Chapter IX (1)

PERIOD OF SHAKSPEARE'S COMMENCEMENT AS A DRAMATIC POET—
CHRONOLOGICAL ARRANGEMENT OF HIS GENUINE PLAYS—OBSERVATIONS
ON _PERICLES_; ON THE _COMEDY OF ERRORS_; ON _LOVE'S LABOUR'S
LOST_; ON _HENRY THE SIXTH, PART THE FIRST_; ON _HENRY THE
SIXTH, PART THE SECOND_, AND ON _A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM_—
DISSERTATION ON THE FAIRY MYTHOLOGY, AND ON THE MODIFICATIONS
WHICH IT RECEIVED FROM THE GENIUS OF SHAKSPEARE.

We have, in a former portion of this work[256:A], assigned our reasons for concluding that, on Shakspeare's arrival in London, about the year 1586 or 1587, his _immediate_ employment was that of an actor; and we now proceed to consider the much agitated question as to the era of his _first_ attempts in _dramatic_ poetry. That this was subsequent to the production of his _Venus and Adonis_, we possess his own authority, when he informs us that the poem just mentioned was _the first heir of his invention_; and though we enjoy no testimony of a like kind, or emanating from a similar source, as to the period of his earliest effort in dramatic literature, yet, if we be correct in referring the composition of his Venus and Adonis to the interval elapsing between the years 1587 and 1590[256:B], the epoch of his _first play_ cannot, with any probability, be placed either much anterior or subsequent to the year 1590. That it occurred _not_ before this date, may be presumed from recollecting, that, in the first place, the _prosecution_ of his amatory poem and the _acquirement_ of his profession as an actor, might be sufficient to occupy an interval of two years; and, in the second place, that no contemporary previous to 1592, neither Webbe in 1586[256:C], nor Puttenham in 1589[256:D], nor Harrington in February, 1591[257:A], has noticed or even alluded to any theatrical production of our author.

That it took place, either in 1590, or very soon after that year, must be inferred both from tradition, and from written testimony. Aubrey tells us, from the former source, that "he began _early_ to _make essays in dramatique poetry_, which at that time was very lowe, and his plays took well[257:B];" and from the nature and extent of the allusions in the following passage from Robert Greene's _Groatsworth of Witte bought with a Million of Repentance_, there can be no doubt that, not only one play, but that several had been written and prepared for the stage by our poet, anterior to September, 1592.

It appears that this tract of Greene's was completed a very short time previous to his death, which happened on the third of the month of the year just mentioned, and that Henry Chettle, "upon whose _perill_"[257:C] it had been entered in the Stationers' register on September the 20th, 1592, became editor and publisher of it before the ensuing December.[257:D]

Greene had been the intimate associate of _Marlowe_, _Lodge_, and _Peele,_ and he concludes his _Groatsworth of Witte_ with an address to these bards, the object of which is, to dissuade them from any further reliance on the stage for support, and to warn them against the ingratitude and selfishness of players: "trust them not;" he exclaims, "for there is an _upstart crowe BEAUTIFIED WITH OUR FEATHERS_, that with his _tygres heart wrapt in a player's hide_, supposes hee is as well able to bombaste out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute JOHANNES FAC-TOTUM, is in his own conceit the only SHAKE-SCENE in a countrey."[257:E]

To Mr. Tyrwhit we are indebted for the first application of this passage to Shakspeare, who, as might naturally be expected, feeling himself hurt at Greene's unmerited sarcasm, clearly pointing to him by the designation of _the only Shake-scene in a country_, and not well pleased with Chettle's officious publication of it, expressed his sentiments so openly as to draw forth from the repentant editor, about three months after his edition of the Groatsworth of Witte, an apology, which adds further weight to the inferences which we wish to deduce from the language of Greene. In this interesting little pamphlet which, under the title of _Kind Harts Dreame_, we have had occasion to quote more at large in an earlier part of the volume[258:A], the author, after slightly noticing Marlowe, one of the offended parties, and speaking highly of the demeanour, professional ability, and moral integrity of Shakspeare, closes the sentence and the eulogium by mentioning "HIS FACETIOUS GRACE OF WRITING, THAT APPROVES HIS ART."

From these passages in Greene and Chettle, combined with the traditionary relation of Aubrey, we may legitimately infer, first, that _he had written for the stage before the year 1592_; secondly, that _he had written during this period with considerable success_, for Aubrey tells us, that _his plays took well_, and Chettle that his _grace in writing approved his art_; thirdly, that _he had written both tragedy and comedy_, Greene reporting, that he was _well able to bombast out a blank verse_, and Chettle speaking of his "_facetious_ grace in writing;" fourthly, that _he had altered and brought on the stage some of the separate or joint productions of Marlowe, Greene, Lodge, and Peele_; the words of Greene, where he terms Shakspeare a "_crowe beautified with OUR feathers, that with his tygres heart wrapt in a player's hide, supposes_," &c. implying, not only that he had furtively acquired fame by appropriating their productions, but referring to a particular play, through the medium of quotation, as a proof of the assertion, the words _tygres heart wrapt in a player's hide_ being a parody of a line in the _Third Part of King Henry the Sixth_: or what we, for reasons which will be speedily assigned, have thought proper to call the _Second Part_,—

"O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide;"[259:A]

fifthly, _that he had already excited, as the usual consequence of success, no small degree of jealousy and envy_; hence Greene has querelously bestowed upon him the appellation of _upstart_, and has taxed him with a monopolising spirit, an accusation which leads us to believe, sixthly, _that he had written or prepared for the stage SEVERAL PLAYS anterior to September, 1592_; this last inference, which we conceive to be fairly deduced from the description of our poet as AN ABSOLUTE JOHANNES FAC-TOTUM with regard to the stage, will immediately bring forward again the question as to the precise era of our author's earliest drama.

