tes sits with Caliban high among
Shakespeare's minor triumphs. He was brought in to please the mob. He is
the Fool of the piece, fulfilling the functions of Touchstone, and
Launce, and Launcelot, and Costard. As the gravediggers were brought
into "Hamlet" for the sake of the groundlings, so Thersites came into
"Troilus and Cressida." As if that he might leave no form of human
utterance ungilded by his genius, Shakespeare in Thersites has given us
the apotheosis of blackguardism and billingsgate. Thersites is only a
railing rascal. Some low creatures are mere bellies with no brain.
Thersites is merely mouth, but this mouth has just enough coarse brain
above it to know a wise man and a fool when he sees them. But the
railings of this deformed slave are splendid. Thersites is almost as
good as Falstaff. He is of course a far lower organization
intellectually, and somewhat lower, perhaps, morally. He is coarser in
every way; his humor, such as he has, is of the grossest kind; but still
his blackguardism is the ideal of vituperation. He is far better than
Apemantus in "Timon of Athens," for there is no hypocrisy in him, no
egoism, and, comfortable trait in such a personage, no pretence of
gentility. For good downright "sass" in its most splendid and aggressive
form, there is in literature nothing equal to the speeches of Thersites.

"Troilus and Cressida" is also remarkable for its wide range of style,
because of which it is a play of great interest to the student of
Shakespeare, who here adapted his style to the character of the matter
in hand. The lighter parts remind us of his earlier manner; the graver
are altogether in his later. He did this unconsciously, or almost
unconsciously, we may be sure. None the less, however, is the play
therefore valuable in a critical point of view, but rather the more so.
It is a standing and an undeniable warning to us not to lean too much
upon any one special trait of style in estimating the time in
Shakespeare's life at which a play was produced. Moreover it illustrates
the natural course of style development, showing that it is not only
gradual, but not by regular degrees; that is, that a writer does not
pass at one period absolutely from one style to another, dropping his
previous manner and taking on another, but that he will at one time
unconsciously recur to his former manner or manners, and at a late
period show traces of his early manner. Strata of his old fashion thrust
themselv