CHAPTER IX.

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.

As to the comic action which constitutes the chief bulk of this piece, if it be true that to excite laughter, awaken attention, and fix curiosity, be essential to its dramatic excellence, the _Comedy of Errors_ cannot be pronounced an unsuccessful effort; both reader and spectator are hurried on to the close, through a series of thick-coming incidents, and under the pleasurable influence of novelty, expectation, and surprise; and the dialogue, so far from betraying the inequalities complained of by Ritson and Steevens, is uniformly vivacious, pointed, and even effervescing. Shakspeare is visible, in fact, throughout the entire play, as well in the broad exuberance of its mirth, as in the cast of its more chastised parts, a combination of which may be found in the punishment and character of Pinch the pedagogue and conjurer, who is sketched in the strongest and most marked style of our author.

If we consider, therefore, the construction of the fable, the narrowness of its basis, and that its powers of entertainment are almost exclusively confined to a continued deception of the external senses, we must confess that Shakspeare has not only improved on the Plautian model, but, making allowance for a somewhat too coarse vein of humour, has given to his production all the interest and variety that the nature and the limits of his subject would permit.

3. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST: 1591. In the first edition of Mr. Malone's Chronological Essay on Shakspeare's Plays, which was published in January, 1778, the year 1591 is the date assigned to this drama, an epoch, which, in the re-impression of 1793, was changed in the catalogue for the subsequent era of 1594, though the reasons given for this alteration appeared so inconclusive to the chronologist himself, that he ventures in the text merely to say,—"I think it probable, that our author's first draft of this play was written in or _before_ 1594[289:A]," a mode of expression which leaves as much authority to the former as the latter date. In short, the only motive brought forward for the present locality of this piece in Mr. Malone's list, where it appears posterior to _A Midsummer-Night's Dream_, the _Comedy of Errors_, and _The Taming of the Shrew_, is, that there is more attempt at delineation of character in it than in either the first or second of the plays just mentioned[290:A], a reason which loses all its weight the moment we seriously contrast this comedy with its supposed predecessors, for who would then think of assigning to the very slight sketches of Biron and Katharine, any mark of improvement, either in poetic or dramatic strength, over the imaginative powers of the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, or the strong, broad, and often characteristic outlines of _The Taming of the Shrew_!

The construction, indeed, of the whole play, the variety of its versification, the abundancy of its rhymes, and the length and frequency of its doggrel lines, very clearly prove this comedy to be one of our author's very earliest compositions; indications which _originally_ disposed Mr. Malone to give it to the year which we have adopted, and which induced Mr. Chalmers to assign it to 1592, though why he prefers this year to the preceding does not appear.

Of _Love's Labour's Lost_, as it was performed in the year 1591, we possess no exact transcript; for, in the oldest edition which has hitherto been found of this play, namely that of 1598, it is said in the title-page to be _newly corrected and augmented_, with the further information, that it had been _presented before Her Highness the last Christmas_; facts which show, that we are in possession not of the first draft or edition of this comedy, but only of that copy which represents it as it was _revived_ and _improved_ for the entertainment of the Queen, in 1597.

The _original sketch_, whether printed or merely performed, we conceive to have been one of the pieces alluded to by Greene, in 1592, when he accuses Shakspeare of being _an absolute Johannes fac-totum_ of the stage, _primarily_ and _principally_ from the mode of its execution, which, as we have already observed, betrays the earliness of its source in the strongest manner; _secondarily_, that, like _Pericles_, it occasionally copies the language of the _Arcadia_, then with all the attractive _novelty_ of its reputation in full bloom[291:A], and _thirdly_, that in the fifth act, various allusions to the Muscovites or Russians, seem evidently to point to a period when Russia and its inhabitants attracted the public consideration, a period which we find, from Hackluyt[291:B], to have occupied the years 1590 and 1591, when, as Warburton and Chalmers have observed, the arrangement of Russian commerce engaged very particularly the attention, and formed the conversation, of the court, the city, and the country.[291:C]

It may be also remarked, that while no play among our author's works exhibits more decisive marks of juvenility than _Love's Labour's Lost_, none, at the same time, is more strongly imbued with the peculiar cast of his youthful genius; for in style and manner, it bears a closer resemblance to the _Venus and Adonis_, the _Rape of Lucrece_, and the _earlier Sonnets_, than any other of his genuine dramas. It presents us, in short, with a continued contest of wit and repartee, the persons represented, whether high or low, vying with each other, throughout the piece, in the production of the greatest number of jokes, sallies, and verbal equivoques. The profusion with which these are every-where scattered, has, unfortunately, had the effect of throwing an air of uniformity over all the characters, who seem solely intent on keeping up the ball of raillery; yet is _Biron_ now and then discriminated by a few strong touches, and _Holofernes_ is probably the portrait of an individual, some of his quotations having justly induced the commentators to infer, that _Florio_, the author of _First_ and _Second Fruits_, dialogues in Italian and English, and of a _Dictionary_, entitled _A World of Words_, was the object of the poet's satire.

If in dramatic strength of painting this comedy be deficient, and it appears to us, in this quality, inferior to _Pericles_, we must, independent of the vivacity of its dialogue already noticed, acknowledge, that it displays several poetical gems, that it contains many just moral apophthegms, and that it affords, even in the closet, no small fund of amusement; and here it is worthy of being remarked, and may, indeed, without prejudice or prepossession, be asserted, that, even to the earliest and most unfinished dramas of our poet, a peculiar interest is felt to be attached, not arising from the fascination of a name, but from an intrinsic and almost inexplicable power of pleasing, which we in vain look for in the juvenile plays of other bards, and which serves, perhaps better than any other criterion, to ascertain the genuine property of Shakspeare; it is, in fact, a touchstone, which, when applied to _Titus Andronicus_, and what has been termed the _First Part_ of Henry the Sixth, must, if every other evidence were wanting, flash conviction on our senses.

4. KING HENRY THE SIXTH: PART THE FIRST: 1592;

5. KING HENRY THE SIXTH: PART THE SECOND: 1592:

It will be immediately perceived that this arrangement is intended to exclude what has very improperly, in modern times, been ascribed to Shakspeare as the _First Part_ of HIS King Henry the Sixth. The spuriousness of this part, indeed, has been so satisfactorily proved by Mr. Malone, that no doubt can be supposed any longer to rest on the subject; and, if any lingered, it would be still further shaken by what has since transpired; for, from the discovery of Mr. Henslowe's Accounts, at Dulwich College, it appears that this play was never entitled, as Mr. Malone had conjectured, to its present appellation, but was simply styled as it is here entered, _Henry the Sixth_, and had no connection with the subsequent plays of Peele and Marlowe on the same reign. The entry is dated the 3d of March, 1591, and the play being the property of Lord Strange's company, and performed at the Rose theatre, with neither of which Shakspeare had, at any time, the smallest connection, render the external testimony still more confirmatory of Mr. Malone's position, as to the antiquity, priority, and insulated origin of this drama.[292:A] The internal evidence, however, is quite sufficient for the purpose; for the hand of Shakspeare is nowhere visible throughout the entire of this "Drum-and-trumpet-Thing," as Mr. Morgan has justly termed it.[293:A] Yet that our author, subsequent to his re-modelling _The first Part of the Contention_, and _The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of Yorke_, might alter the arrangement, or slightly correct the diction of this play, is very possible,—an interference, however trivial, which probably induced the editors of the first folio, from the period in which this design was executed, to _register_ it with Shakspeare's undisputed plays, under the improper title of _The Third Part of King Henry the Sixth_.[293:B]

As this drama therefore, which we hold to contain not ten lines of Shakspeare's composition, was, when originally produced, called _The Play of Henry the VI._, and in 1623, registered _The Third Part of King Henry the VI._; though, in the folio published during the same year, it was then for the _first_ time named the _first_ part, would it not be allowable to infer, that the two plays which our poet built on the foundations of Marlowe, or perhaps Marlowe, Peele, and Greene, though not printed before they appeared in the folio, were yet termed, not as they are designated in the modern editions, the _second_ and _third_ parts, but as we have here called them, the _first_ and _second_ parts? Such, in fact, appears to have been the case; for, since the publication of Mr. Malone's Essay, an entry on the Stationers' Registers has been discovered[293:C], made by Tho. Pavier, and dated April, 19th, 1602, of "The 1st and 2d pts of Henry VI. ij. books[294:A];" which entry, whether it be supposed to apply to the original _Contention_ and _True Tragedy_, or to an intended edition of the same plays as altered by Shakspeare, clearly proves, that this designation of _first_ and _second_ was here given either to the primary or secondary set of these two plays, and, if applied to one set, would necessarily be applicable to, and used in speaking of, the other.

These two plays then, founded on _The First Part of the Contention of the Two famous Houses of Yorke and Lancaster_, and on the _Second_, or _The true Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke_, written by Marlowe and his friends about the year 1590[294:B], we conceive to have been brought forward by Shakspeare with great and numerous improvements, in 1592.

The vacillation of the commentators in determining the era of our author's two parts of _Henry the Sixth_, has been very extraordinary. The year 1592 was fixed upon in 1778; this, in 1793, was changed to 1593, or 1594; and in 1803, to 1591; while Mr. Chalmers, in 1799, had adopted the date of 1595!

That these plays had received their new dress from the hand of Shakspeare, previous to September, 1592, is, we think, irreversibly established by Greene's parody, in his _Groatsworth of Wit_, on a line in the second of these productions, an allusion which, with the context, can neither be set aside nor misapplied: that they were thus re-modelled in 1592, rather than in 1591, will appear highly probable, when we reflect that, in the passage where this parody is found, Shakspeare is termed, in reference to the stage, _an absolute Johannes factotum_, an epithet which, as we have before remarked, implies that our poet had written and altered several pieces before that period, and had the two parts of _Henry the Sixth_ been early in the series, that is, immediately subsequent to _Pericles_, the indignation of Greene, no doubt, had been sooner expressed; for we find him writing with great warmth, under a sense of recent injury, and under the pressure of mortal disease; "albeit weakness," says he, "will scarce suffer me to write;" a time which certainly would not have been chosen for the annunciation of his anger, had the supposed offence been given, and it must have been known as soon as committed, a year or two before. We feel confident, therefore, from this chain of argument, that the _two parts_ of _Henry the Sixth_ included in our catalogue, were not brought on the stage before 1592, and then only just in time to enable poor Greene to express his sentiments ere he left this sublunary scene.

The plan which Mr. Malone has adopted in printing these plays, that of distinguishing the amended and absolutely new passages from the original and comparatively meagre text of Marlowe and his coadjutors, seems to have been caught from a hint dropped by Mr. Maurice Morgan, who, speaking of these _two_ parts of Henry VI., observes, that "they have certainly received what may be called a _thorough repair_.—I should conceive, it would not be very difficult to feel one's way through these plays, and distinguish every where the metal from the clay."[295:A]

It will not be denied that the task thus suggested, has been carried into execution with much skill and discrimination, and furnishes a curious proof of the plastic genius and extraordinary powers of adaptation with which our poet was gifted in the very dawn of his career. Compared with the pieces which he had hitherto produced, a style of far greater dignity, severity, and tragic modulation, was to be formed, and accordingly those portions of these plays which emanated solely or in a high degree from the mind of Shakspeare, will be found in many instances even not inferior to the best parts of his latest and most finished works, while, at the same time, they harmonise sufficiently with the general tone of his predecessors, to preclude any flagrant breach of unity and consistency in the character of the diction and versification, though, to a practised critic, the superiority of our author, both in the fluency of his metre, and the beauty and facility of his expression, may be readily discerned.

