a SAH Fin ana’ yh 1 wand, i noel er: i ie shitty . awl Wr 2 rash : Borne ‘ AyonT eee 2 eracee see ae ae Stee : Hise ath . daa Abe ai , f . te phiadit sae ‘i ‘ Bares oa £5) hay Ho “ rata ; mal pati Sait oats Gh 2 fens AB Sale 2 ¢ r % a ee ye : sews aise eae ra “pe sick ee re ar tet * ‘z Aecpractes 4 fe Oe rane " i 9B og vitgrbs ees oy pntarnatat yer ick ee, = het we op pias tepte cep th ealltien dk a 3 a a> NEW STUDY OF SHAKESPEARE, | : . ' 2 LACK PYLIVM, CENIO: SOCRATEDARTET IERRA TEGIT, POPVLVS MARET, Ol STAY PASSENGER WHY GOEST “HOY iy St READ OL CANS VHOM ES\I078 DEAT HE SERS MONVI4NS SHAK SPEARE i RE DLS WHOM iano A NEW STUDY OF SHAKESPEARE: 1 *. . AN INQUIRY INTO “THE CONNECTION OF THE PLAYS AND POEMS, WITH THE ORIGINS OF THE CLASSICAL DRAMA, AND WITH THE PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY, THROUGH THE MYSTERIES. “ From the Sarcophagus and the urn I awake the Genius of the extinguished Torch, ‘and so closely does its shape resemble Eros, that at moments I scarcely know which * of ye dictate to me, O Love! O Death !”—(Zanoni). “That she is living, Were it but told, you should be hooted at Like an old tale ; but it appears, she lives Though yet she speak not.” —( Winter’s Tale). Bondo: TRUBNER AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW, EC. ALL RIGHTS OF TRANSLATION RESERVED, a ihe 8. & J. Brawn, Printers, G Hiau Houporn. CONTENTS. t= § ai PAGE INTRODUCTION : : : 5 : SONG Coap. J.—TuHe Winerr’s Tale. : ; ; 1 ¥e JJ.—SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS . . . 40 » IL1.—SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS-—CONTINUED. : 62 he TV.—SHAKESPRARE’s SONNETS—CONTINUED. . . tO r VY. —SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS—CONTINUED. ; 112 » WVI.—SHAKESPEARE’S Sonnets—ContinuED. erh23 » VIL—THr PHa@yix anpD THE TURTLE. ; 161 » VWI1I.—Romero anp JULIET. ; : . 202 - 1X.—Bacon. : . é . ; 240 = X.—Tue Two Nosy isis ; 208 » X%XL—DANTE AND SHAKESPEARE, : . 277 ;, X%I].—Mipsummer Nicur’s DREAM. ; ous », AXLII,-—THe TEmMpsst. ‘ ’ . : 321 » AXLV.—CYMBELINE. . , é : ; . 339 » &V.—Lovez’s Lasours Lost. ‘ : : 343 » AVI.—SrRatForD. ; : - : . 349 \P “+ * F . 7 as INTRODUCTION. (HIS work, with all its imperfections, is presented to the public not without much consideration and deep thought. It seems like presumption, after the endless literature upon Shakespeare, to imagine we can have anything new to say. After the criticism of the greatest minds of this and the last century, what possible new light can we throw upon this vexed question? Johnson, Coleridge, Goethe, Gervinus, Ulrici, Dowden, Swinburne,—to mention even these names seems something like the ‘“‘pride that apes humility !” But one thought encourages us. If every new writer, and original thinker, were to be deterred from a fresh attempt, by the formidable names of his prede- cessors—nothing new upon any great subject would ever come to see the light of day. If Darwin had asked himself, with a sense of self-doubt, what new thing he could possibly have to say, upon so profound a ques- tion as the origin of Man, his works would have remained unwritten, or unpublished. The odds are certainly tremendously against the proba- bility of individual discovery—in each particular case. But an author is prompted to publish, by the urgency of what he feels or perceives to be true, in his particular studies. He must not be daunted, because great names have gone before him, or be questioning his particular right to publish what he thinks is true, because he does not possess a great name to support him. We, to whom this problem of Shakespeare’s art has been a life study, feel much further consolation in the belief, that a new hypothesis, however astray, or eclectic, may be the means of leading to fresh thought, and a new study of the poet’s art, from an entirely undreamt of direction. Mr. Herbert Spencer makes the remark :—“It is a truth perpetually, that accumulated facts lying in “disorder begin to assume some order if an hypothesis is thrown among “them.” But do the facts of Shakespeare’s art lie in disorder? Do they require the assistance of our redeeming pen, to rescue them from an anarchy of nearly three centuries? An answer to this question must be Vili INTRODUCTION. fashioned according to each one’s conscience. Shakespeare’s art must raise in many minds, some such questions as these. How far does the classi- cal element perceptible in the Tempest, Cymbeline, or The Winter's Tale, enter into the unity of the poet’s plays? How are we to under- stand the Supernatural as related to the Natural in this art? Where does the didactic element, plainly perceptible everywhere, extend? Does it amount to philosophical principle—or is it only contingent, and occa- sional? These questions might be multiplied indefinitely. But one great question stares us in the face at the outset. What is the relation- ship of the poems (Sonnets) to the plays? And what is the meaning of the curious connection obtaining, between the black-mistress of the Sonnets, and Rosalind in Love’s Labors Lost? That these neglected Sonnets, are creative principles connected with the plays, is the thesis of this work. And we may here be permitted to make a preliminary protest, against those who refuse to remember that Love and Marriage, and the begetting of offspring through marriage, form the particular similes, employed by Diotima in the Banquet, to illustrate creation, divine or poetic. This is a point we would particularly insist upon. For critics refuse to see in the Sonnets, anything more than the marriage of some contemporary friend, or patron of the poet’s. But the entire illustration of creation given by Diotima to Socrates (which he repeats), is pregnant with this very simile of marriage for the sake of offspring, with which the Sonnets open! If the author of the poems and plays,-intended applying Plato’s philosophy of creation (through love), to art purposes,—he surely could use no better metaphor, to express the first principles of that creation, than by treading in the steps of Diotima! Instead of finding a difficulty in tracing this resemblance, we should find it easy, if we only remembered that mar- riage for the sake of begetting ofspring—viz., truth upon the body of beauty—is Plato’s profound way of illustrating creation in the second degree of imitation. This creation through Love, is very excellent for poets,—since they alone can imitate the Divine Architect, by copying the eternal truths that are the archetypes of existence! “ Art,” writes Plato, “is to be regarded as the capacity of creating a whole “that is inspired by an invisible order; and its aim is to guide the “human soul.”—(Philebus, pp. 64—67. Pheedrus, p. 264). We feel we have two great difficulties to contend with. First, the exclusive and sacred ground, Shakespeare occupies in the world’s judgment, which makes any attempt to interpret his art afresh, not only appear presumption, but at once offends all sorts of old fashioned prejudices, and peculiarities of opinion. For do we not look upon Shakespeare as a sort of Bible of the Aryans, as sacred, as profound, INTRODUCTION. 1X and certainly in these modern days, infinitely more read, and studied ? Around his works are entwined all sorts of strongly fixed growths of conservative opinion with regard to his art, most assured as to knowledge of his ends, and very determined no one shall uproot their long accepted dogmas. Nothing is so unpleasant as having our quiet and stable opinions rudely overthrown; and _ sooner than have them upset, we refuse to entertain others from the very first. A work like this, it must be confessed, requires a great deal of fair play,—an unbiassed critical judgment—and peculiar knowledge of the classics—particularly of Plato’s philosophy. The second striking difficulty (and perhaps not the least of the two), is the seeming extrava- gance—even miraculous theory involved in this work. We have no desire to be classed with dreamers of the type of Miss Delia Bacon, or other such esthetic writers, who have made the wildest assertions without one single atom of presumptive proof in support of their theories. And when we seriously ask the reader to study this work, with the theory before him, that the author of the plays has planned self-re- velation through his art, we have misgivings that the reader will think we are perpetrating a joke upon him, or inviting him to squander valua- ble time in that amiable insanity lamented by Horace, wz., that of changing rounds into squares, and other like imbecilities. However, we imagine we have well weighed our evidence,—have considered this matter from every possible point of self criticism. And have asked ourselves if we are sober, rational, and right minded—have waited years,—(even the nine years of Virgil) and find the problem growing more urgent, more pressing, more imperative than ever. But, replies the critic, “‘ who can be self-judge upon these questions? Is not “the world full of circle-squarers, perpetual-motion discoverers, Pyra- " mid-problem solvers—all as confident, all as self-assured as yourself ? “What possible guarantee can you give, to show you do not belong to this noble army of self-deluded martyrs?” We reply confidently, “‘ we feel we are right, and do not belong to them.” ‘“ Nonsense!” replies the critic—“peals of ironic laughter, declare that this is the very essence of their craze!” Placed on the horns of such a dilemma we have but one escape—to let Time,—the great final court of Appeal—hbe judge, and to ask for nothing, save what belongs by right to Truth and Time, whose servants we are. What is the main thesis of this work? We reply, to endeavour to prove, that the poet’s art is as real, and self-reflecting, as Nature’s art! To suggest, that we should study the poet, as a living appeal of thought to thought—as living art—not as dead art! But is not Shakespeare’s x INTRODUCTION. art living art ?