Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

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," and, of the two rival restorers of this drama, Steevens and Malone, the former declares; "I admit without reserve that Shakspeare,

66

"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 playwright;"-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;" while the latter gives it as his corrected opinion, that "the congenial sentiments, :the numerous expressions bearing a striking similitude to passages in his undis.puted 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." 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."

66

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 allpowerful; 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."*

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."+

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 imbecility, absurdity, and falsehood. ‡

Monthly Review, New Series, vol. lxxvii. p. 158.

† Thus, in the prologue to a comedy entitled The Hog has lost his Pearl, 1614, the author, alluding to his own production, says, "if it prove so happy as to please,

Well say, 'tis fortunate, like Pericles."

As this is the only scene in the play which disgusts from its total dereliction of nature, a result at once decisive as to Shakspeare having no property in it; and as the mere omission of a few lines, not a word being either added or altered, will be sufficient to render the whole probable and inoffensive, I cannot avoid wishing that such curtailment might be adopted in every future edition.

SCENE V.

PENTAPOLIS. A Room in the Palace.

Sim. Sir, you are music's master.

Per. The worst of all her scholars, my good lord. Sim. Let me ask one thing. What do you think, sir, of

Enter SIMONIDES and the KNIGHTS: SIMONIDES My daughter?

reading a letter.

[blocks in formation]

Per. As of a most virtuous princess.
Sim. And she is fair too, is she not?
Per. As a fair day in summer; wondrons fair.
Sim. My daughter, sir, thinks very well of you;
Ay, so well, that- -peruse this writing, sir.
Per. What's here!

A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre?
'Tis the king's subtilty, to have my life. (Aside.
O, seek not to intrap, my gracious lord,
A stranger and distressed gentleman,
That never aim'd so high, to love your daughter,
But bent all offices to honour her.

Sim. Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou

art

A traitor.

Per. By the gods, I have not, sir.
Never did thought of mine levy offence;
Nor never did my actions yet commence
A deed might gain her love, or your displeasure.
My actions are as noble as my thoughts,
That never relish'd of a base descent.

I came unto your court, for honour's cause,

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 Leen 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 group, 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-

And not to be a rebel to her state;

And he that otherwise accounts of me,

This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy.

Will you, not having my consent, bestow
Your love and your affections on a stranger?-
Hear, therefore, mistress; frame your will to mine,--

Sim. Now, by the gods, I do applaud his cou- And you, sir, hear you.-Either be rul'd by me,

rage. (Aside.

Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.

Enter THAISA.

Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?

Or I will make you-man and wife.

And for a further grief,-God give you joy!
What, are you both agreed?

Thais. Yes, if you love me, sir.

(Addressing Pericles,

Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it. (Exeunt.

(Addressing his daughter. | Thus contracted, the scene would no longer excite the "supreme contempt” which Mr. Steevens expresses for it, adding in reference to its original state, "such another gross, nonsensical dialogue, would be sought for in vain among the earliest and rudest efforts of the British theatre. It is impossible not to wish that the Knights had horse-whipped Simonides, and that Pericles had kicked him off the stage.”

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 as 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" 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 physic, 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."

Act i. sc. 2.

Affliction, however, of a more unequivocal nature soon assails him; he is sh wrecked on the coast of Greece, and compelled to solicit support from the bene volence of some poor fishermen ;—

"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.”

Act ii. sc 1.

For the sake of perspicuity, I have substituted the word “knowledge,” as synonymous with “ the term in the ori inal.

[ocr errors]

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 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."

Act ii. sc. 1.

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."

Act v. sc. 1.

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 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,

[blocks in formation]

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

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

[blocks in formation]

Most heavenly music:

It nips me unto list'ning, and thick slumber

Hangs on mine eye-lids; let me rest. (He sleeps.)"-Act v. sc. 1.

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 the final dénouement of the play. Pericles, aided by the evidence of

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »