The Kingsway Shakespeare

During my more leisurely stays at mum and dad's, there usually comes a time when I take their handsome copy of the Complete Works of Shakespeare off the shelf to read up on whichever play I'm currently obsessed with (this time it was Julius Caesar).

It's the Kingsway Shakespeare, published by Harrap in 1927. Frederick D. Losey, M.A., supplies a brief, pithy preface to each play. He is usually good reading in a bad-tempered sort of way. If he disapproves of the play in question, he berates Shakespeare for having written it. If he approves of the play, he deplores the idiotic things that other people have said about it. He is moralistic, judgmental and untroubled by doubt. But the directness of his response to Shakespeare often throws up interesting ideas.

Losey's prefaces were originally written for an American edition of Shakespeare's works, published in 1926 by the John C. Winston company. He was a native of New York, born in 1868 in Conesus. His Alma Mater was the University of Rochester, NY. He was an educator, an active and popular public lecturer and also gave public readings of Shakespeare.

Here's a 1914 lecture by him about the role of the scholar in American public life:
https://www.jstor.org/stable/42913491?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents

At this time he was Professor of Rhetoric at the University of Alabama. A Mrs Frederick D. Losey was involved in the movement for women's suffrage in Alabama around the same time; presumably this was his wife.

The other added attraction of the Kingsway Shakespeare (leaving aside its principal author!) is the fourteen illustrations, by various eminent artists of the time. I think these pictures, remembered from my childhood, must have been quite influential on how I conceive some of Shakespeare's plays. Towards the end of last week's visit I hastily took some snaps, so here they are. (A couple are quite blurred, unfortunately.)

The pictures can't have been commissioned specially for this edition, since some of the artists were dead by 1927. All the artists lived and worked in London, even if they were born elsewhere. That well-trodden career path was also, of course, Shakespeare's own.

The Merry Wives of Windsor, III.3.149. Illustration by W.H. Margetson

FALSTAFF.  "I love thee : help me away : let me creep in here."


Falstaff clambering awkwardly into the laundry basket. But what really takes the eye is Mistress Page's smile.

William Henry Margetson (1861 - 1940) was a Londoner, famed for the beautiful be-hatted women in his paintings (Wikipedia).

Love's Labour's Lost, V.2.383. Illustration by Isobel L. Cloag (error for Gloag)

BEROWNE. "O ! I am yours, and all that I possess."
ROSALINE. "All the fool mine?"


My favourite of all the pictures here, perfectly catching the paradoxical combination of freshness and artificiality in Love's Labour's Lost.

Isobel Lilian Gloag (1865 - 1917), born in London; her parents came from Perthshire (Wikipedia).

The Merchant of Venice, IV.1.234. Illustration by J. Walter West

PORTIA. "Bid me tear the bond."


Portia as angel, or as inquisitor? Shylock is almost turned away from us, but not enough to hide his hooked nose, that depressing cliché of antisemitic myth.

Joseph Walter West (1860 - 1933), grew up in E. Yorkshire and later lived in and around London (Biography).

All's Well That Ends Well, I.1.62. Illustration by Dudley Hardy.

HELENA. "I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too."


Another essence-capturing image, the very non-pregnant Helena in the midst of this Beardsley-style mourning group.

Dudley Hardy (1867 - 1922) was born in Sheffield and later lived in London (Wikipedia).

The Winter's Tale, III.3.121. Illustration by Eleanor F. Brickdale

SHEPHERD. "So, let's see. It was told me I should be rich by the fairies."


The cusp of The Winter's Tale, the moment when its tragic mood begins to be transformed into romance. The coast of Bohemia being imagined as the North Sea in its dourest mood.


Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale (1872 - 1945) was born in Surrey and lived in London (Wikipedia).

King John, IV.1.73. Illustration by W.H. Margetson.

ARTHUR. "O ! save me, Hubert, save me !"


Prince Arthur, Hubert and a very sinister glow.

Henry IV Part 2, III.2.144. Illustration by Arthur Rackham.

FALSTAFF. "Shadow will serve for summer ; prick him."


Falstaff again, in one of the great scenes from the sourly brilliant sequel.

Arthur Rackham (1867 - 1939), the most famous illustrator of his time, born in Lewisham, lived in London, W. Sussex and Surrey (Wikipedia).

Henry VIII, III.1.12. Illustration by F.C. Cowper.

SONG. "In sweet music is such art,
               Killing care and grief of heart."


From a scene now generally agreed to be Fletcher's. It's a lovely song though. Sullivan set it to music, so did Vaughan Williams.

Frank Cadogan Cowper (1877 - 1958), born in Northamptonshire, lived in London (Wikipedia).

Romeo and Juliet, III.5.42. Illustration by Sir Frank Dicksee.

ROMEO. "Farewell, farewell ! one kiss, and I'll descend."


A pretty sexy picture of Juliet clasping Romeo at full extent.

Sir Francis Bernard Dicksee (1853 - 1928). A Londoner, celebrated for historical scenes as well as portraits of fashionable women (Wikipedia).

Macbeth, IV.1.64. Illustration by Arthur Rackham.

FIRST WITCH. "Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
                            Her nine farrow."

Macbeth's moment of deceptive truth. The witches' recipe was the first Shakespearean poetry that haunted my childhood imagination.

King Lear, V.3.271. Illustration by Solomon J. Solomon.

LEAR. "Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha
              What is't thou say'st?"


Lear's cruelly protracted agony. Cordelia almost standing, as if she might indeed still be alive. In the background lies the body of Goneril, or Regan, face covered.

Solomon Joseph Solomon (1860 - 1927), born and lived in London. One of the few Jewish members of the RA. Also a pioneer of camouflage during WW1 (Wikipedia).

Othello, II.1.1. Illustration by Frank Brangwyn.

MONTANO. "What from the cape can you discern at sea ?"


Frank Brangwyn, I feel, is the best artist on show here, though maybe not the best illustrator. His sun-striped Cyprus is tense and strangely static. Something terrible is indeed on its way, but it isn't the Turkish invasion.

 Sir Frank William Brangwyn (1867 - 1956) was born in Bruges to Welsh parents; lived and worked in London. Estimated to have produced over 12,000 works (Wikipedia).

Antony and Cleopatra, III.9.49. Illustration by J.H.F. Bacon.

ANTONY. "I have offended reputation,
                    A most unnoble swerving."


After Antony's wretched self-humiliation at Actium. (nb. This is Act III Scene 11 in most editions.)

John Henry Frederick Bacon (1865 - 1914), another Londoner (Wikipedia).

Sonnet 102. Illustration by Frank Brangwyn. 

"Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays."


Brangwyn opts for a rather Italian-looking springtime: and, of course, blithely heteronormalizes those troublesome sonnets.


My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming,
The owner's tongue doth publish every where.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
   Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue:
   Because I would not dull you with my song.

These notes on Shakespeare: Full list