Now to warrant the charge implied by the expression, _an absolute fac-totum_, we must necessarily allow a sufficient lapse of time before September, 1592, in order to admit, not only of Shakspeare's altering a play for the stage, but of his composing either altogether, or in part, both _tragedy_ and _comedy_ on a basis of his own choice, so that he might, as he actually did, appear to Greene, in the capacities of _corrector_, _improver_, and _original writer_ of plays, to be a perfect _fac-totum_.

And, if we further reflect, that the composition of the _Groatsworth of Witte_ most probably, from indisposition, occupied its author one month, as he complains of _weakness scarce suffering him to write_ towards the conclusion of his tract, and that we cannot reasonably conclude less than _two years_ to have been employed by Shakspeare in the execution of the functions assigned him by Greene; the period for the production of his first drama, will necessarily be thrown back to the August of the year 1590; an era to which no objection, from contradictory testimony, can with any show of probability apply; for, though Harrington, whose _Apologie for Poetrie_ was entered on the Stationers' books in February, 1591, has not noticed Shakspeare, yet, if we consider that this treatise was, in all likelihood, completed previous to the close of 1590, we shall not wonder that a play, performed but three or four months before the critic finished his labours, unappropriated too, there is reason to think, by the public at that time, and unacknowledged by the author, should be passed over in silence.

Having thus endeavoured to fix the era of our poet's commencement as a dramatic writer, it remains to ascertain which was the _first drama_ that, either _wholly_ or in _great part_, issued from his pen; a subject, like the former, certainly surrounded with many difficulties, liable to many errors, and only to be illustrated by a patient investigation of, and a well-weighed deduction from, minute circumstances and conflicting probabilities.

The reasons which have induced us to fix upon PERICLES, as the result of a laborious, if not a successful, enquiry, will be offered, with much diffidence, under the first article of the following Chronological Arrangement, which, though deviating, in several instances, from the chronologies of both Chalmers and Malone, will not, it is hoped, on that account be found needlessly singular, nor unproductive of a closer approximation to probability, and, perchance, to truth.

For the sake of perspicuity, it has been thought eligible to prefix, in a tabular form, the _order_ which has been adopted, the observations confirmatory of its arrangement being classed according to the series thus drawn out; and here it may be necessary to premise, that the substance of our commentary, with the exception of what may be requisite to establish a few new dates, will be chiefly confined to critical remarks on each play, relieved by intervening dissertations on the super-human agency of the poet.

CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.

1. Pericles, 1590.
2. Comedy of Errors, 1591.
3. Love's Labour's Lost, 1591.
4. King Henry the Sixth, Part I. 1592.
5. King Henry the Sixth, Part II. 1592.
6. Midsummer-Night's Dream, 1593.
7. Romeo and Juliet, 1593.
8. Taming of the Shrew, 1594.
9. Two Gentlemen of Verona, 1595.
10. King Richard the Third, 1595.
11. King Richard the Second, 1596.
12. King Henry the Fourth, Part I. 1596.
13. King Henry the Fourth, Part II. 1596.
14. The Merchant of Venice, 1597.
15. Hamlet, 1597.
16. King John, 1598.
17. All's Well That Ends Well, 1598.
18. King Henry the Fifth, 1599.
19. Much Ado About Nothing, 1599.
20. As You Like It, 1600.
21. Merry Wives of Windsor, 1601.
22. Troilus and Cressida, 1601.
23. King Henry the Eighth, 1602.
24. Timon of Athens, 1602.
25. Measure for Measure, 1603.
26. King Lear, 1604.
27. Cymbeline, 1605.
28. Macbeth, 1606.
29. Julius Cæsar, 1607.
30. Antony and Cleopatra, 1608.
31. Coriolanus, 1609.
32. The Winter's Tale, 1610.
33. The Tempest, 1611.
34. Othello, 1612.
35. Twelfth Night, 1613.

1. PERICLES, 1590. That the _greater part_, if not the whole, of this drama, was the _composition of Shakspeare_, and that it is to be considered as his _earliest_ dramatic effort, are positions, of which the first has been rendered highly probable by the elaborate disquisitions of Messrs. Steevens and Malone, and may possibly be placed in a still clearer point of view by a more condensed and lucid arrangement of the testimony already produced, and by a further discussion of the merits and peculiarities of the play itself; while the second will, we trust, receive additional support by inferences legitimately deduced from a comprehensive survey of scattered and hitherto insulated premises.

The evidence required for the establishment of a high degree of probability under the first of these positions necessarily divides itself into two parts; the _external_ and the _internal_ evidence. The former commences with the original edition of _Pericles_, which was entered on the Stationers' books by Edward Blount, one of the printers of the first folio edition of Shakspeare's plays, on the 20th of May[262:A], 1608, but did not pass the press until the subsequent year, when it was published, not, as might have been expected, by Blount, but by one Henry Gosson, who placed Shakspeare's name at full length in the title-page.

It is worthy of remark, also, that this edition was entered at Stationers' Hall together with _Antony and Cleopatra_, and that it, and the three following editions, which were also in quarto, were styled in the title-page, _the much admired play of Pericles_. As the entry, however, was by Blount, and the edition by Gosson, it is probable, as Mr. Malone has remarked, that the former had been anticipated by the latter, through the procurance of a play-house copy.[263:A] It may also be added, that _Pericles_ was performed at Shakspeare's own theatre, _The Globe_. The next ascription of this play to our author, is found in a poem entitled _The Times Displayed in Six Sestyads_, by S. Sheppard, 4to. 1646, dedicated to Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, and containing, in the ninth stanza of the sixth Sestiad, a positive assertion of Shakspeare's property in this drama:—

"See him whose tragick sceans Euripides
Doth equal, and with Sophocles we may
Compare _great Shakspear_; Aristophanes
Never like him his fancy could display,
Witness _the Prince of Tyre, HIS Pericles_."[263:B]

This high eulogium on _Pericles_ received a direct contradiction very shortly afterwards from the pen of an obscure poet named Tatham, who bears, however, an equally strong testimony as to Shakspeare being the author of the piece, which he thus presumes to censure:—

"But Shakespeare, the plebeian driller, was
Founder'd in _HIS Pericles_, and must not pass."[263:C]

To these testimonies in 1646 and 1652, full and unqualified, and made at no distant period from the death of the bard to whom they relate, we have to add the still more forcible and striking declaration of Dryden, who tells us, in 1677, and in words as strong and as decisive as he could select, that

"Shakspeare's _own muse, HIS Pericles_ first bore."[264:A]

The only drawback on this accumulation of external evidence is the omission of _Pericles_ in the first edition of our author's works; a negative fact which can have little weight when we recollect, that both the memory and judgment of Heminge and Condell, the poet's editors, were so defective, that they had _forgotten Troilus and Cressida_, until the entire folio and the table of contents had been printed, and admitted _Titus Andronicus_, and the _Historical Play of King Henry the Sixth_, probably for no other reasons, than that the former had been, from its unmerited popularity, brought forward by Shakspeare on his own theatre, though, there is sufficient internal evidence to prove, without the addition of a single line; and because the latter, with a similar predilection of the lower orders in its favour, had, on that account, obtained a similar, though not a more laboured attention from our poet, and was therefore deemed by his editors, though very unnecessarily, a requisite introduction to the two plays on the reign of that monarch which Shakspeare had really new-modelled.

It cannot, consequently, be surprising that, as they had forgotten _Troilus and Cressida_ until the folio had been printed, they should have also forgotten _Pericles_ until the same folio had been in circulation, and when it was too late to correct the omission; an error which the second folio has, without doubt or examination, blindly copied.

If the external evidence in support of Shakspeare being the author of the greater part of this play be striking, the _internal_ must be pronounced still more so, and, indeed, absolutely decisive of the question; for, whether we consider the style and phraseology, or the imagery, sentiment, and humour, the approximation to our author's uncontested dramas appears so close, frequent, and peculiar, as to stamp irresistible conviction on the mind.

The result has accordingly been such as might have been predicted under the assumption of the play being genuine; for the more it has been examined, the more clearly has Shakspeare's large property in it been established. It is curious, indeed, to note the increased tone of confidence which each successive commentator has assumed in proportion as he has weighed the testimony arising from the piece itself. _Rowe_, in his first edition, says, "it is _owned_ that some part of _Pericles_ _certainly_ was written by him, particularly the last act;" _Dr. Farmer_ observes that the hand of Shakspeare may be _seen_ in the latter part of the play; _Dr. Percy_ remarks, that "more of the phraseology used in the genuine dramas of Shakspeare prevails in _Pericles_, than in any of the other six doubted plays[265:A]," and, of the two rival restorers of this drama, _Steevens_ and _Malone_, the former declares;—"I admit without reserve that Shakspeare,

——— "whose hopeful colours
Advance _a half-fac'd sun, striving to shine_,"

is visible in _many scenes throughout the play_;—the _purpurei panni_ are Shakspeare's, and the rest the productions of some inglorious and forgotten play-wright;"—adding, in a subsequent paragraph, that _Pericles_ is valuable, "as the engravings of _Mark Antonio_ are valuable not only on account of their beauty, but because they are supposed to have been executed under the eye of _Raffaelle_[265:B];" while the latter gives it as his corrected opinion, that "the congenial sentiments, the numerous expressions bearing a striking similitude to passages in his undisputed plays, some of the incidents, the situation of many of the persons, and in various places the colour of the style, all these combine to set the seal of Shakspeare on the play before us, and furnish us with internal and irresistible proofs, that a considerable portion of this piece, as it now appears, was written by him. The greater part of the three last acts may, I think, on this ground be safely ascribed to him; and his hand may be traced occasionally in the other two divisions."[266:A] Lastly, Mr. Douce asserts, that "many will be of opinion that it contains more that _he might have written_ than either _Love's Labour's Lost_, or _All's Well that Ends Well_."[266:B]

For satisfactory proof that the style, phraseology, and imagery of the greater part of this play are truly Shakspearean, the reader is referred to the commentators, who have noticed, with unwearied accuracy, all the numerous coincidences which, in these respects, occur between _Pericles_ and the poet's subsequent productions; similitudes so striking, as to leave no doubt that they originated from one and the same source.

If we attend, however, a little further to the _dramatic construction_ of _Pericles_, to its _humour_, _sentiment_, and _character_, not only shall we find additional evidence in favour of its being, in a great degree, the product of our author, but fresh cause, it is expected, for awarding it a higher estimation than it has hitherto obtained.

