artist.

The People

The Defendant (The Bard): The central figure, presented as a sovereign genius who is "self-school'd." He is depicted as a man who held a mirror up to nature, creating individuals rather than the conventional "types" favored by lesser writers.

Professor Barrett Wendell: The primary antagonist of the argument. He is depicted as an overly confident academic who relies on "hasty reviews" and unsupported theories to claim that the Bard was a sluggish, unoriginal hack-writer.

Professor Thorndike: A follower of Wendell who attempts to prove that the Bard was influenced by Beaumont and Fletcher. The author portrays him as logically inconsistent, noting that he ignores his own evidence when it contradicts his desire to prove a "probability" of imitation.

Edmund Malone: An 18th-century scholar whose "digital criticism" attempted to carve up the history plays into stolen versus original lines. He serves as a cautionary example of how rigid, uncritical analysis can lead to an absurd conclusion that the author was an "unblushing plagiarist."

Beaumont and Fletcher: Cited as the writers who actually engaged in imitation. While their plays are used by critics as the "original" models, the author portrays them as writers who frequently parodied or borrowed from the Bard, often unsuccessfully, to capture the magic of his work.

In Its Own Voice

"During the seventeenth century, English criticism sought to put Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Otway, Wycherly, Congreve, Cowley, Dryden, and even the madman Lee, above Shakspere."

The author illustrates that the trend of disparaging the Bard is a historical cycle, not a modern invention.

"The better one knows his surroundings, the more clearly one begins to perceive that his chief peculiarity, when compared with his contemporaries, was a somewhat sluggish avoidance of needless invention."

The author quotes Professor Wendell’s own words to expose the dismissive tone used by the critics he is refuting.

"To us, after all this latest effort to depose the sovereign of English literature from the throne where he has worn the crown for more than three centuries, and seat there a pretender, having no title, either by divine right or the suffrages of mankind, Shakspere is the sovereign still."

The author makes his own position clear, declaring the Bard’s literary authority to be untouched by modern academic critique.

What It's Really About

The book is an inquiry into the nature of originality and the dangers of academic bias. It explores why critics are often tempted to "discover" that a great artist is actually a fraud, suggesting that such theories say more about the critic's desire for intellectual novelty than about the art itself. The core argument is that true genius does not follow trends; it establishes them. By examining the mechanics of characterization and the historical record of the Elizabethan stage, the book asks whether greatness is something that can be explained away through "digital" dissection, or if it remains something essentially "self-secure" and beyond the reach of those who only look for flaws in the seams.

Why Read It Today

This work is essential for anyone who enjoys literary history and wants to see a masterclass in how to dismantle a bad argument. It is a polemic, written with the sharp, biting wit of a lawyer who is tired of hearing the same disproven claims repeated by academics. You will love it if you have ever been frustrated by dry, overly technical literary criticism that misses the "human" heart of a great work.

The reading experience is intense and deeply researched; the author does not shy away from the weeds of history, providing pages of dates, records, and citations. However, the tone remains warm and deeply appreciative of the poetry. Readers should be prepared for the dense, period-appropriate prose and the frequent references to minor Elizabethan dramatists, which can be challenging to keep straight. The book carries the weight of a century-old debate, but its core theme—that we should trust our own experience with a great author rather than letting the latest academic fad dictate our opinion—feels surprisingly modern. What stays with you is the author's unwavering conviction that the Bard’s works are not a puzzle to be solved by counting lines, but a living, breathing testament to human nature that remains, as Matthew Arnold put it, "out-topping knowledge."