No one, I suppose, has ever read or seen Measure for Measure
without experiencing some bewilderment. Even on first
acquaintance, the variety of impressions which the play
generates is disquieting; and graver vexation awaits the resolute
inquirer. Intimations of the play's significance seem to be prof-
fered, and presently denied; a character assumes substance, even
such density as is to be found nowhere else but in Shakespearian
tragedy -- only to surrender it and lapse into two dimensions.
In a great work,' Johnson says, 'there is a vicissitude of luminous
and opaque parts, as there is in the world a succession of day and
night.' Though spoken of Milton, this has a plain bearing on
Shakespeare and the varying tension by which drama accommo-
dates itself to human capacity; but it is part only of a larger propo-
sition: 'In every work one part must be for the sake of others.' ¹
Are the parts of Measure for Measure recognizably co-operative? Do
they not rather appear sometimes to defeat one another's purpose?

If the reader should turn for enlightenment to the critics, his
perplexity would merely be increased. Not only is there diversity
of opinion; there is sharp opposition, so sharp that he must some-
times make an effort to assure himself that they are speaking about
the same play, for the difference is not merely of degree, nor does
there seem to be any hope of reconciliation. What is he to think
when two men of the stature (for example) of R. W. Chambers
and Sir Edmund Chambers stand over against one another, one
maintaining that the significance and temper of Measure for
Measure are explicitly and unquestioningly Christian, the other
that its atmosphere is one of thick darkness, illuminated only by
the lightning that strikes all humanity alike and glances even to-
wards divine providence?

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