Contrary to the common opinion, a strong and correct delineation of character appears to us the most striking feature in the two parts of this historical drama. That sainted, but powerless phantom, Henry of Lancaster, interests our feelings, notwithstanding the imbecillities of his public conduct, by the pious endurance of his sufferings, and the philosophic pathos of his sentiments. How much his patient sorrow and plaintive morality, depicted as they are amid the desolations of warfare, arrest and fascinate our attention by the power of contrast, perhaps no apathy can refuse to acknowledge. Mournfully sweet, indeed, are the strains which flow from this unhappy monarch, when, for an instant retired from the horrors of the Field of Towton, he pours forth the anguish of his soul, and closes his reflections with a picture of rural repose, glowing with such a mellow and lovely light amid the shades of regal misery which surround it, as to awaken sensations that steal through the bosom with a holy and delicious warmth.

Between this character, and that of Richard of Gloucester in the same play, what a strength of contrast! so decided is the opposition, indeed, that not a shadow, not an atom of assimilation exists. The ferocious wickedness of this hypocritical and sarcastic villain is as vividly and distinctly drawn in the _Second_ or _Last Part of Henry the Sixth_ as in the tragedy of _Richard the Third_, the soliloquies in Acts the third and fifth as clearly developing the structure of his mind as any scene of the play distinguished by his regal title.

Nor do the other leading personages of these dramas exhibit less striking touches of the strong characterisation peculiar to our poet. The portraits of King Edward, and Queen Margaret, of the Dukes of York and Warwick, of Humphrey of Gloster and Cardinal Beaufort, are alike faithful to history and to nature, while the death of the ambitious prelate is unparalleled for its awful sublimity, its terrific delineation of a tortured conscience; a scene, of which the impressions are so overpowering, that, to adopt the language of Dr. Johnson, "the superficial reader cannot miss them, the profound can image nothing beyond them."[297:A]

As these two parts, therefore, whether we consider the original text, or the numerous alterations and additions of Shakspeare, hold a rank greatly superior to the elder play of

"Henry the sixth in swaddling bands crown'd king,"

a production which, at the same time, offers no trace of any finishing strokes from the master-bard, it would be but doing justice to the original design of Shakspeare to insert for the future in his works only the two pieces which he remodelled, designating them as they are found in this arrangement, and which seems, indeed, merely a restoration of their first titles. This may the more readily be done, as there appears no necessary connection between the elder drama, and those of Shakspeare on the same reign; whereas between the two plays of our author, and between them and his _Richard the Third_, not only an intimate union, but a regular series of unbroken action subsists.

If, however, it should be thought convenient to have the old play of _Henry the Sixth_ within the reach of reference, let it be placed in an Appendix to the poet's works, dislodging for that purpose the disgusting Tragedy of _Titus Andronicus_, which has hitherto, to the disgrace of our national literature, and of our noblest writer, accompanied every edition aspiring to be complete, from the folio of 1623 to the re-impression of 1813!

5. A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM: 1593. In endeavouring to ascertain the order in which Shakspeare's plays were written, it would seem a duty, on the part of the chronologist, where no passage positively indicates the contrary, not to attribute to the poet the composition of several pieces during the course of the same year; for, admitting the fertility of our author to have been, what it unquestionably was, very great, still, without some certain date annihilating all room for conjecture, it would be a gross violation of probability to ascribe even to him the production of _four_ or even _three_ of his capital productions, and such productions too, in the space of but twelve months. This, however, has been done, in their respective arrangements, twice by Mr. Malone, and six times by Mr. Chalmers, the latter gentleman having allotted to our dramatist not less than seventeen plays in the course of only five years! Surely such an attribution is, of itself, sufficient to stagger the most willing credulity, particularly when we find that, during the course of this period, occupying the years 1595, 1596, 1597, 1598, and 1599, four such plays as the following are appropriated to one year, that of 1597,—_Henry IV. the Second Part_, _Henry V._, _The Merchant of Venice_, and _Hamlet_. Now as these pieces, so far from resembling the light and rapid sketches of Lopez de la Vega or of Heywood, are among the most elaborate of our author's productions, and as no data with any pretensions to certainty can be adduced for the assignment in question, we must be allowed, notwithstanding the ingenuity and indefatigable research of Mr. Chalmers, to doubt the propriety of his chronological system.[298:A]

Acting, therefore, on this idea, that where no _decisive_ evidence to the contrary is apparent, not more than two plays should be assigned to our bard in the compass of one year, and being firmly persuaded, from the argument which has been brought forward, that the _two parts_ of _Henry the Sixth_ were the product of the year 1592, while, at the same time, we agree with the majority of the commentators in considering the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_ as an early composition, it has been thought most consonant to probability to give to the latter, in lieu of the epoch of 1592, or 1595, or 1598, its present intermediate station; and this has been done, even though the plays on Henry the Sixth, being built on the basis of other writers, cannot be supposed to have occupied so much of the poet's time as more original efforts.

The _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, then, is the first play which exhibits the imagination of Shakspeare in all its fervid and creative power; for though, as mentioned in Meres's catalogue, as having numerous scenes of continued rhyme, as being barren in fable, and defective in strength of character, it may be pronounced the offspring of youth and inexperience, it will ever in point of fancy be considered as equal to any subsequent drama of the poet.

There is, however, a light in which the best plays of Shakspeare should be viewed, which will, in fact, convert the supposed defects of this exquisite sally of sportive invention into positive excellence. A _unity of feeling_ most remarkably pervades and regulates their entire structure, and the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, a title in itself declaratory of the poet's object and aim, partakes of this bond, or principle of coalescence, in a very peculiar degree. It is, indeed, a fabric of the most buoyant and aërial texture, floating as it were between earth and heaven, and tinted with all the magic colouring of the rainbow,

"The earth hath bubbles as the water has, And this is of them."

In a piece thus constituted, where the imagery of the most wild and fantastic dream is actually embodied before our eyes, where the principal agency is carried on by beings lighter than the gossamer, and smaller than the cowslip's bell, whose elements are the moon-beams and the odoriferous atmosphere of flowers, and whose sport it is

"To dance in ringlets on the whistling wind,"

it was necessary, in order to give a filmy and consistent legerity to every part of the play, that the human agents should partake of the same evanescent and visionary character; accordingly both the higher and lower personages of this drama are the subjects of illusion and enchantment, and love and amusement their sole occupation; the transient perplexities of thwarted passion, and the grotesque adventures of humorous folly, touched as they are with the tenderest or most frolic pencil, blending admirably with the wild, sportive, and romantic tone of the scenes where

"Trip the light fairies and the dapper elves,"

and forming together a whole so variously yet so happily interwoven, so racy and effervescent in its composition, of such exquisite levity and transparency, and glowing with such luxurious and phosphorescent splendour, as to be perfectly without a rival in dramatic literature.

Nor is this piece, though, from the nature of its fable, unproductive of any _strong_ character, without many pleasing discriminations of passion and feeling. Mr. Malone asks if "a single passion be agitated by the faint and childish solicitudes of Hermia and Demetrius, of Helena and Lysander, those shadows of each other?"[300:A] Now, whatever may be thought of Demetrius and Lysander, the characters of Hermia and Helena are beautifully drawn, and finely contrasted, and in much of the dialogue which occurs between them, the chords both of love and pity are touched with the poet's wonted skill. In their interview in the wood, the contrariety of their dispositions is completely developed; Hermia is represented as

————————— "keen and shrewd: —— a vixen, when she went to school, And, though but little, fierce,"

and in her difference with her friend, threatens to scratch her eyes out with her nails, while Helena, meek, humble, and retired, sues for protection, and endeavours in the most gentle manner to deprecate her wrath:

"I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me: I was never curst; I have no gift at all in shrewishness; I am a right maid for my cowardice; Let her not strike me:—— Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;— And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back, And follow you no further: Let me go: You see how simple and how fond I am."

And in an earlier part of this scene, where Helena first suspects that her friend had conspired with Demetrius and Lysander to mock and deride her, nothing can more exquisitely paint her affectionate temper, and the heartfelt pangs of severing friendship, than the following lines, most touching in their appeal, an echo from the very bosom of nature itself:—

"Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!— Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us,—O, and is all forgot? All school-day's friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our neelds created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted; But yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem: So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;— And will you rent our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it; Though I alone do feel the injury."

Of the _Fairy Mythology_ which constitutes the principal and most efficient part of this beautiful drama, it is the more necessary that we should take particular notice, as it forms not only a chief feature of the superstitions of the age, but was, in fact, re-modelled and improved by the genius of our poet.

The utmost confusion has in general overshadowed this subject, from mixing the _Oriental_ with the _Gothic_ system of fabling, the voluptuous or monstrous Fairies of eastern and southern romance, with those of the popular superstition of the north of Europe; two races in all their features remarkably distinct, and productive of two very opposite styles both of imagery and literature.

The poets and romance writers of Spain, Italy, and France, have evidently derived the imaginary beings whom they term _Fairies_, whether of the benignant or malignant species, from the mythology of Persia and Arabia. The channel for this stream of fiction was long open through the medium of the crusades, and the dominion of the Moors of Spain, more especially when the language of these invaders became, during the middle ages, the vehicle of science and general information. Hence we find the strongest affinity between the _Peri_ and _Dives_ of the Persians, and the two orders of the _Genii_ of the Arabians, and the _Fairies_ and _Demons_ of the south of Europe.

The _Peri_, or as the word would be pronounced in Arabic, the _Fairi_, of the Persians, are represented as females of the most exquisite beauty, uniformly kind and benevolent in their disposition, of the human form and size, and, though not limited to our transient existence, subject to death. They are supposed to inhabit a region of their own, to play in the plighted clouds, to luxuriate in the hues of the rainbow, and to live upon the exhalations of the jessamine and the rose.[303:A]

Contrasted with these lovely essences, the _Dives_ are described as males of the most hideous aspect and ferocious temper; in their stature, monstrous, deformed, and abominable; in their habits, wicked, cruel, and unrelenting.

Very similar in their attributes, but with less beauty and brilliancy in the delineation of the amiable species, were the _good_ and _bad Genii_ of the Arabians; and, as in Persia, a _Genistan_, or Fairy-land, was allotted to the benignant class.

From these sources, then, is to be deduced that tone of fiction which pervades the romantic and poetical literature of the warmer European climates, especially in all that relates to the fair and beautiful of Oriental conception. In the _Fairies_ of BOIARDO and ARIOSTO, in the metrical and prose romances of France and Spain, and in the Lays of MARIE; in their _Fata Morgana_, _Urgande_, and _Mourgue La Faye_, and in the _superhuman mistresses_ of _Sir Launfale_ and _Sir Gruelan_, we readily discern their Persian prototype, the Peri, _Mergian Banou_.[303:B]

And to this cast of fiction, derived through the medium of the Italians, was _Spenser_ indebted for the form and colouring which he has appropriated to his Fairies; beings, however, still more aloof from the Gothic popular elves than even the supernatural agents of the bards of Italy, as connecting with their orientalism, a continued allegorical, and, consequently, a totally abstract character.

For the origin, therefore, or _prima stamina_ of the _Fairies of Shakspeare_, and of _British popular tradition_, we must turn to a very different quarter, even so far northward as to _Scandinavia_, the land of our Gothic progenitors. The establishment of the two kingdoms of the Ostrogoths and Wisigoths, on the shores of the Euxine Sea, by colonies from the Scandick peninsula, took place at a very early period, and the consequence of these settlements was the speedy invasion and conquest of the southern provinces of the Roman empire; for Denmark and Germany having submitted to the arms of the Goths, these restless warriors seized upon Spain in 409, entered Italy and captured Rome in 410, invaded France in 412, and commenced their conquest of England in 447. Upon all these countries, but most permanently upon England, did they impose their language, and a large portion of their superstitions. Such were their influence and success, indeed, in this island, that they not only compelled us to embrace their religious rites, but totally superseded our former manners and customs, and planted for ever in our mouths a diction radically distinct from that to which we had been accustomed, a diction which includes to this day a vocabulary of terms relative to our poetical and superstitious creeds which is alike common to both nations.[304:A]

Long, therefore, ere the Arabians began to disseminate their literature from the walls of Cordova, were the Goths in full possession not only of the Spanish peninsula, where their empire attained its height in the year 500, but of the greater part of this island. The Moors, it is well known, did not enter Spain until 712, consequently the Scandinavian emigrants had the opportunity of three centuries in that fine country, for the gradual propagation of their poetical credulity. Long, also, before the Crusades, the second supposed source of oriental superstition, could produce their imagined effect, are we able to trace the Fairy Mythology of the Goths in all its essential features. The first Crusade, under Godfrey, terminated in the capture of Jerusalem in July 1099, and the speediest return of any of its adventurers may be ascribed to the year 1100; but so early as 863 do we find the belief of the Fairies established in Norway, and even introduced into our own country at an epoch as remote as the year 1013. The metrical fragments of Thiodolf, bard to Harold Fairhair, who ascended the throne of Norway in 863, bear testimony to the first of these assertions. Thiodolf was an antiquary of such pre-eminence, that on his poetry was founded the early history of his country, and among the reliques of his composition is one recording an adventure of Svegder, the fourth King of Sweden, which clearly proves that _Fairies_ and _Fairy-land_ had even then become a portion of the popular creed. Svegder is represented as having made a vow to seek Fairy-land, and Odin, from whom he was descended. For this purpose he traverses, with twelve chosen companions, the wastes of the Greater Scythia; but, after consuming five years in vain in the pursuit, he returns home disappointed. In a second attempt, however, he is, unfortunately for himself, successful. In the east of Scythia rises suddenly from the plain so vast a mass of rock, that it assumes the appearance of an immense structure or palace. Passing by this pile with his friends, one evening after sunset, having freely enjoyed the pleasures of the banquet, Svegder was surprised to behold a _Dwergur_, a _Fairy_ or _Dwarf_, sitting at the foot of the rock. Inflamed by wine, he and his companions boldly advanced towards the elf, who, then standing in the gates or portal of the pile, addressed the king, commanding him to enter if he wished to converse with Odin. The monarch, rushing forward, had scarcely passed the opening of the rock, when its portal closed upon him and the treacherous Fairy for ever![305:A]

That the diminutive Being here introduced was of the race of Fairies, subsequently described in the Volupsa of Sæmund under the appellation of Duergs or _Swart-Elves_, and who were placed under the direction of two superiors called _Motsogner_ and _Durin_[306:A], is evident from the Gothic original of Thiodolf's fragment, which opens by declaring that this being who guarded the entrance of the enchanted cave, was one of the followers of _Durin_, who shrank from the light of day; and then immediately classes him with the Dwergs[306:B], an appellative which the Latin translators have rendered by the terms _pygmæi_ and _nani_, _pygmies_ and _dwarfs_.

That the fairy mythology of the Goths must have been known to this island about the year 1013, appears from a song composed by _Sigvatur_, who accompanied Canute to England as his favourite bard, on the invasion of his father Swain at the above era. Sigvatur describes himself as warned away from a cottage by its housewife, who, sitting at the threshold, vehemently forbids his approach, as she was preparing a propitiatory banquet of blood for the Fairies, with the view of driving the _war-wolf_ from her doors.[306:C] The word in the original here used for the Fairies, is _Alfa_, _Elves_, a designation which we shall find in the Edda applied generically to the whole tribe, however distinct in their functions or mode of existence.

Not only can we prove, indeed, the priority and high antiquity of the Gothic fairy superstitions on the unquestioned authority of Thiodolf and Sigvatur, but we can substantiate also the very material fact, that the scattered features of this mythology were collected and formed into a perfect system nearly a quarter of a century before any of the first crusaders could return to Europe. About the year 1077, _Sæmund_ compiled the first or Metrical Edda, containing, among other valuable documents, the "Voluspa," a poem whose language indicates a very remote origin[307:A], and where we find a minute and accurate description of the _Duergar_ or Fairies, who are divided into two classes, of which the individuals are even carefully named and enumerated, a catalogue which is augmented in the _Prose Edda_ composed by _Snorro_ in 1215[307:B], and still further increased in the "_Scalda_," written, it is supposed, about a year or two afterwards.

Having thus endeavoured to show that the _Fairy Superstitions_ of the Goths were possessed of an antiquity sufficiently great to have procured their propagation through the medium of Scandinavian conquest and colonisation, long anterior to any oriental source, and that the genius of eastern fabling, when subsequently introduced into the south, was of a character totally distinct from the popular superstition of the north of Europe, we hasten to place before the reader a short sketch of the genealogy, attributes, and offices of the Gothic elves, in order that we may compare them with their poetical offspring, the popular fairies of Britain, and thence be able to appreciate the various modifications and improvements which the system received from the creative imagination of Shakspeare.

Under the term _Norner_ the ancient Goths included two species of preternatural beings of a diminutive size, the _Godar Norner_, or _Beneficent Elves_, and the _Illar Norner_, or _Malignant Elves_. Among the earliest bards of Scandinavia, in the Voluspa, and in the Edda of Snorro, these distinctions are accurately maintained, though under various appellations, either alluding to their habits, their moral nature, or their external appearance. The most common nomenclature, or division, however, was into _Liös-alfar_, or _Bright Elves_, and _Suart-alfar_, or _Dock-alfar Swart_, or _Black Elves_, the former belonging to the _Alfa-ættar_, or tribe of alfs, fauns, or elves, the latter to the _Duerga-ættar_, or tribe of _Dwarfs_.[308:A]

The _Alfs_ and _Dwergs_, therefore, the _Fairies_ and the _Dwarfs_, or, in other words, the _Bright_ and the _Swart Elves_ of Scandinavia form, together with a somewhat larger species which we shall have occasion shortly to mention, the whole of the machinery of whose origin we are in search.

Of this _Alfa-folch_, _Elfin-folk_, or _Fairy-people_, the _Liös-alfar_, or _Bright Elves_, were supposed to be aërial spirits, of a beautiful aspect, sporting in the purest ether, and inhabiting there a region called _Alf-heimur_, Elf-ham, or Elf-home. Their intercourse with mortals was always beneficent and propitious, and when they presided at a nativity, happiness and prosperity were their boon.[308:A] They visited the cottages of the virtuous and industrious poor, blessing and assisting their efforts[309:A], and danced in mazy rounds by moonlight on the dewy grass, to the sound of the most enchanting music, leaving on the sward circular and distinct traces of their footsteps of a beautiful and lively green, vestiges of what in the Swedish language was called the _Elf-dans_, a word which has been naturalised in our own tongue.[309:B] The bright elves were also considered as propitious to women in labour, and desirous of undertaking all the duties of the cradle[309:C]; in short, wherever a fairy of this species was found, whether in the palace, the cottage, or the mine, it was always distinguished by a series of kind or useful offices.

In almost every respect the reverse of this benevolent race were the _Suart-alfar_, or _Swart Elves_, who were neither spirits nor mortals, but of an intermediate nature, dwelling in the bowels of the earth, in mountains, caves, or barrows, of the same diminutive size as the bright elves, but unpleasing in their features, and though sometimes fair in their complexions, often dark and unlovely.[309:D] They were the dispensers of misfortune, and consequently their attendance at a birth became the harbinger of a predominating portion of [310:A]evil; mischief, indeed, either in sport or anger, seems to have been their favourite employment. They, like those of the more friendly tribe, visited the surface of the earth at midnight, but the circular tracery of their revels was distinguished from the green ringlets of the beneficent kind, by the ground being burnt and blasted wherever their footsteps had been impressed.[310:B]

Among this species was also classed the _Incubus_, by the Scandinavians termed _Mara_, _Meyar_, or the _Mare_; by the Saxons _Alf_ or _Alp_; by the Franconians _Drud_[310:C], a fairy who haunted those who slept, and oppressed them by sitting on their chest. This elf was likewise considered as exerting a baneful influence at _noon-time_ over those who heedlessly gave themselves to sleep in the fields, and was deemed particularly dangerous, at this hour, to pregnant women.[310:D] To the mischievous power of these _Swart-elves_ was also ascribed, by the Gothic nations, the loss or exchange of children, who were borne away from the parental roof previous to the rites of baptism, and oftentimes an idiotic or deformed bantling was substituted in the place of the stolen infant.[310:E] Generally were they found, indeed, spiteful and malicious in all their agency with mankind, whether in a playful or a serious mood; frequently injuring or destroying the cattle, riding the horses, plaiting their manes in knots, terrifying and leading wandering or benighted peasants astray, by voices, cries, by peals of laughter or delusive lights.[311:A]

With all these evil propensities, however, they are uniformly represented by our Northern ancestors as singularly ingenious, and endowed with great mechanical skill, particularly that variety of the _Suart-alfar_ termed _Bergmanlein_ or Mountain-dwarfs, who were believed to inhabit caves and mines and barrows[311:B], and to be frequently and audibly employed in forging swords and armour of such excellent temper and strength as to be proof not only against the usual accidents of warfare, but against all the arts of magic and incantation.[311:C] This craft was denominated _Duerga Smithi_, or _Fairy-Smithery_[311:D], and was sometimes exercised in the formation of enchanted rings, and of automata which by the proper management of secret springs would transport their conductors through the air.[311:E] By the Swedes and Germans, also, these subterranean dwarfs, _virunculi montani_, were supposed to be sometimes busy in the laborious occupation of excavating the rocks, and to be occasionally useful to the miners in detecting latent veins of ore; but their agency was more generally deemed pernicious, and they were held to be the artificers of accident, the raisers of exhalations, and the exploders of the fire-damp.[312:A] It should also be added, that, as the frequent inmates of barrows and sepulchral vaults, they were considered as the guardians of hidden treasures, which they protected under the form of diminutive old men with corrugated faces[312:B]; while as the haunters of the mine, they affected the dress of the workmen, appearing in a shirt or frock, with a leathern apron.[312:C]

Beside these two species of the fairy tribe, the _Bright_ and _Swart Elves_, a larger kind was acknowledged by the ancient Germans, under the appellations of _Guteli_ and _Trulli_, who were esteemed not only harmless, but so friendly to mankind, that they delighted in performing the domestic offices of the household, such as cleaning the dishes, bringing in wood, grooming the horses, &c.[312:D], labouring chiefly in the night-time, and often assuming the human stature, form, and garb.[312:E]

Such are the leading features of the Fairy Mythology of the Goths, which appears to have been introduced into Britain as early as the eleventh century, and to have gradually become a part of the popular creed, though subsequently modified by the influence of Christianity, by the intermixture of classical associations, the prevalence of feudal manners, and other causes. Accordingly, we find Gervase of Tilbury, in the thirteenth century, detailing, in his _Otia Imperialia_, many of the peculiar superstitions of the Scandinavian system as common to this country; and in the following age, Chaucer, impressed with the high antiquity of these fables, refers even to the age of Arthur as the period of their full dominion:—

"In old Dayes of the King Artour Of which that Bretons speken gret honour, All was this Lond fulfilled of Faerie, The Elf-Quene with hire jolie company Daunsed full oft in many a grene mede, This was the old opinion as I rede. I speke of many hundred yeres agoe."[313:A]

After the death of Chaucer, indeed, who treated these beautiful credulities with a pleasant vein of ridicule, the fate of the Gothic System of Fairies seems to have been considerably different in two opposite quarters of our island; for, while in Scotland the original character of this mythology, and especially that of its harsher features, was closely preserved, it received in England, and principally through the medium of our great dramatic bard, a milder aspect, and a more fanciful and sportive texture. The dissimilarity thus resulting has been noticed by a late elegant tourist, who observes, that "the Scottish Fairy is described with more terrific attributes than are to be found in the traces of a belief in such beings in England[313:B];" a remark which is corroborated by Mr. Scott, who, after noticing this stricter retention of the ancient character of the Gothic Fairy in North Britain, assigns two causes for its occurrence, the enmity of the Presbyterian clergy to this supposed "_light infantry of Satan_," and the aspect of the country, "as we should naturally attribute," he adds, "a less malicious disposition, and a less frightful appearance, to the fays who glide by moon-light through the oaks of Windsor, than to those who haunt the solitary heaths and lofty mountains of the North."[313:C] In fact, while the English, through Shakspeare, seem chiefly to have adopted and improved that part of the Gothic Mythology which relates to the _Bright_ or _Benignant_ race of Fairies, the Scotch have, with few exceptions, received and fostered that wilder and more gloomy portion of the creed which developes the agency and disposition of the _Swart_ or _Malignant_ tribe. A short detail, therefore, of the two systems, as they appear to have existed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, if compared with the features of the Scandinavian Mythology which we have just enumerated, will exhaust the subject of our present enquiry, placing the sources of our popular superstitions on these topics, and the poetical embellishments of Shakspeare, in a perspicuous point of view.

Of the _Scottish Elves_, two kinds have been uniformly handed down by tradition, the _Fair_ and the _Swart_, but both are alike represented as prone to evil, and analogous therefore to the _Illar Norner_, or _Evil Fairies_ of the Scandinavians. They were also often termed the _Good Neighbours_ or _People_, as a kind of deprecatory compliment, in order to soften and appease the malignancy of their temper.[314:A] In a rare treatise written towards the close of the seventeenth century, by Mr. Robert Kirk, minister at Aberfoill, and entitled, "The Nature and Actions of the Subterranean, and for the most part, Invisible People, heretofoir going under the Name of _Elves_, _Faunes_, and _Fairies_, or the lyke, &c. &c.[314:B]," a very curious detail is given of the _Fairy Superstitions_ of Scotland, as they have prevailed in that country, from the earliest period to the year 1690, a work which we may safely take as our text and guide in delineating the character of the _Scottish Fairy_, as it existed in the days of Shakspeare.

To the gloomy and unhallowed _nature_ and _disposition_ of these North British Elves, Mr. Kirk bears the most unqualified testimony:—"These _Siths_ or Fairies," he observes, "they call _Sleagh Maith_, or the _Good People_, it would seem, to prevent the dint of their _ill_ Atempts, (for the Irish use to bless all they fear Harme of;) and are said to be of a middle Nature betuixt Man and Angel, as were Dæmons thought to be of old;—they are said to have no discernible Religion, Love, or Devotion towards God, the blessed Maker of all: they disappear whenever they hear his Name invocked, or the Name of Jesus, nor can they act ought at that Time after hearing of that sacred Name.—Some say their _continual Sadnesse_ is because of their pendulous state, as uncertain what at the last Revolution will become of them, when they are locked up into ane unchangeable Condition; and if they have any frolic Fitts of Mirth, 'tis as the constrained grinning of a Mort-head, or rather as acted on a stage, and moved by another, ther (than?) cordially comeing of themselves."[315:A]

Of their _dress_ and _weapons_ he gives us the following account:— "Their Apparell is like that of the People and Countrey under which they live: so are they seen to wear Plaids and variegated Garments in the Highlands of Scotland, and Suanochs therefore in Ireland."[315:B]—"Their Weapons are most what solid earthly Bodies, nothing of Iron, but much of Stone, like to yellow, soft Flint-spa, shaped like a barbed Arrow-head, but flung like a Dairt, with great force. These Armes (cut by Airt and Tools it seems beyond humane) have somewhat of the Nature of Thunderbolt subtilty, and mortally wounding the vital Parts without breaking the skin."[315:C]

This description of the weapons, garb, disposition, and nature of the Gaelic, Highland, or Scoto-Irish Fairies, equally applies to the more elegant race which haunted the cheerful and cultivated districts of Caledonia; for Mr. Cromek, painting the character of the Scottish Lowland Fairies, from the popular belief of Nithsdale and Galloway, tinges it with the same fearful attributes and mischievous propensities:—"They were small of stature," he relates, "exquisitely shaped and proportioned; of a fair complexion, with long fleeces of yellow hair flowing over their shoulders, and tucked above their brows with combs of gold. A mantle of green cloth, inlaid with wild flowers, reached to their middle;—green pantaloons, buttoned with bobs of silk, and sandals of silver, formed their under dress. On their shoulders hung quivers of adder slough, stored with pernicious arrows; and bows, fashioned from the rib of a man, buried where _three Lairds' lands meet_, tipped with gold, ready bent for warfare, were slung by their sides. Thus accoutred they mounted on steeds, whose hoofs would not print the new plowed land, nor dash the dew from the cup of a hare-bell. They visited the flock, the folds, the fields of coming grain, and the habitations of men;—and woe to the mortal whose frailty threw him in their power!—A flight of arrows, tipped with deadly plagues, were poured into his folds; and nauseous weeds grew up in his pastures; his coming harvest was blighted with pernicious breath,—and whatever he had no longer prospered. These fatal shafts were formed of the bog reed, pointed with white field flint, and dipped in the dew of hemlock. They were shot into cattle with such magical dexterity that the smallest aperture could not be discovered, but by those deeply skilled in fairy warfare, and in the cure of elf-shooting. Cordials and potent charms are applied; the burning arrow is extracted, and instant recovery ensues. The fairies seem to have been much attached to particular places. A green hill;—an opening in a wood;—a burn just freeing itself from the Uplands, were kept sacred for revelry and festival. The Ward-law, an ever green hill in Dalswinton Barony, was, in olden days, a noted Fairy tryste. But the Fairy ring being converted into a pulpit, in the times of persecution, proscribed the revelry of unchristened feet. Lamentations of no earthly voices were heard for years around this beloved hill."[317:A]

The latter part of this quotation alludes to a very prominent part of Scottish fairy superstition, the _haunts_ or _habitations_ of the _Elf-folk_, and their _Court_ or _Fairy-land_, a species of fiction which, as we have seen, makes a striking figure in the Scandinavian mythology, and probably furnished Chaucer with his adventure of [317:B]_Sir Thopas_. The _local appropriation_ of Fairies, however, though common enough in England, has been more minutely marked and described in Scotland. Green hills, mountain-lakes, romantic glens, and inaccessible falls of water, were more peculiarly their favourite haunts, whilst the wilderness or forest wild was deemed the regular entrance to _Elf-land_ or the Court of Faery. "There be many Places," says Kirk, "called Fairie-hills, which the Mountain People think impious and dangerous to peel or discover, by taking earth or wood from them;" and, speaking in another place of their habitations, he adds, they "are called large and fair, and (unless att some odd occasions) unperceaveable by vulgar eyes, like Rachland and other inchanted Islands, having fir Lights, continual Lamps, and Fires, often seen without Fuel to sustain them," confirming the account by the instance of a female neighbour of his, who, being conveyed to Elf-land, "found the Place full of Light, without any Fountain or Lamp from whence it did spring."[318:A]

"Lakes and pits, on the tops of mountains," remarks Dr. Leyden, were "regarded with a degree of superstitious horror, as the porches or entrances of the subterraneous habitations of the fairies; from which confused murmurs, the cries of children, moaning voices, the ringing of bells, and the sounds of musical instruments, are often supposed to be heard. Round these hills, the green fairy circles are believed to wind, in a spiral direction, till they reach the descent to the central cavern; so that, if the unwary traveller be benighted on the charmed ground, he is inevitably conducted, by an invisible power, to the fearful descent."[318:B]

That a similar partiality was shown by these fairy people to the site of secluded waterfalls, is recorded in the Statistical Account of Scotland, where the minister of Dumfries, after describing a Linn formed by the water of the Crichup, as inaccessible to real beings, observes, that it had anciently been "considered as the habitation of imaginary ones; and at the entrance into it there was a curious Cell or Cave, called the _Elf's Kirk_, where, according to the superstition of the times, the imaginary inhabitants of the Linn were supposed to hold their meetings."[318:C]

But, independent of these numerous occasional residences of the fairy tribe, a firm belief in the existence of a fixed court, or _Elf-land_ peculiarly so denominated, as the centre of their empire and the abode of their Queen, was so prevalent in Scotland, during the sixteenth century, as to have been acted upon in a court of justice. A woman named _Alison Pearson_ having been convicted, on the 28th of May, 1586, of holding intercourse with and visiting the Queen of Elf-land; "for hanting and repairing," says the indictment, "with the gude neighbours, and Queene of Elfland, thir divers years by past, as she had confest; and that she had friends in that court, which were of her own blude, who had gude acquaintance of the Queene of Elfland,—and that she was seven years ill handled in the Court of Elfland[319:A]," and for this notable crime was the poor creature burnt to death!

When such was the credulity of a bench of judges, we need not wonder that Fairy Land had become a professed article of the poetical creed, and that Lindsay in 1560, and Montgomery in 1584, should allude to it as a subject of admitted notoriety: thus the former, in his _Complaynt of the Papingo_, says

"Bot sen my spreit mon from my bodye go, I recommend it to the Quene of Fary, Eternally into her court to tarry In wilderness amang the holtis hair;"[319:B]

and the latter, in his _Flyting against Polwart_, speaking of Hallow'een, tells us, that

"The king of Pharie and his court, with the elf queen, With many elfish incubus was ridand that night."[319:C]

According to the _Tale of the Young Tamlane_, a poem in its original state coeval with the _Complaynt of Scotland_, and on the authority of the _Ballad of Thomas the Rhymer_, said also to be of considerable antiquity[319:D], Elf-land is represented as a terrestrial paradise, the opening of the road to which was in the desert

"Where living land was left behind;"

it is described as a "bonny road" "that winds about the fernie brae," but the roaring of the sea is heard in the descent, and at length the traveller wades knee-deep through rivers of blood,

"For a' the blude that's shed on earth, Rins thro' the springs o' that countrie;"[320:A]

yet, when arrived, the land is full of pleasantness, a garden of the loveliest green, self-illumined, and whose halls have roofs of beaten gold, and floors of purest chrystal.[320:B]

In conformity to these Scottish traditionary features of Fairy-land, and in reference to the popular tale of Thomas the Rhymer, who, daring to salute the Fairy Queen, was carried off in early life to this region of enchantment, and there broke the vow of silence enjoined on all who entered its precincts[320:C], Dr. Leyden has executed the following glowing picture:—

"The fairy ring-dance now, round Eildon-tree, Moves to wild strains of elfin minstrelsy: On glancing step appears the fairy queen;— Or, graceful mounted on her palfrey gray, In robes, that glister like the sun in May, With hawk and hounds she leads the moon-light ranks, Of knights and dames, to Huntly's ferny banks, Where Rymour, long of yore, the nymph embraced, The first of men unearthly lips to taste. Rash was the vow, and fatal was the hour, Which gave a mortal to a fairy's power! A lingering leave he took of sun and moon; —Dire to the minstrel was the fairy's boon!— A sad farewell of grass and green-leaved tree, The haunts of childhood doomed no more to see. Through winding paths, that never saw the sun, Where Eildon hides his roots in caverns dun, They pass,—the hollow pavement, as they go, Rocks to remurmuring waves, that boil below; Silent they wade, where sounding torrents lave The banks, and red the tinge of every wave; For all the blood, that dyes the warrior's hand, Runs through the thirsty springs of Fairy land. Level and green the downward region lies, And low the cieling of the fairy skies; Self-kindled gems a richer light display Than gilds the earth, but not a purer day. Resplendent crystal forms the palace wall; The diamonds trembling lustre lights the hall: But where soft emeralds shed an umber'd light, Beside each coal-black courser sleeps a knight; A raven plume waves o'er each helmed crest, And black the mail, which binds each manly breast, Girt with broad faulchion, and with bugle green— Ah! could a mortal trust the fairy queen! From mortal lips an earthly accent fell, And Rymour's tongue confess'd the numbing spell: In iron sleep the minstrel lies forlorn, Who breathed a sound before he blew the horn."[321:A]

No spell, however, could bind the Fairies themselves to their own domain; an eternal restlessness seems to have been their doom; "they remove," says Kirk, in a passage singularly curious, "to other Lodgings at the Beginning of each Quarter of the Year, so traversing till Doomsday, being imputent and (_impotent of?_) staying in one Place, and finding some Ease by so purning (_journeying_) and changing Habitations. Their chamœlion-lyke Bodies swim in the Air near the Earth with Bag and Bagadge; and at such revolution of Time, SEERS, or MEN OF THE SECOND SIGHT, (Fœmales being seldome so qualified) have very terrifying Encounters with them, even on High Ways; who therefoir uswally shune to travell abroad at these four Seasons of the Year, and thereby have made it a Custome to this day among the Scottish-Irish to keep Church duely evry first Sunday of the Quarter to sene or hallow themselves, their Corns and Cattell, from the Shots and Stealth of these wandering Tribes; and many of these superstitious People will not be seen in Church againe till the nixt Quarter begin, as if no Duty were to be learned or done by them, but all the use of Worship and Sermons were to save them from these Arrows that fly in the dark."[322:A]

Beside these quarterly migrations, an annual procession of the Fairy Court was supposed to take place on Hallowe'en, to which we have alluded in a former part of this work (vol. i. p. 342.), when describing the superstitions peculiar to certain periods of the year. A similar ceremony, though not upon so large a scale, was also believed, among the peasantry of Nithsdale, to occur at [322:B]Roodsmass; but the most common appearance of the Fairy in Scotland, as elsewhere, was conceived to be by moon-light, dancing in a circle, and leaving behind either a scorched, or a deep green, ringlet; nor was the period of noon-day scarcely deemed less dangerous than the noon of night; for, during both, the Fairies were imagined to exert a baneful power; in sleep, producing the oppression termed the _Night-mare_[323:A], and, even at mid-day, weaving their pernicious spells, and subjecting to their power all who were tempted to repose on the rock, bank, hillock, or near the tree which they frequented.

Persons thus unfortunately situated, who had ventured within the fairy-circle after sunset, who had slept at noon upon a fairy-hill, or who, in an evil hour, had been devoted to the infernal powers, by the curses of a parent, were liable to be borne away to Elf-land for a period of seven years:—

"Woe to the upland swain, who, wandering far, The circle treads, beneath the evening star! His feet the witch-grass green impels to run, Full on the dark descent, he strives to shun; Till, on the giddy brink, o'erpower'd by charms, The Fairies clasp him, in unhallow'd arms, Doom'd, with the crew of restless foot, to stray The earth by night, the nether realms by day; Till seven long years their dangerous circuit run, And call the wretch to view this upper sun."[324:A]

Pregnant and child-bed women were considered, as in Germany, peculiarly in danger of being stolen by the Fairies at noon-day, and various preventive charms were adopted against this abstraction. "The Tramontains to this day," says Kirk, speaking of "Women yet alive, who tell they were taken away when in Child-bed to nurse Fairie Children," "put bread, the Bible, or a piece of Iron, in Women's Bed when travelling, to save them from being thus stolen."[324:B]

Of the capture and subjection of those who had been devoted by execration, several instances are related both by Scotch and English writers[324:C]; but the most general mode of abstraction practised by the Elvish race, was that of stealing or exchanging children, and so commonly was this species of theft apprehended in the Highlands of Scotland, that it was customary to watch children until the christening was over[324:D], under the idea, that the power of the Fairies, owing to the original corruption of human nature, was chiefly to be dreaded in the interval between birth and baptism. The Beings substituted for the healthy offspring of man were apparently idiots, monstrous and decrepid in their form, and defective in speech; and when the Fairies failed to purloin or exchange the infant, in consequence of the vigilance of its parents, it was usually found _breath-blasted_, "their unearthly breath making it wither away in every limb and lineament, like a blighted ear of corn, saving the countenance, which unchangeably retains the sacred stamp of divinity."[325:A]

The cause assigned for this evil propensity on the part of the Fairies, was the dreadful obligation they were under, of sacrificing the tenth individual to the Devil every, or every seventh year; "the teind of them," says the indictment of Alison Pearson, "are tane to hell everie year[325:B]," while the hero of the Ballad entitled The Young Tamlane, exclaims:—

"And pleasant is the Fairy land; But, an eiry tale to tell! Ay, at the end o' seven years, We pay the teind to hell."[325:C]

For the recovery of the unfortunate substitutes thus selected for the payment of their infernal tribute, various charms and contrivances were adopted, of which one of the most effectual, though the most horrible, was the assignment to the flames of the supposed changeling, which it was firmly believed would, in consequence of this treatment, disappear, and the real child return to the lap of its mother. "A beautiful child, of Caerlaveroc, in Nithsdale," relates Mr. Cromek from tradition, "on the second day of its birth, and before its baptism, was changed, none knew how, for an antiquated elf of hideous aspect. It kept the family awake with its nightly yells; biting the mother's breasts, and would neither be cradled or nursed. The mother, obliged to be from home, left it in charge to the servant girl. The poor lass was sitting bemoaning herself,—'Wer't nae for thy girning face I would knock the big, winnow the corn, and grun the meal!'—'Lowse the cradle band,' quoth the Elf, 'and tent the neighbours, an' Ill work yere wark.' Up started the elf, the wind arose, the corn was chaffed, the outlyers were foddered, the hand mill moved around, as by instinct, and the _knocking mell_ did its work with amazing rapidity. The lass, and her elfin servant, rested and diverted themselves, till, on the mistress's approach, it was restored to the cradle, and began to yell anew. The girl took the first opportunity of slyly telling her mistress the adventure. '_What'll we do wi' the wee diel?_' said she. 'I'll wirk it a pirn,' replied the lass. At the middle hour of night the chimney-top was covered up, and every inlet barred and closed. The embers were blown up until glowing hot, and the maid, undressing the elf, tossed it on the fire. It uttered the wildest and most piercing yells, and, in a moment, the Fairies were heard moaning at every wonted avenue, and rattling at the window boards, at the chimney head, and at the door. 'In the name o'God bring back the bairn,' cried the lass. The window flew up; the earthly child was laid unharmed on the mother's lap, while its grisly substitute flew up the chimney with a loud laugh."[326:A]

Another efficacious mode of re-possessing either children or adults who had been borne away by the Fairies, depended upon watching their great annual procession or _rade_ on Hallowe'en, within a year and a day of the supposed abstraction, and there seizing by force the hapless victim of their charms. This enterprise, however, which forms the chief incident in the _Tale of the Young Tamlane_, and has been mentioned in the first volume, required much courage and resolution for its successful performance, as the adventurer, regardless of all the terrors of the scene, and of all the appalling shapes which the lost person was compelled to assume, had to hold him fast, under every transformation, and until the resources of fairy magic were exhausted. Thus _Tamlane_ exclaims:—

"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, An adder and a snake; But had me fast, let me not pass, Gin ye wad be my maik.

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, An adder and an ask; They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, A bale[327:A] that burns fast.

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, A red hot gad o' iron; But had me fast, let me not pass, For I'll do you no harm.—

And next they'll shape me in your arms, A toad, but and an eel; But had me fast, nor let me gang, As you do love me weel.

They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, A dove, but and a swan; And last they'll shape me in your arms, A mother-naked man: Cast your green mantle over me— I'll be myself again."—[327:B]

That part of the Scottish fairy system which relates exclusively to the abstraction of children, has been beautifully applied by Mr. Erskine, in one of his supplemental stanzas to Collins's _Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland_, where, continuing the Address of Collins to his friend Home, he thus proceeds:—

"Then wake (for well thou can'st) that wond'rous lay, How, while around the thoughtless matrons sleep, Soft o'er the floor the treacherous fairies creep, And bear the smiling infant far away: How starts the nurse, when, for her lovely child, She sees at dawn a gaping idiot stare! O snatch the innocent from demons vilde, And save the parents fond from fell despair! In a deep cave the trusty menials wait, When from their hilly dens, at midnight's hour, Forth rush the airy elves in mimic state, And o'er the moon-light heath with swiftness scour: In glittering arms the little horsemen shine; Last, on a milk-white steed, with targe of gold, A fay of might appears, whose arms entwine The lost, lamented child! the shepherds bold The unconscious infant tear from his unhallow'd hold."[328:A]

Like the _Dwergar_ or _Swart-Elves_ of Scandinavia, the Scottish Fairies were also endowed with great mechanical powers; were often mischievously, though sometimes beneficially, active in mines, and were believed to be the guardians of hidden treasure. "The Swart Fairy of the Mine," says the Scotch Encyclopedia, "has scarce yet quitted our subterraneous works[328:B]," and Kirk speaks of "Treasure hid in a Hill called _Sith-bhruaich_, or Fayrie-hill."[328:C] It is amusing, indeed, to read the minute account which this worthy minister gives of the habits and occupations of his _Siths_ or Fairies: thus, with regard to their _speech_, _food_, and _work_, he informs us that "they speak by way of whistling, clear, not rough"—"some are fed by only sucking into some fine spirituous Liquors, that peirce lyke pure Air and Oyl: others feid more gross on the Foyson or Substance of Corns and Liquors, or Corne itselfe that grows on the Surface of the Earth, which those Fairies steall away, partly invisible, partly preying on the Grain, as do Crowes and Mice:—their Food being exactly clean, and served up by pleasant children, lyke inchanted Puppets." "They are sometimes heard to bake Bread, strike Hammers, and to do such lyke Services within the litle Hillocks they most haunt.—Ther Women are said to Spine very fine, to Dy, to Tossue and Embroyder: but whither it be as manuall Operation of substantiall refined Stuffs, with apt and solid Instruments, or only curious Cobwebs, impalpable Rain-bows, and a phantastic Imitation of the actions of more terrestricall Mortalls, since it transcended all the Senses of the Seere to discern whither, I leave to conjecture as I found it."[329:A]