However wild and extravagant the fable of _Pericles_ may appear, if we consider its numerous chorusses, its pageantry, and dumb shows, its continual succession of incidents, and the great length of time which they occupy, yet is it, we may venture to assert, the most spirited and pleasing specimen of the nature and fabric of our earliest romantic drama which we possess, and the more valuable, as it is the only one with which Shakspeare has favoured us. We should therefore welcome this play, an admirable example of "the neglected favourites of our ancestors, with something of the same feeling that is experienced in the reception of an old and valued friend of our fathers or grandfathers. Nay, we should like "it" the better for "its" gothic appendages of pageants and chorusses, to explain the intricacies of the fable; and we can see no objection to the dramatic representation even of a series of ages in a single night, that does not apply to every description of poem which leads in perusal from the fire-side at which we are sitting, to a succession of remote periods and distant countries. In these matters, faith is all-powerful; and, without her influence, the most chastely cold and critically correct of dramas is precisely as unreal as the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, or the _Winter's Tale_."[267:A]

Perfectly coinciding in opinion with this ingenious critic, and willing to give an indefinite influence to the illusion of the scene, we have found in _Pericles_ much entertainment from its uncommon variety and rapidity of incident, qualities which peculiarly mark the genius of Shakspeare, and which rendered this drama so successful on its first appearance, that the poets of the time quote its reception as a remarkable instance of popularity.[267:B]

A still more powerful attraction in _Pericles_ is, that the interest accumulates as the story proceeds; for, though many of the characters in the earlier part of the piece, such as _Antiochus_ and his _Daughter_, _Simonides_ and _Thaisa_, _Cleon_ and _Dionyza_, disappear and drop into oblivion, their places are supplied by more pleasing and efficient agents, who are not only less fugacious, but better calculated for theatric effect. The inequalities of this production are, indeed, considerable, and only to be accounted for, with probability, on the supposition, that Shakspeare either accepted a coadjutor, or improved on the rough sketch of a previous writer; the former, for reasons which will be assigned hereafter, seems entitled to a preference, and will explain why, in compliment to his dramatic friend, he has suffered a few passages, and one entire scene, of a character totally dissimilar to his own style and mode of composition, to stand uncorrected; for who does not perceive that of the closing scene of the second act, not a sentence or a word escaped from the pen of Shakspeare, and yet, that the omission of a few lines would have rendered that blameless and consistent, which is now, with reference to the character of Simonides, a tissue of imbecillity, absurdity, and falsehood.[268:A]

No play, in fact, more openly discloses the hand of Shakspeare than _Pericles_, and fortunately his share in its composition appears to have been very considerable; he may be distinctly, though not frequently, traced, in the first and second acts; after which, feeling the incompetency of his fellow-labourer, he seems to have assumed almost the entire management of the remainder, nearly the whole of the third, fourth, and fifth acts bearing indisputable testimony to the genius and execution of the great master.

The truth of these affirmations will be evident, if we give a slight attention to the sentiment and character which are developed in the scenes before us. It has been repeatedly declared, that _Pericles_, though teeming with incident, is devoid of character, an assertion which a little scrutiny is alone sufficient to refute.

Shakspeare has ever delighted in drawing the broad humour of inferior life, and in this, which we hold to be, the _first heir of his DRAMATIC invention_, no opportunity is lost for the introduction of such sketches; accordingly, the first scene of the second act, and the third and sixth scenes of the fourth act, are occupied by delineations of this kind, coloured with the poet's usual strength and verisimilitude, and painting the shrewd but honest mirth of laborious fishermen, and the vicious _badinage_ of the inhabitants of a brothel. Leaving these traits, however, which sufficiently speak for themselves, let us turn our view on the more serious persons of the drama.

Of the _minor_ characters belonging to this groupe, none, except _Helicanus_ and _Cerimon_, are, it must be confessed, worthy of consideration; the former is respectable for his fidelity and integrity, though not individualised by any peculiar attribution, but in Cerimon, who exhibits the rare union of the nobleman and the physician, the most unwearied benevolence, the most active philanthropy, are depicted in glowing tints, and we have only to regret that he fills not a greater space in the business of the drama. He is introduced in the second scene of the third act, as having

"Shaken off the golden slumber of repose,"

to assist, in a dreadfully inclement night, some shipwrecked mariners:

"_Cer._ Get fire and meat for these poor men;
It has been a turbulent and stormy night.

_Serv._ I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne'er endur'd."

His prompt assistance on this occasion calls forth the eulogium of some gentlemen who had been roused from their slumbers by the violence of the tempest:

"Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd:
And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even
Your purse, still open, hath built lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall never—"

They are here interrupted by two servants bringing in a chest which had been washed on shore, and which is found to contain the body of Thaisa, the wife of Pericles, on a survey of which, Cerimon pronounces, from the freshness of its appearance, that it had been too hastily committed to the sea, adding an observation which would form an excellent motto to an Essay on the means of restoring suspended animation:

"Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The overpressed spirits."

The disinterested conduct and philosophic dignity of Cerimon cannot be placed in a more amiable and striking light, than in that which they receive from the following declaration, worthy of being inscribed in letters of gold in the library of every liberal cultivator of medical science:

"_Cerimon._ I held it ever
Virtue and "knowledge"[271:A] were endowments greater
Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs
May the two latter darken and expend;
But immortality attends the former,
Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever
Have studied physick, through which secret art,
By turning o'er authorities, I have
(Together with my practice) made familiar
To me and to my aid, the blest infusions
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
And I can speak of the disturbances
That nature works, and of her cures; which give me
A more content in course of true delight
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags."

If we now contemplate the two chief personages of the play, _Pericles_ and _Marina_; and if it can be proved that these occupy, as they should do, the fore ground of the picture, are well relieved, and characteristically sustained, nothing can be wanting, when combined with the other marks of authenticity collected by the commentators, to substantiate the genuine property of Shakspeare.

Buoyant with hope, ardent in enterprise, and animated by the keenest sensibility, _Pericles_ is brought forward as a model of knighthood. Chivalric in his habits, romantic in his conceptions, and elegant in his accomplishments, he is represented as the devoted servant of glory and of love. His failings, however, are not concealed; for the enthusiasm and susceptibility of his character lead him into many errors; he is alternately the sport of joy and grief, at one time glowing with rapture, at another plunged into utter despair. Not succeeding in his amatory overture at the court of Antiochus, and shocked at the criminality of that monarch and his daughter, he becomes a prey to the deepest despondency:—

"The sad companion, dull-eye'd melancholy,
By me so us'd a guest is, not an hour,
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,
The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet."[272:A]

Affliction, however, of a more unequivocal kind soon assails him; he is shipwrecked on the coast of Greece, and compelled to solicit support from the benevolence of some poor fishermen. His address to these honest creatures is truly pathetic:—

"_Per._ He asks of you, that never us'd to beg.—
What I have been, I have forgot to know;
But what I am, want teaches me to think on;
A man shrunk up with cold: my veins are chill,
And have no more of life, than may suffice
To give my tongue that heat, to ask your help."[273:A]

From this state of dejection he is suddenly raised to the most sanguine pitch of hope, on perceiving the fishermen dragging in their net to shore a suit of rusty armour. Enveloped in this, he determines to appear at Pentapolis the neighbouring capital of Simonides, as a knight and gentleman; to purchase a steed with a jewel yet remaining on his arm, and to enter the lists of a tournament then in preparation, as a candidate for the hand of Thaisa, the daughter of the king. His exultation on the prospect, he thus expresses to his humble friends:

"Now, by your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel;
And, spite of all the rupture of the sea,
This jewel holds his biding on my arm;
Unto thy value will I mount myself
Upon a courser, whose delightful steps
Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread."[273:B]

The same rapid transition of the passions, and the same subjection to uncontrolled emotions mark his future course; the supposed deaths of his wife and daughter immerse him in the deepest abstraction and gloom; he is represented, in consequence of these events, as

"A man, who for this three months hath not spoken
To any one, nor taken sustenance
But to prorogue his grief."[273:C]

We are prepared therefore to expect, that the discovery of the existence of these dear relatives should have a proportionate effect on feelings thus constituted, so sensitive and so acute; and, accordingly, the tide of rapture rolls in with overwhelming force. Nothing, indeed, can be more impressively conducted than the _recognition_ of _Marina_; it is Shakspeare, not in the infancy of his career, but approaching to the zenith of his glory.—Conviction on the part of Pericles is accompanied by a flood of tears; why, says his daughter,

——————— "Why do you weep? It may be
You think me an impostor.——

_Per._ O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir;
Give me a gash, put me to present pain;
Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me,
O'erbear the shores of my mortality,
And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither,—
Thou that was born at sea, buried at Tharsus,
And found at sea again!—O Helicanus,
Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods."[274:A]

Nature appeals here to the heart in a tone not to be misunderstood.

Ecstasy, however, cannot long be borne, the feeble powers of man soon sink beneath the violence of the emotion, and mark how Shakspeare closes the conflict:

"_Per._ ——————— I embrace you, sir.
Give me my robes; I am wild in my beholding.
O heavens bless my girl! But hark, what musick?—
Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him
————————— for yet he seems to doubt,
How sure you are my daughter.—But what musick?

_Her._ My lord, I hear none.

_Per._ None?
The musick of the spheres: list, my Marina.—
Most heavenly musick:
It nips me unto list'ning, and thick slumber
Hangs on mine eye-lids; let me rest. (_He sleeps._)"[274:B]

It might be imagined that the above scene would almost necessarily preclude any chance of success in the immediately subsequent detail of the discovery of _Thaisa_; but the poet has contrived, notwithstanding, to throw both novelty and interest into this the final dénouement of the play. Pericles, aided by the evidence of Cerimon, recognises his wife in the character of high Priestess of the Temple of Diana at Ephesus; the acknowledgment is thus pathetically painted:—

"_Per._ ——— No more, you gods! your present kindness
Makes my past miseries sport: You shall do well,
That on the touching of her lips I may
Melt, and no more be seen. O come, be buried
A second time within these arms.

_Marina._ My heart
Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.
(_Kneels to THAISA._

_Per._ Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;
Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina,
For she was yielded there.

_Thaisa._ Bless'd and mine own!"[275:A]

To the many amiable and interesting female characters with which the undisputed works of our poet abound, may be added the _Marina_ of this drama, who, like Miranda, Imogen, and Perdita, pleases by the gentleness, and artless tenderness of her disposition; though it must be allowed that _Marina_ can only be considered as a _sketch_ when compared with the more highly finished designs of our author's maturer pencil; it is a sketch, however, from the hand of a master, and cannot be mistaken.

Pericles commits his infant daughter, accompanied by her nurse Lychorida, to the protection of Cleon and Dionyza:—

"_Per._ Good Madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.

_Dion._ I have one myself,
Who shall not be more dear to my respect,
Than your's, my lord.

_Per._ Madam, my thanks and prayers.

_Cleon._ We'll bring your grace even to the edge o'the shore;
Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune, and
The gentlest winds of heaven.

_Per._ I will embrace
Your offer. Come, dear'st Madam.—O, no tears.
Lychorida, no tears:
Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
You may depend hereafter."[276:A]

The affectionate attachment of Marina to this friend of her infancy, and her deep-felt sorrow for her loss, advantageously open her character in the first scene of the fourth act, where she is introduced strewing the grave of Lychorida with flowers.