It appears, also, from the same author, that the operations of the Fairies were considered as predictive of future events, and that those who were gifted with the privilege of beholding the process, formed their inferences accordingly. Of this he gives us the following singularly terrific instance:—"Thus a Man of the Second Sight, perceaving the Operations of these forecasting invisible People among us, (indulged thorow a stupendious Providence to give Warnings of some remarkable Events, either in the Air, Earth, or Waters) told he saw a Winding-shroud creeping on a walking healthful Persons Legs till it come to the Knee, and afterwards it come up to the Midle, then to the Shoulders, and at last over the Head, which was visible to no other Persone. And by observing the spaces of Time betwixt the severall Stages, he easily guess'd how long the Man was to live who wore the Shroud; for when it approached his Head, he told that such a Person was ripe for the Grave."[329:B]

Among the Scottish Fairies we must not forget to enumerate the _Wee Brown Man of the Muirs_, "a fairy," says Dr. Leyden, "of the most malignant order, the genuine _duergar_[329:C]," who dwelt beneath the heather bell, and whose favourite amusement it was to extract the brains from the skulls of those who slept within the verge of his power.[329:D]

It is evident from the account now given of the Scottish Fairies, that they assimilate, in a very striking degree, in manners, disposition, and origin, with the _Duergar_ or _Swart_ tribe of the Scandick Elves; but that a peculiarly wild, and even terrific malignancy forms and distinguishes their character and agency, ascribable, in a great measure, to the intermixture of a severe Christian theology, which attributes to these poetical little beings a species of demoniacal nature. It is also not less remarkable, that the only friendly and benignant Elf in the fairy annals of North Britain, though founded, in some respects, on the domestic fairy of Germany, and still more nearly assimilated to the _Portunus_, and the spirit _Grant_ of Gervase of Tilbury, possesses some features altogether peculiar to the country of its birth. Kirk, among his "fyve Curiosities in Scotland, not much observed elsewhere[330:A]," reckons, in the first place, "the BROUNIES, who in some Families are Drudges, clean the Houses and Dishes after all go to Bed, taking with him his Portion of Food, and removing befor Day-break."[330:B]

Of this singular race there appears to have been two kinds, a diminutive and a gigantic species. King James, in his Dæmonology, published in 1597, tells us, that "the spirit called _Brownie_, appeared like a _rough man_, and haunted divers houses without doing any evill, but doing as it were necessarie turnes up and downe the house; yet some were so blinded as to beleeve that their house was all the sonsier, as they called it, that such spirits resorted there[330:C];" and Martin, speaking of the Isles of Shetland, remarks, that "a spirit by the country people called _Browny_, was frequently seen in all the most considerable Families in these Isles and North of Scotland, in the shape of a _tall Man_."[331:A] To this description of Brownie, Milton seems to have been indebted for his "drudging Goblin:"—

——————————— "the lubbar-fiend, 'Who' _stretch'd out all the Chimney's length_, Basks at the fire his _hairy strength_."

But the most common tradition with regard to the _Brownie_ is, that, in point of size, he was similar to the _Fairy_, though in his habits, temper, and equipment, widely different. He possessed neither the weapons, nor the hostile inclinations of his brother Elves; he despised their gay attire, but was notorious for an attachment to dainty food, being the guardian of the Dairy, the avowed protector of the Bee, and a constant sharer in the product of its industry. He loved to lurk in hollow trees during the day, or in the recesses of some old mansion, to the family of which he would attach himself for centuries, and perform, for the menials, during the night, the most laborious offices.

The most ample and interesting account of this kind-hearted elf has been given to us, from tradition, by Mr. Cromek, who describes the Scotch Brownie as "small of stature, covered with short curly hair, with brown matted locks, and a brown mantle which reached to the knee, with a hood of the same colour." After having finished his nightly work, which was usually done by the crowing of the first cock, he would then, relates Mr. Cromek, "come into the farm-hall, and stretch itself out by the chimney, sweaty, dusty, and fatigued. It would take up the _pluff_, (a piece of bored bour-tree for blowing up the fire) and, stirring out the red embers, turn itself till it was rested and dried. A choice bowl of sweet cream, with combs of honey, was set in an accessible place: this was given as its hire; and it was willing to be bribed, though none durst avow the intention of the gift. When offered meat or drink, the Brownie instantly departed, bewailing and lamenting itself, as if unwilling to leave a place so long its habitation, from which nothing but the superior power of fate could sever it. A thrifty good wife, having made a web of linsey-woolsey, sewed a well-lined mantle, and a comfortable hood, for her trusty Brownie. She laid it down in one of his favourite haunts, and cried to him to array himself. Being commissioned by the gods to relieve mankind under the drudgery of original sin, he was forbidden to accept of wages or bribes. He instantly departed, bemoaning himself in a rhyme, which tradition has faithfully preserved:—

"A new mantle, and a new hood!— Poor Brownie! ye'll ne'er do mair gude!"

"The prosperity of the family seemed to depend on them, and was at their disposal.—A place, called Liethin Hall, in Dumfriesshire, was the hereditary dwelling of a noted Brownie. He had lived there, as he once communicated, in confidence, to an old woman, for three hundred years. He appeared only once to every new master, and, indeed, seldom showed more than his hand to any one. On the decease of a beloved master, he was heard to make moan, and would not partake of his wonted delicacies for many days. The heir of the land arrived from foreign parts, and took possession of his father's inheritance. The faithful Brownie showed himself, and proffered homage. The spruce Laird was offended to see such a famine-faced, wrinkled domestic, and ordered him meat and drink, with a new suit of clean livery. The Brownie departed, repeating aloud and frequently these ruin-boding lines:—

"Ca, cuttie, ca! A' the luck o' Liethin Ha' Gangs wi' me to Bodsbeck Ha'."

"Liethin Ha' was, in a few years, in ruins, and 'bonnie Bodsbeck' flourished under the luck-bringing patronage of the Brownie.—

"One of them, in the olden times, lived with Maxwell, Laird of Dalswinton, doing ten men's work, and keeping the servants awake at nights with the noisy dirling of its elfin flail. The Laird's daughter, says tradition, was the comeliest dame in all the holms of Nithsdale. To her the Brownie was much attached: he assisted her in love-intrigue, conveying her from her high-tower chamber to the trysting-thorn in the woods, and back again, with such light-heeled celerity, that neither bird, dog, nor servant awoke.

"He undressed her for the matrimonial bed, and served her so handmaiden-like, that her female attendant had nothing to do, not daring even to finger her mistress's apparel, lest she should provoke the Brownie's resentment. When the pangs of the mother seized his beloved lady, a servant was ordered to fetch the 'cannie wife,' who lived across the Nith. The night was dark as a December night could be; and the wind was heavy among the groves of oak. The Brownie, enraged at the loitering serving-man, wrapped himself in his lady's fur-cloak; and, though the Nith was foaming high-flood, his steed, impelled by supernatural spur and whip, passed it like an arrow. Mounting the dame behind him, he took the deep water back again, to the amazement of the worthy woman, who beheld the red waves tumbling around her, yet the steed's foot-locks were dry. 'Ride nae by the auld pool,' quo' she, 'lest we should meet wi' Brownie.'—He replied, 'Fear nae, dame, ye've met a' the Brownies ye will meet.'—Placing her down at the hall gate, he hastened to the stable, where the servant-lad was just pulling on his boots; he unbuckled the bridle from his steed, and gave him a most afflicting drubbing.—

"The Brownie, though of a docile disposition, was not without its pranks and merriment. The Abbey-lands, in the parish of New Abbey, were the residence of a very sportive one. He loved to be, betimes, somewhat mischievous.—Two lasses, having made a fine bowlful of buttered brose, had taken it into the byre to sup, while it was yet dark. In the haste of concealment, they had brought but one spoon; so they placed the bowl between them, and took a spoonful by turns. 'I hae got but three sups,' cried the one, 'an it's a' done!' 'It's a' done, indeed,' cried the other. 'Ha, ha!' laughed a third voice, 'Brownie has gotten the maist o't.' He had judiciously placed himself between them, and got the spoon twice for their once."[336:A]

The character and leading features of this benevolent Fairy, have been concentrated in the following beautiful stanza by Mr. Erskine, who, in supplying the omissions of Collins, thus supposes himself addressing the friend of that exquisite poet:—

"—— See! recall'd by thy resistless lay, Once more the _Brownie_ shews his honest face. Hail, from thy wanderings long, my much lov'd sprite, Thou friend, thou lover of the lowly, hail! Tell in what realms thou sport'st thy merry night, Trail'st thy long mop, or whirl'st the mimic flail, Where dost thou deck the much-disordered hall, While the tired damsel in Elysium sleeps, With early voice to drowsy workman call, Or lull the dame while mirth his vigils keeps? 'Twas thus in Caledonia's domes, 'tis said, Thou ply'dst the kindly task in years of yore: At last, in luckless hour, some erring maid Spread in thy nightly cell of viands store: Ne'er was thy form beheld among their mountains more."[336:B]

From the thirteenth to the close of the sixteenth century, the _Fairy Mythology of England_, being derived from the same sources, and through the same medium as the _Scottish System_, which we have just delineated, the outlines of both will be found very similar. Thus in _Gervase_ of _Tilbury_, in _Chaucer_, _Lydgate_, &c., even, with the exception of Spenser, down to R. Scot and _Warner_, whose "Albion's England" was printed, though not published, in 1586, the same ideas of fairy-land, the same infernal origin, and variety of species, the same mischievous and terrific character, and occasionally the same frolic and capricious wantonness, as the property of one particular _genus_, may be readily detected.[337a:A] But in 1593, when the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_ was presented to the public, nearly the whole of this Mythology which, as founded on the Scandick superstitions, had been, though with a few modifications, so long prevalent both in England and Scotland, seems to have received such vast additions from the plastic imagination of our bard, as, though rebuilt on the traditions of the "olden time," justly to merit, by their novelty and poetic beauty, the title of the _English System_, in contradistinction to that which still lingers in the wilds of Scotland.

The Fairies of Shakspeare have been truly denominated _the favourite children of his romantic fancy_, and, perhaps, in no part of his works has he exhibited a more creative and visionary pencil, or a finer tone of enthusiasm, than in bodying forth "these airy nothings," and in giving them, in brighter and ever-durable tints, once more

"A local habitation and a name."

Of his unlimited sway over this delightful world of ideal forms, no stronger proof can be given, than that he has imparted an entire new cast of character to the beings whom he has evoked from its bosom, purposely omitting the darker shades of their character, and, whilst throwing round them a flood of light, playful, yet exquisitely soft and tender, endowing them with the moral attributes of purity and benevolence. In fact, he not only dismisses altogether the _fairies of a malignant nature_, but clothes the milder yet mixed tribe of his predecessors with a more fascinating sportiveness, and with a much larger share of unalloyed goodness.

The distinction between the two species he has accurately marked where _Puck_, under some apprehension, observes to _Oberon_, that the night is waning fast, that Aurora's harbinger appears, and that the "damned spirits all" are flitting to their beds, adding, that

"For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They wilfully themselves exile from light, And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night:"

to which Oberon immediately replies,—

"But we are spirits of another sort: I with the morning's love have oft made sport And, like a forester, the groves may tread, Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red, Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams."[338a:A]

Of the originality of Shakspeare in the delineation of this tribe of spirits, or Fairies, nothing more is required in proof, than a combination or grouping of the principal features; a picture which, when contrasted with the Scandick system and that which had been built upon it in England and Scotland previous to his own time, will sufficiently show with what grace, amenity, and beauty, and with what an exuberant store of novel imagery, he has decorated these phantoms of the Gothic mythology.

The King and Queen of Faiery, who, in Chaucer, are identified with the Pluto and Proserpina of hell[338a:B], are, under the appellations of Oberon and Titania[337b:A], drawn by Shakspeare in a very amiable and pleasing light; for, though jealous of each other, they are represented as usually employed in alleviating the distresses of the worthy and unfortunate. Their benign influence, indeed, seems to have extended over the physical powers of nature; for Titania tells her Lord, that, in consequence of their jealous brawls, a strange distemperature had seized the elements:—

"The seasons alter; hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose; And on old Hyem's chin, and icy crown, An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set: The spring, the summer, The chiding autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed world, By their increase, now knows not which is which: _And this same progeny of evils comes, From our debate, from our dissention; We are their parents and original_."[337b:B]

It appears even that the fairy-practice of purloining children, which, in every previous system of this mythology, had been carried on from malignant or self-interested motives, was in Titania the result of humanity and compassion: thus, when Oberon begs her "little changeling boy" to be his henchman, she answers—

"———— ——— ——— Set your heart at rest, The fairy land buys not the child of me. His mother was a vot'ress of my order: And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking the embarked traders on the flood; When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive, And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind: Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, (Following her womb, then rich with my young squire) Would imitate; and sail upon the land, To fetch me trifles, and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandize. But she, _being mortal_, of that boy did die: _And, for her sake, I do rear up her boy: And, for her sake, I will not part with him_."[338b:A]

The expression in this passage "being mortal," as applied to the changeling's mother, in contradistinction to the unchangeable state of the Fairies, may be added to Mr. Ritson's instances[338b:B] as another _decisive proof of the immortality of Shakspeare's elves_; but when that commentator asserts, that the Fairies of the _common people_ "were never esteemed otherwise," he has gone too far, at least if he meant to include the people of Scotland; for Kirk expressly tells us, that the Scottish Fairies are mortal: "they are not subject," he remarks, "to sore Sicknesses, but dwindle and decay at a certain Period, all about ane Age;" and still more decidedly has he remarked their destiny, in answer to the question, "at what Period of Time do they die?"—"They are," he replies, "of more refyn'd Bodies and Intellectualls then wee, and of far less heavy and corruptive Humours, (which cause a Dissolution) yet many of their Lives being dissonant to right Reason and their own Laws, and their Vehicles not being wholly frie of Lust and Passion, especially of the more spirituall and hautie Sins, they pass (_after a long healthy Lyfe_) into ane Orb and Receptacle fitted for their Degree, till they come under the general Cognizance of the last Day."[338b:C]

Like the _Liös-alfar_ or _Bright Elves_ of the Goths, the Fairies of Shakspeare delighted in conferring blessings, in prospering the household, and in rendering the offspring of virtuous love, fortunate, fair, and free from blemish: thus the first fruit of the re-union of Oberon and Titania, is a benediction on the house of Theseus:—

"Now thou and I are new in amity; And will to-morrow midnight, solemnly, Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair posterity;"[339:A]

an intention which is carried into execution at the close of the play, where this kind and gentle race, entering the mansion at midnight—

"Hand in hand, with fairy grace,"—

receive the following directions from their benevolent monarch:—

"Now, until the break of day, Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be; And the issue, there create, Ever shall be fortunate. And the blots of nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand; Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be.— With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gait; And each several chamber bless, Through this palace with sweet peace."[339:B]

How different this from the conduct and disposition of their brother elves of Scotland, of whom Kirk tells us, that "they are ever readiest to go on hurtfull Errands, but seldom will be the Messengers of great Good to Men."[339:C]

But not only were the Fairies of our bard the friends and protectors of virtue, they were also the punishers of guilt and sensuality; and, contrary to the then commonly entertained ideas of their infernal origin, and anti-christian habits, were the avowed patrons of piety and prayer: "Go you," exclaims the personifier of one of these tiny moralists, addressing his companions, "black, grey, green and white,"

———————————— "Go—and where you find a maid, That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, Raise up the organs of her fantasy, Sleep she as sound as careless infancy; But those as sleep, and think not on their sins, Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins— But, stay; I smell a man of middle earth:— With trial-fire touch me his finger-end: If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, And turn him to no pain; but if he start, It is the flesh of a corrupted heart:"

on the proof of his iniquity, they proceed to punishment, pinching him, and singing in scorn,

"Fye on sinful fantasy! Fye on lust and luxury!" &c.[340:A]

This love of virtue, and abhorrence of sin, were, as attributes of the Fairies, in a great measure, if not altogether, the gifts of Shakspeare, at least if we regard their mythology at that time prevalent in Britain, whether we refer to the Scottish system, or to that which existed among our own poets from Chaucer to Warner, though our familiarity with the picture is now such, owing to the popularity of the original artist and the consequent number of his copyists on the same subject, that we assign it a date much anterior to its real source.

If the moral and benevolent character of these children of fancy be, in a great degree, the creation of Shakspeare, the imagery which he has employed in describing their persons, manners, and occupations, will be deemed not less his peculiar offspring, nor inferior in beauty, novelty, and wildness of painting, to that which the magic of his pencil has diffused over every other part of his visionary world. Thus, in imparting to us an idea of the diminutive size of his Fairies, with what picturesque minutiæ has he marked his sketch! Speaking of the altercation between Oberon and Titania, he mentions, as one of its results, that

————————— "all their elves, for fear, _Creep into acorn cups_, and hide them there:"[341:A]

and he delineates Ariel as sleeping in _a cowslip's bell_, as living merrily "under the blossom that hangs on the bough," and flying after summer mounted on the _back of the bat_.[341:B]

In accordance with this smallness of stature, are all their accompaniments and employments contrived, with the most admirable proportion and the most vivid imagination. Their dress tinted "green and white[341:C]," is constructed of the "wings of rear-mice[341:D]," and their wrappers of the "snake's enamelled skin[341:E];" the _pensioners_ of their _queen_ are "the cowslips tall[341:F];" her lacquies, _Peas-blossom_, _Cobweb_, _Moth_, and _Mustard-seed_[341:G]; her lamps the green lustre of the glow-worm[341:H]; and her equipage, one of the most exquisite pictures of frolic imagination, is thus minutely drawn:

"O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you. —————————————— She comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies:— Her waggon-spokes made of long spinner's legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces, of the smallest spider's web; The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams: Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film: Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid: Her chariot is an empty hazel nut, Maid by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers."[342:A]

Of the various occupations and amusements assigned to the Fairies, the most constant which tradition has preserved, has been that of dancing at midnight, hand in hand in a circle, a diversion common to every system of this mythology, but which Shakspeare perhaps first described with graphic precision. The scenery selected for this sport, in which—

"To dance their ringlets to the whistling wind,"

was, we are told by Titania,

—— "on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, Or on the beached margent of the sea,"[342:B]

and the _light of the moon_ was a necessary adjunct to their festivity,—

"Ye elves —— —— you demy puppets, that _By moon-shine_ do the green-sour ringlets make Whereof the ewe not bites."[342:C]

These _ringlets_, the consequence of the fairy footing, our author has particularly noticed in the following lines, adding some striking imagery on the use to which flowers were applied by this sprightly race:—

—— "Nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing, Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring: The expressure that it bears, green let it be, More fertile-fresh than all the field to see; And, Hony soit qui mal y pense, write In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white; Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, Buckled below fair knight-hoods bending knee: _Fairies use flowers for their charactery_."[343:A]

To preserve the freshness and verdure of these ringlets by supplying them with moisture, was one of the occupations of Titania's train: thus a fairy in her service is represented as telling Puck—

"I do wander every where, Swifter than the moones sphere; _And I serve the fairy queen To dew her orbs upon the green_."[343:B]

The general amusements of the tribe, independent of their moon-light dance, are very impressively and characteristically enumerated in the subsequent lines:—

"Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves; And ye, that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, When he comes back;—and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms; that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew."[344:A]

But the most astonishing display of the sportive and illimitable fancy of our poet on this subject, will be found in the ministration and offices ascribed to those Fairies who are employed about the person, or executing the mandates, of their Queen. It appears to have been the business of one of her retinue to attend to the decoration of her majesty's _pensioners, the cowslips tall_;

"In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: _I must go seek some dew-drops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear_."[344:B]

Another duty, not less important, was to lull their mistress asleep on the bosom of a violet or a musk-rose:—

"I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows; Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine: There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, _Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight_."[344:C]

And again, with still greater wildness of imagination, but with the utmost propriety and adaptation of imagery, are they drawn in the performance of similar functions:—

"_Titania._ Come, now _a roundel and a fairy song_; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; Some, war with rear-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats; and some keep back The clamourous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our quaint spirits: _Sing me now asleep_: Then to your offices, and let me rest."

The song is equally in character, as it forbids, in admirable adherence to poetical truth and consistency, the approach of every insect or reptile, that might be deemed likely to annoy the repose of such a delicate and diminutive being, while Philomel is invoked to add her delicious chaunt to the soothing melody of fairy voices:—

"_1 Fai._ You spotted snakes, with double tongue, Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen; Newts, and blindworms, do no wrong; Come not near our fairy queen:

Chorus.

Philomel, with melody, Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harm, nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.

_2 Fai._ Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence: Beetles black, approach not near; Worm, nor snail, do no offence.

Chorus.

Philomel, with melody, &c.

_1 Fai._ Hence, away; now all is well: One, aloof stand sentinel. [_Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps._"[345:A]

This scene, beautiful and appropriate as it is, is yet surpassed, in originality and playfulness of fancy, by the passage in which Titania gives directions to her attendants for their conduct to Bottom, to whom she had previously offered their assistance, promising that they should fetch him "jewels from the deep:"—

"Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks, and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries: The honey-bags steal from the humble bees, And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worms eyes, To have my love to bed, and to arise; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes; Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies."[346:A]

The working of Oberon's enchantment on Titania, who "straight-way lov'd an ass," and led him to "her close and consecrated bower," and the interview between Bottom, her fairy majesty, and her train, though connected with so many supernatural imaginings, have been transferred to the canvas by Fuseli with a felicity which has embodied the very thoughts of Shakspeare, and which may on this subject be said to have placed the genius of the painter almost on a level with that of the poet, so wonderfully has he fixed the illusive creations of his great original.

To this detail of fairy occupation, must be added another feature, on which Shakspeare has particularly dwelt, namely, the attention of the tribe to cleanliness: thus Puck, on entering the palace of Theseus, exclaims,—

"———————— Not a mouse Shall disturb this hallow'd house: _I am sent, with broom, before, To sweep the dust behind the door_:"[346:B]

and similar care and neatness are enjoined the elves who haunt the towers of Windsor:—

"—— About, about; Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out: Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room;— _The several chairs of order look you scour With juice of balm, and every precious flower_."[347:A]

No one could aspire to the favour and protection of the Fairies who was slovenly or personally impure; punishment, indeed, awaited all who thus offended; even the majesty of Mab herself condescended

"To bake the elf-locks in foul sluttish hair;"[347:B]

and _Cricket_, the fairy, being sent on a mission to the chimnies of Windsor, receives the following injunction:—

"Where fires thou find'st unraked, and hearths unswept, There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry: Our radiant queen hates sluts, and sluttery."[347:C]

In order to complete the picture of fairy superstition, as given us by Shakspeare, it remains to consider his description of _Puck_ or _Robin Good-fellow_, the confidential servant of Oberon, an elf or incubus of a mixed and very peculiar character. This quaint, frolicksome, and often mischievous sprite, seems to have been compounded of the qualities ascribed by Gervase of Tilbury to his Goblin _Grant_, and to his _Portuni_, two species of dæmons whom he describes, both in name and character, as denizens of England; of the benevolent propensities attributed by Agricola to the _Guteli_, _Cobali_, or Brownies of Germany, and of additional features and powers, the gift and creation of our bard.

A large portion of these descriptions of the German writers, and of his countryman Gervase, Shakspeare would find in Reginald Scot, and from their union with the product of his own fancy, has arisen the _Puck_ of the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, a curious amalgamation of the _fairy_, the _brownie_, and the _hob-goblin_, whom Burton calls "a bigger kind of fairy."[348:A] Scot's vocabulary of the fairy tribe is singularly copious, including not less than nine or ten appellations which have been bestowed, with more or less propriety, on this _Proteus_ of the Gothic elves.—"In our childhood," he observes, "our mother's maids have so terrified us with—_bull-beggers_, spirits, urchens, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, pans, faunes, sylens, _kit with the cansticke_, dwarfes, imps, nymphes, changlings, _incubus_, _Robin Good-fellowe_, the spoone, the mare, the _man in the oke_, the _hell waine_, the _fier drake_, the _puckle_ Tom thombe, _hob goblin_, _Tom tumbler_, boneless, and such other bugs, that we are afraid of our owne shadowes."[348:B]

It is remarkable, however, that the Puck of Shakspeare is introduced by a term not found in this catalogue:—"Farewell, thou _Lob of Spirits_," says the fairy to him in their first interview,—a title which, as we shall perceive hereafter, could not be meant to imply, as Dr. Johnson supposed, either inactivity of body or dulness of mind, for Puck was occasionally swifter than the wind, and notorious, as the immediately subsequent passage informs us, for his shrewdness and ingenuity:—

"Either I mistake your shape and making quite,"

says the fairy, after bestowing the above title,

"Or else you are that _shrewd_ and knavish sprite, Call'd Robin Good-fellow;"

and then proceeds to characterise him by the peculiarity of his functions:—

—————————————— "Are you not he, That fright the maidens of the villagery; Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; And sometime make the drink to bear no barm; Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck: Are you not he?"[349:A]

an interrogatory to which he replies in the following terms:—

———————————— "Thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly-foal: And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab; And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale. The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, And _tailor_ cries, and falls into a cough; And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe; And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there."[349:B]

The greater part of these frolics, indeed all but the last, may be traced in _Gervase of Tilbury_, _Agricola_, and _Scot_: the "misleading night-wanderers," for instance, "laughing at their harm," and "neighing in likeness of a filly foal," feats which _Puck_ afterwards thus again enumerates,—

"I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: _Sometime a horse I'll be_, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; And _neigh_, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn,"[350:A]—

are expressly attributed by Gervase to the goblins whom he has termed _Grant_ and _Portuni_:—"Est _in Anglia_ quoddam dæmonum genus, quod suo idiomate _Grant_ nominant _adinstar pulli equini anniculi, tibiis erectum oculis scintillantibus_," &c.—"Cum—inter ambiguas noctis tenebras _Angli_ solitarii quandoque equitant, _Portunus_ nonnunquam invisus equitanti sese copulat, et cum diutius comitatur euntem, tandem loris arreptis equum in latum ad manum ducit, in quo dum infixos volutatur, _portunus exiens cachinnum facit_, et _sic hujuscemodi ludibrio humanam simplicitatem deridet_."[350:B]

The domestic offices and drudgery which Puck delighted to perform for his favourites, are mentioned by _Lavaterus_ as belonging to his _Fairies of the Earth_; by _Agricola_ to his _Cobali_ and _Guteli_, and by _Scot_ to his _Incubi_ and _Virunculi_. Thus the first of these writers observes, in the words of the English translation of 1572, that "men imagine there be certayne elves or fairies of the earth, and tell many straunge and marvellous tales of them, which they have heard of their grandmothers and mothers, howe they _have appeared unto those of the house_, _have done service_, have _rocked the cradell_, and (which is a signe of good luck) _do continually tary in the house_[350:C];" and he subsequently gives us from Agricola the following passage:—"There be some (demons) very mild and gentle, whome some of the _Germans_ call _Cobali_, as the Grecians do, because they be as it were apes and counterfeiters of men: for they leaping, and skipping for joy do laughe, and sæme as though they did many things, when in very dæde they doo nothing.—Some other call them _Elves_;—they are not much unlike unto those whom the _Germans_ call _Guteli_, bycause they sæme to beare good affection towards men, for _they keepe horses_, and do _other necessary businesse_."[351:A]

The resemblance which these descriptions bear both to the _Brownie_ of the Scotch and the _Puck_ of Shakspeare are very evident: but the combination and similitude are rendered still more apparent in the words of _Scot_; the "_Virunculi terrei_," says he, "are such as was _Robin good fellowe_, that would supplie the office of servants, speciallie of maids; as to make a fier in the morning, sweepe the house, grind mustard and malt, drawe water, &c.[351:B];" and speaking of the _Incubus_, he adds:—"In deede your grandams maides were wont to set a boll of milke before him and his cousine _Robin good-fellow_, for grinding of malt or mustard, and sweeping the house at midnight: and you have also heard that _he would chafe exceedingly, if the maid or good-wife of the house, having compassion on his nakednesse, laid anie clothes for him, beesides his messe of white bread and milke, which was his standing fee. For in that case he saith; What have we here? Hemten, hamten, here will I never more tread nor stampen._"[351:C]

The lines in _italics_ point out one of the most characteristic features of the Brownie, while the preceding parts, and the last word of the quotation, are in unison, both with the passages just transcribed from our poet, and with that expression of _Puck_, where, describing to Oberon the terror and dispersion of the rustic comedians, he says—

"And, at _our stamp_, here o'er and o'er one falls."[351:D]

It may be also remarked, that the idea of fixing "an ass's nowl" on Bottom's head, is most probably taken from Scot, who gives us a very curious receipt for this singular metamorphosis.[351:E]

So far, then, the _Puck_ of Shakspeare is in conformity with the tales of tradition, and of preceding writers; he is the "Goblin fear'd in field and town[352:A]," who loves all things best "that befal preposterously[352:B]," and who, even when the poet wrote, had not ceased to excite apprehension; for Scot hath told us, nine years before the era of the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, that _Robin Good-fellowe_ ceaseth now to be _much feared_.[352:C]

But to these traits of customary character, Shakspeare has added some which greatly modify the picture, and which have united to the "drudging goblin," and to the demon of mischievous frolic, duties and functions of a very different cast. He is the messenger[352:D], and trusty servant[352:E] of the fairy king, by whom, in these capacities, he is called gentle[352:F] and good[352:G], and he combines with all his hereditary attributes, the speed, the legerity, and the intellectual skill of the highest order of the fairy world. Accordingly when Oberon says—

"Fetch me this herb: and be thou here again, Ere the leviathan can swim a league;"

he replies,

"I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes;"[353:A]

and again, on receiving commission from the same quarter:—

"_Obe._ About the wood go swifter than the wind:

_Puck._ I go, I go; look, how I go; Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow."[353:B]

Upon the whole we may be allowed, from the preceding dissertation, to consider the following series of circumstances as entitled to the appellation of facts: namely, that the _patria_ of our popular system of fairy mythology, was the _Scandinavian Peninsula_; that, on its admission into this country, it gradually underwent various modifications through the _influence of Christianity_, the _introduction of classical associations_, and the _prevalence of feudal manners_; but that, ultimately, two systems became established; one in Scotland, founded on the wild and more terrific parts of the Gothic mythology, and the other in England, built, indeed, on the same system, but from a selection of its milder features, and converted by the genius of Shakspeare into one of the most lovely creations of a sportive imagination. Such, in fact, has been the success of our bard in expanding and colouring the germs of Gothic fairyism; in assigning to its tiny agents, new attributes and powers; and in clothing their ministration with the most light and exquisite imagery, that his portraits, in all their essential parts, have descended to us as indissolubly connected with, and indeed nearly, if not altogether, forming, our ideas of the fairy tribe.

The canvas, it is true, which he stretched, has been since expanded, and new groupes have been introduced; but the outline and the mode of colouring which he employed, have been invariably followed. It is, in short, to his picture of the fairy world, that we are indebted for the _Nymphidia_ of _Drayton_[354:A]; the _Robin Goodfellow_ of Jonson[354:B]; the miniatures of Fletcher and Browne[354:C]; the full-length portraits of Herrick[354:D]; the sly allusions of Corbet[354:E], and the spirited and picturesque sketches of Milton.[354:F]

To Shakspeare, therefore, as the remodeller, and almost the inventor of our fairy system, may, with the utmost propriety, be addressed the elegant compliment which Browne has paid to Occleve, certainly inappropriate as applied to that rugged imitator of Chaucer, but admirably adapted to the peculiar powers of our bard, and delightfully expressive of what we may conceive would be the gratitude, were such testimony possible, of these children of his playful fancy:—

"Many times he hath been seene With the faeries on the greene, And to them his pipe did sound As they danced in a round; Mickle solace would they make him, And at midnight often wake him; And convey him from his roome To a fielde of yellow broome, Or into the meadowes where Mints perfume the gentle aire, And where Flora spreads her treasure, There they would beginn their measure. If it chanc'd night's sable shrowds Muffled Cynthia up in clowds, Safely home they then would see him, And from brakes and quagmires free him. There are few such swaines as he Now a days for harmonie."[355:A]

FOOTNOTES:

[256:A] Part II. chapter 1.

[256:B] Part II. chapter 2.

[256:C] In his Discourse on English Poetry.

[256:D] In his Art of English Poesy.

[257:A] In his Apology for Poetry.

[257:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 213.

[257:C] Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 286; and Chalmers's Supplemental Apology, p. 272. note.

[257:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 237.

[257:E] Ibid. vol. xiv. p. 217.

[258:A] Part II. chap. 1.

[259:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xiv. p. 43. Act i. sc. 4.

[262:A] "20th May, 1608.

"Edw. Blunt] Entered under t'hands of Sir Geo. Bucke, Kt. and Mr. Warden Seton, a book called: The booke of _Pericles Prynce of Tyre_."

"A book by the like authoritie, called _Anthony and Cleopatra_." Chalmers's Supplemental Apology, pp. 488, 489. By a somewhat singular mistake, the _second_ of May is mentioned by Mr. Malone, as the date of the entry of Pericles; vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xxi. p. 147.

[263:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xxi. p. 148. The four quarto editions of Pericles are dated, 1609, 1619, 1630, and 1635.

[263:B] British Bibliographer, vol. i. p. 533.

[263:C] Verses by J. Tatham, prefixed to Richard Brome's _Jovial Crew or the Merry Beggars_, 4to. 1652.

[264:A] Prologue to the tragedie of _Circe_, by Charles D'Avenant, 1677.

[265:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xxi. p. 389.

[265:B] Ibid. p. 403. 404. 411.

[266:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xxi. p. 390.

[266:B] Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 144.

[267:A] Monthly Review, New Series, vol. lxxvii. p. 158.

[267:B] 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_."

[268:A] 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.