"_Enter MARINA, with a Basket of Flowers._

_Mar._ No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed,
To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,
The purple violets, and madrigolds,
Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,
While summer days do last. Ah me! poor maid,
Born in a tempest, when my mother died,
This world to me is like a lasting storm,
Whirring me from my friends;"[276:B]

a passage, the leading idea of which, Shakspeare has transplanted with the same pleasing effect into his _Cymbeline_.[276:C]

Scarcely has Marina lamented the decease of her faithful attendant, when envy and malignity conspire against her life in the bosom of one who ought to have been her surest safeguard against misfortune. Dionyza, perceiving her own daughter eclipsed by the beauty and accomplishments of her ward, resolves upon her destruction, and bribes a wretch, named Leonine, to the commission of the deed. The dialogue which takes place on this occasion, between the ruffian and his intended victim, places the artless simplicity of the latter in a very pleasing point of view.

"_Leon._ Come, say your prayers speedily.

_Mar._ What mean you?

_Leon._ If you require a little space for prayer,
I grant it: Pray; but be not tedious,
For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
To do my work with haste.

_Mar._ Why, will you kill me?

_Leon._ To satisfy my lady.

_Mar._ Why would she have me killed?
Now, as I can remember,
I never did her hurt in all my life;
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn
To any living creature: believe me,
I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:
I trod upon a worm against my will,
But I wept for it. How have I offended,
Wherein my death might yield her profit, or
My life imply her danger?

_Leon._ My commission
Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.

_Mar._ You will not do't for all the world, I hope.
You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow
You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately,
When you caught hurt in parting two that fought:
Good sooth, it show'd well in you; do so now:
Your lady seeks my life; come you between,
And save poor me, the weaker."[277:A]

Marina snatched from this villain by the sudden intervention of pirates, is sold by them to the keeper of a brothel at Mitylene, a situation which appears to her still more dreadful than that from which she has so narrowly escaped. She laments that Leonine had not executed his orders, or that the pirates had not thrown her overboard, and exclaims in language equally beautiful and appropriate,—

"——————— O that the good gods
Would set me free from this unhallow'd place,
Though they did change me to the meanest bird
That flies i' the purer air."[278:A]

Indebted to her talents and accomplishments, which she represents to her purchasers as more likely to be productive than the wages of prostitution, she is allowed to quit the brothel uninjured, but under a compact to devote the profits of her industry and skill to the support of her cruel oppressors.

The mild fortitude and resignation which she exhibits during this humiliating state of servitude, and the simple dignity which she displays in her person and manners, are forcibly delineated in the following observations of Pericles, who, roused from his torpor by her figure, voice, and features, and interested in her narrative, thus addresses her:—

"Pr'ythee speak;
Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou look'st
Modest as justice, and thou seem'st a palace
For the crown'd truth to dwell in:—"yea" thou dost look
Like Patience, gazing on king's graves and smiling
Extremity out of act:"[279:A]

a picture which is rendered yet more touching by a subsequent trait; for Lysimachus informs us

"———————— she would never tell
Her parentage; being demanded that,
She would sit still and weep."[279:B]

To this delightful sketch of female tenderness and subdued suffering, nearly all the interest of the last two acts is to be ascribed, and we feel, therefore, highly gratified that sorrows so unmerited, and so well borne, should, at length, terminate not only in repose, but in positive happiness. The poet, indeed, has allotted strict retributory justice to all his characters; the bad are severely punished, while in Pericles and his daughter, we behold

"Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast,
Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last."[279:C]

To whom, may it now be asked, if not to Shakspeare, can this play with any probability be given? Has not the above slight analysis of its two principal characters, with the quotations necessarily adduced, fully convinced us, that in style, sentiment, and imagery, and in the outline and conception of its chief female personage, the hand of our great master is undeniably displayed?

We presume, therefore, both the _external_ and _internal evidence_ for much the greater part of this play being the _composition of Shakspeare_ may be pronounced complete and unanswerable; and it now only remains to enquire, if there be sufficient ground for considering _Pericles_, as we have ventured to do in this arrangement, as the _FIRST dramatic production_ of our author's pen.

It is very extraordinary that the positive testimony of Dryden as to the _priority_ of _Pericles_, especially if we weigh well the import of the context, should ever have admitted of a moment's doubt or controversy. Nothing can, we think, be more plainly declaratory than the lines in question, which shall be given at length:—

"Your Ben and Fletcher in their _first young flight_,
Did no _Volpone_, no _Arbaces_ write:
But hopp'd about, and short excursions made
From bough to bough, as if they were afraid;
And each were guilty of some _Slighted Maid_.
_Shakspeare's own muse his Pericles FIRST bore_;
The _Prince of Tyre_ was elder than _The Moor_:
'Tis miracle to see a _first_ good _play_;
All hawthorns do not bloom on Christmas-day.
A slender poet must have time to grow,
And spread and burnish, as his brothers do:
Who still looks lean, sure with some p— is curst,
But no man can be Falstaff fat at _first_."[281:A]

This passage, if it mean any thing, must imply, not only from the bare assertion of one line, but from all the accessory matter, that _Pericles_ was the first _young flight_ of Shakspeare, that it was _the first offspring of his dramatic muse_, his _first play_. That this _was_ the meaning of Dryden, and not merely that _Pericles_ was produced before _Othello_, will be further evident from recollecting the occasion of the Prologue whence these lines are taken. It was written to introduce the _first_ play of Dr. Charles D'Avenant, then only nineteen years of age, and the bard expressly calls it _"the blossom of his green years," the "rude essay of a youthful poet, who may grow up to write,"_ expressions which can assimilate it with _Pericles_ only on the supposition that the latter was, like _Circe_, a _firstling_ of dramatic genius.

That Dryden, who wrote this prologue in 1675, possessed, from his approximation to the age of Shakspeare, many advantages for ascertaining the truth, none will deny. When the former had attained the age of twenty, the latter had been dead but thirty-five years, and the subsequent connection of the modern bard with the stage, and his intimacy with Sir William D'Avenant, who had produced his first play in 1629, and had been well acquainted with Heminge and the surviving companions of Shakspeare, would furnish him with sufficient _data_ for his assertion, independent of any reliance on the similar declarations of Shepherd and Tatham.

Taking the statement of Dryden, therefore, as a disclosure of the fact, it follows, of course, from what has been previously said on the epoch of Shakspeare's commencement as a dramatic writer, that _Pericles_ must be referred to the autumn of the year 1590, an assignment which the consideration of a few particulars will tend to corroborate.

In the first place, it may be remarked, that the numerous _dumb shows_ of this play, are of themselves a striking presumptive proof of its antiquity, indicating that Shakspeare, who subsequently laughed at these clumsy expedients, thought it necessary, at the opening of his career, to fall in with the fashion of the times, with a fashion which had reigned from the earliest establishment of our stage, which was still in vogue in 1590, but soon after this period became an object of ridicule, and began to decline.

Mr. Malone has remarked, that from the manner in which _Pericles_ is mentioned in a metrical pamphlet, entitled _Pimlyco or Runne Red-cap_, 1609, there is reason to conclude that it is coëval with the old play of _Jane Shore_[282:A]; and this latter being noticed by Beaumont and Fletcher in conjunction with _The Bold Beauchamps_[282:B], a production which D'Avenant classes, in point of age, with _Tamburlaine_ and _Faustus_[282:C], pieces which appeared in or before 1590, he infers, perhaps not injudiciously, that _Pericles_ has a claim to similar antiquity, and should be ascribed to the year 1590.[283:A]

But a still stronger conclusion in favour of the date which, we think, should be assigned to _Pericles_, may be drawn from a suggestion of Mr. Steevens, which has not perhaps been sufficiently considered. This gentleman contends, that Shakspeare's Prince of Tyre was originally named _Pyroclés_, after the hero of Sidney's Arcadia, the character, as he justly observes, not bearing the smallest affinity to that of the Athenian statesman. "It is remarkable," says he, "that many of our ancient writers were ambitious to exhibit Sidney's worthies on the stage: and when his subordinate agents were advanced to such honour, how happened it that _Pyrocles_, their leader, should be overlooked? Musidorus (his companion), Argalus and Parthenia, Phalantus and Eudora, Andromana, &c. furnished titles for different tragedies; and perhaps _Pyrocles_, in the present instance, was defrauded of a like distinction. The names invented or employed by Sidney, had once such popularity, that they were sometimes borrowed by poets who did not profess to follow the direct current of his fables, or attend to the strict preservation of his characters.—I must add, that the _Appolyn_ of the Story-book and Gower could have been rejected only to make room for a more favourite name; yet, however conciliating the name of _Pyrocles_ might have been, that of _Pericles_ could challenge no advantage with regard to general predilection.—All circumstances therefore considered, it is not improbable that our author designed his chief character to be called _Pyrocles_, not _Pericles_, however ignorance or accident might have shuffled the latter (a name of almost similar sound) into the place of the former."[283:B]

The probability of this happy conjecture will amount almost to certainty, if we diligently compare _Pericles_ with the _Pyrocles_ of the _Arcadia_; the same romantic, versatile, and sensitive disposition is ascribed to both characters, and several of the incidents pertaining to the latter are found mingled with the adventures of the former personage, while, throughout the play, the obligations of its author to various other parts of the romance may be frequently and distinctly traced, not only in the assumption of an image or a sentiment, but in the adoption of the very words of his once popular predecessor, proving incontestably the poet's familiarity with and study of the _Arcadia_ to have been very considerable.[284:A]

Now this work of Sidney, commenced in 1580, was corrected and published by his sister the Countess of Pembroke, in 1590, and the admiration which it immediately excited would naturally induce a young actor, then meditating his first essay in dramatic poetry, instantly to avail himself of its popularity, and, by appropriating the appellation of its principal hero, fix the attention of the public. That Shakspeare long preserved his attachment to the _Arcadia_, is evident from his _King Lear_, where the episode of Gloster and his sons is plainly copied from the first edition of this romance.[284:B]

The date assigned to _Pericles_, on this foundation, being admitted, it follows of course, that Shakspeare could not have had time to improve upon the sketch of a predecessor; and yet from the texture of some parts of the composition, we are compelled to infer, that in this first effort in dramatic poetry, he must have condescended to accept the assistance of a friend, whose inferiority to himself is distinctly visible through the greater part of the first two acts, a position the probability of which seems to have induced Mr. Steevens to yield his assent to Dryden's assertion. "In one light, indeed, I am ready," remarks this acute commentator, "to allow _Pericles_ was our poet's _first_ attempt. Before he was satisfied with his own strength, and trusted himself to the publick, he might have tried his hand with a _partner_, and entered the theatre in disguise. Before he ventured to face an audience on the stage, it was natural that he should peep at them through the curtain."[285:A]

The objections which have been made to this _priority_ of _Pericles_ in point of time, may be reduced to three, of which the first is drawn from the non-enumeration of the play by Meres, when giving a list of our poet's dramas, in 1598.[285:B] But if it were the object of Shakspeare and his coadjutor to lie concealed from the public eye, of which there can be little doubt, since the former, as hath been remarked, having never owned his share in it, or supposing it to be forgotten, was afterwards willing to profit by the most valuable lines and ideas it contained[285:C], the omission of Meres is easily accounted for; yet granting that our author had been well known as the chief writer of _Pericles_, the validity of the objection is not thereby established, for we find in this catalogue neither the play of _King Henry the Sixth_, in any of its parts, nor the tragedy of _Hamlet_, pieces undoubtedly written and performed before the year 1598.

A second objection is founded on the title-page of the first edition of _Pericles_, published in 1609, where this drama is termed "the _late_ and much admired play."[285:D] It is obvious that from a word so indefinite in its signification as _late_, whether taken adverbially or adjectively, nothing decisive can result. To a play written eighteen years before, the lexicographic definitions of the term in question, namely, _in times past_, _not long ago_, _not far from the present_, may, without doubt, justly apply; but we must also add, that it is uncertain whether the word is meant to refer to the period of the composition of the play, or to the date of its last representation; _lately performed_ being most probably the sense in which the editor intended to be understood.

Lastly, Mr. Douce is of opinion that three of the devices of the knights in act the second, scene the second, of _Pericles_, are copied from a translation of the _Heroicall Devises of Paradin and Symeon_, printed in 1591, which, if correct, would necessarily bring forward the date of the play either to this or the subsequent year; but from this difficulty we are relieved even by Mr. Douce himself, who owns that two out of the three are to be found in _Whitney's Emblems_, published in 1586, a confession which leads us to infer that the third may have an equally early origin.[286:A]

From the extensive survey which has now been taken of the merits and supposed era of this early drama, the reader, it is probable, will gather sufficient _data_ for concluding that by far _the greater part of it issued from the pen of Shakspeare_, that _it was his first dramatic production_, that _it appeared towards the close of the year 1590_, and that _it deserves to be removed from the Appendix to the editions of Shakspeare, where it has hitherto appeared, and incorporated in the body of his works_.

2. COMEDY OF ERRORS, 1591. That this play should be ascribed to the year 1591, and not to 1593, or 1596, has, we think, been fully established by Mr. Chalmers[286:B], to whom, therefore, the reader is referred, with this additional observation, that, from an account published in the _British Bibliographer_, of an interlude, named _Jacke Jugeler_, which was entered in the Stationers' books in 1562-3, it appears that the _Menæchmi_ of Plautus, on which this comedy is founded, "was, in part at least, known at a very early period upon the English stage[286:C]," a further proof that versions or imitations of it had been in existence long prior to Warner's translation in 1595.

As the _Comedy of Errors_ is one of the few plays of Shakspeare mentioned by _Meres_ in 1598, and as we shall have occasion to refer more than once to the catalogue of this critic, it will be necessary, before we proceed farther in our arrangement, to give a transcript of this short but interesting article. It is taken from his "Palladis Tamia. Wit's Treasury. Being the second part of Wit's Common Wealth," 1598, and from that part of it entitled "A comparative discourse of our English Poets, with the Greeke, Latine, and Italian Poets."

"As Plautus and Seneca are accounted the best for comedy and tragedy among the Latines, so Shakspeare, among y{e} English, is the most excellent in both kinds for the stage; for comedy, witness his Gẽtlemẽ of Verona, his Errors, his Love Labor's Lost, his Love Labour's Wonne, his Midsummer's-Night Dreame, and his Merchant of Venice: for tragedy, his Richard the 2. Richard the 3. Henry the 4. King John, Titus Andronicus, and his Romeo and Juliet."[287:A]

Some of the commentators, and more particularly Ritson and Steevens, have positively pronounced this play to have been originally the composition of a writer anterior to Shakspeare, and that it merely received some embellishments from our poet's pen: "On a careful revision of the foregoing scenes," says the latter gentleman, "I do not hesitate to pronounce them the composition of two very unequal writers. Shakspeare had undoubtedly a share in them; but that the entire play was no work of his, is an opinion which (as Benedick says) 'fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in it at the stake.' Thus, as we are informed by Aulus Gellius, lib. iii. cap. 3. some plays were absolutely ascribed to Plautus which in truth had only been (_retractatæ_ et _expolitæ_) retouched and polished by him."[287:B]

We have frequently occasion to admire the wit, the classical elegance, and the ingenuity of Mr. Steevens, but we have often also to regret the force of his prejudices, and the unqualified dogmatism of his critical opinions. That the business of the _Comedy of Errors_ is better calculated for farce than for legitimate comedy, cannot be denied; and it must also be confessed that the doggrel verses attributed to the two Dromios, contribute little to the humour or value of the piece; but let us, at the same time, recollect, that the admission of the latter was in conformity to the custom of the age in which this play was produced[288:A], and that the former, though perplexed and somewhat improbable[288:B], possesses no small share of entertainment.

This drama of Shakspeare is, in fact, much more varied, rich, and interesting in its incidents, than the _Menæchmi_ of Plautus; and while in rigid adherence to the unities of action, time, and place, our poet rivals the Roman play, he has contrived to insinuate the necessary previous information for the spectator, in a manner infinitely more pleasing and artful than that adopted by the Latin bard, for whilst Plautus has chosen to convey it through the medium of a prologue, Shakspeare has rendered it at once natural and pathetic, by placing it in the mouth of Ægeon, the father of the twin brothers.

In a play of which the plot is so intricate, occupied in a great measure by mere personal mistakes, and their whimsical results, no elaborate developement of character can be expected; yet is the portrait of Ægeon touched with a discriminative hand, and the pressure of age and misfortune is so painted, as to throw a solemn, dignified, and impressive tone of colouring over this part of the fable, contrasting well with the lighter scenes which immediately follow, a mode of relief which is again resorted to at the close of the drama, where the re-union of Ægeon and Æmilia, and the recognition of their children, produce an interest in the denouëment, of a nature more affecting than the tone of the preceding scenes had taught us to expect.