—retorts the reader. Yes, inasmuch as Homer's, Virgil’s, or Dante’s art is living art. But what we do mean, is that the poet’s plays and poems (we leave of course the historical cycle out of count), have never been considered otherwise, than mere plays devoid of any profound purport, or inter-relationship. This work is to suggest that a great unity runs throughout the poet’s entire art, in connection with classical, and particularly the Platonic philosophy. The poems, we maintain, contain hidden under profound metaphor, the creative prin- ciples, upon which, and through which, the plays were created, and are to be interpreted or revealed. What Dante’s Vita Nuova, or new-life is to his Commedia—the Sonnets are to the plays. Everything we require to know of Shakespeare or his art, is already within that art. Our inca- pacity aloneprevents us seeing this fact. The invisible, but whiguitous poet, like the Duke in Measure for Measure, is everywhere behind his works,— directing us like Prospero in his isle.—drawing us on with his heavenly music (like Ariel), with the supreme end in view of some day revealing himself. It is the ironical self-portraiture of this art, that constitutes (to ourselves), the spectacle of an everlasting miracle ! In Measure for Measure, it may be seen, that the Duke, like some invisible providence, directs and secretly controls the entire action of the play. Even Angelo’s intended wickedness, is turned into an instrument of good and restitution. Nothing in that play, is the result of chance—invisible law, working behind the scenes, governs the main action. This Pantheism of the poet’s—for so we mean to consider it—is very striking. Like Prospero, the Duke in this play, has shared in men’s minds an undefined presentiment, connecting him with Shakes- peare, or the poet-author himself. That this instinct is well founded, seems to us scarcely doubtful. But if so—surely the portrait deserves further study with regard to its meaning, and possible connection with the rest of his art? Did the poet only create by fits and starts, or did he know what he was about, from the beginning? It seems more likely, that it is owr incapacity to trace this self-portraiture further, than insufficiency on the part of the author. We all see a pointedly sug- gestive parallel between Prospero and the poet-author, but we refuse to look further, and the classical hints—the masques, visions (Tempest, Cymbeline) become interpolations—because we cannot understand them! Bacon truly remarks :— “It is evident, that the dullness of men is such and so infelicitous, “that when things are put before their feet, they do not see them, “unless admonished, but pass right on.” No doubt “everything is “subtile till it be conceived,” writes the same author. ‘ What is “strange, is the result of ignorance in the case of all,” says Plato :— INTRODUCTION. xi The jewel that we find, we stop.and take it, Because we see it ; but what we do not see, We tread upon, and never think of it. Socrates taught, that God was the supreme and perfect Reason, who though invisible to the eye of man, zs everywhere present (rd Ociov mavrayod mépeoctt) and that human reason must apprehend him, in iis works. This pantheistic comprehension of Nature, is profoundly reflected in the plays. The Duke is present everywhere, behind the scenes of his apparently abandoned government. Reading the play, we see that it is us alone, (as beholders of the machinery behind this gods Theatre) who are aware of the secret working of the Duke. Angelo, Escalus, and the others, know nothing of it. And dowe not, or cannot we see the ironical portrait here presented us? It never strikes us that it is possible that all this art is pointing at ourselves, and is self-reflecting. What then is the end or aim of Shakespeare’s art? Copy of Nature. But what sort of copy—and in what degree of imitation is this copy made? The aim of this work is to znszst, that Shakespeare has imitated Nature in the second degree of imitation—not wm the third degree. And _ whoever grants this, grants another side to the poet’s art. Whoever denies it—denies the didactic element altogether to it, and makes the involved assumption, that his art is devoid of all unity. Such a work as this, must be read between the lines. There are pro- positions dismissed in a few words, that properly discussed, should run to chapters—and chapters that could extend to volumes. Of course, a work of this peculiar character, can only appeal, or be understood by a certain class of reader. It is for them, this book is published—in the profound hope, that those who have already somewhat anticipated the author, may go on to crown with fresh discoveries, what he imagines he has discovered in this work. The great literary problem of the world is Shakespeare. We maintain the nature of the problem, has never been even put,—its existence ignored! For Shakespeare’s art is studied as dead art—not as living art. Nor has any one directly propounded the theory, of the classical unity underlying the poems and plays, and which outcrops very plainly in such final pieces, as the Tempest, and Cymbeline! Such plays as these, are classical, or they are nothing. For it is the so called interpolations of masques and visions, descents of Jupiter, etc., that are in reality the brief glimpses and keys that we obtain to the other and sjnritual sade of the poet’s unities. Shakes- peare’s art, we believe (for ourselves), has the very profound aim of a self-planned and self-contained revelation through time. That revela- tion is connected with the-origin and classical source of the Drama in the Mysteries. Xli INTRODUCTION. This work has been written in a spirit of genuine inquiry, devoid from the first of any preconceived theories. We found in Shakespeare’s art, certain classical parallels, repeated from play to play, and reflected back again in the sonnets, and our aim has been in an humble way, to accept every anachronism, as founded on a profound unity, and to subject all to a great Faith, and the highest possible standard of ideal art. We hardly expect to make many converts. The dis- coverer, like the unexpected guest, does not always meet with a very cheerful welcome. And results are not always satisfactory to the advanced pioneer. "ie Would’st thou have peace? Leave the world to its mulishness Things to their natures, and fools to their foolishness, Beetles were blind in the days of yore. Finally, we entreat the kind forbearance of the reader, towards a somewhat overabundant crop of blemishes, that we are aware must be found in this work. A long strain of continued study, and over- tasked nerves, have made the self-inflicted task of correction, very dificult and somewhat imperfect in execution. The subject-matter must apologize (if it suggest anything), for the style and faults of misquotation, where overlooked in the Corrigenda. This introduction may close with the remark, that neither the pen, or the volume, can do more than sketch the barest outlines of our theory. For a great heap of MSS. remain unprinted. London, May, 1884. ##, eh. gigs CORRIGENDA. | Error. Correction. Sonnet 46 art heart - could would < », line 4 night right Foot Note (last line but one) it is they are. Line 17 Oidipons Oidipous. Line 15 fortplauzten fortplanzten Line 16 Simbolik Symbolik Foot Note (last line but one) his her Line 1, paragraph 2 pynoes puna es Line 25 (Not a Quotation) Line 1, 2nd Foot Note Poestry Poetry Line 6 arlificial artificial Last line ndeed indeed Greek quotation—foot note Javacov Java ov Line 8 siwply simply Quotation wande’st wandered Line 30 foreshadoweed foreshadowed Line 4 Prolixenes Polixenes Foot Mote teader reader Line 5, apparant apparent Line 6 Cabricator Fabricator Title of Chapter BHCNIX PHGNIX 3rd extract, last line unwept unswept SHAKESPEARE’S DIVINE ART. CHAPTER I. THE WINTERS TALE. i the criticism of Shakespeare’s plays, the first indispensable condition of their right study, is to notice how the poet deviates from the original from which he borrowed or copied. In the substitution of new names for old ones, and the introduction of fresh characters lies hid profound purpose. It is plain that the substitution of new names for the same characters has not arisen from any unworthy desire to obscure plagiarism. So far is this from the case,that we find the poet indif- ferently retaining or departing from the original names in accordance with some plan of his own, in relationship to the unity of his art. This, for example, is significantly clear in the play we are about to discuss. Fawnia, in the original story of Greene’s, becomes Perdita. And this lovely name, is significantly allied with the story of her loss and exposure. In like manner, Marina, in Pericles, derives her name from her birth at sea. We cannot over-estimate the importance of the evidence thus afforded us; for it shows us how careful, and how deep is the unity of his creations, carried even to the names of his dramatis persone. It is plain, therefore, that wherever Shakespeare has deviated in plot, nomenclature, or otherwise from the original, he has done it with purpose. This purpose, in the case of Perdita and Marina, is self- evident, and speaks for itself. But in other cases the unity of the names or their associations may lie very much deeper than we suspect, and may become a potent instrument of research. If Shakespeare has done this in the case of Perdita and Marina, it is a very fair induction to suppose he has done it elsewhere. With this preliminary remark, let us proceed to examine the original of The Winter’s Tale. B 2 _ THE WINTER’S TALE. In the first place, for what reason did Shakespeare select such and such a story for his dramatic ends and purposes? It seems to us a significant fact that he took no trouble to obscure the sources from whence he borrowed much of his art. It would have been easy for him to have so altered plot, names, and characters, as to have entirely obscured the plagiarism, if there had been any desire to do so. It seems to us, as we hope to prove in the sequel, that he rather selected his originals for the sake of their suggestiveness or adaptability to some pre-conceived idea, or plan, for whose embodiment he was seeking suitable capital. There is in connection with our theory of revelation, a profound signifi- cance in the title of some of the originals from whence he drew his plays. This is particularly the case with regard to the play we are about to study. The Winter’s Tale found its embryo in Robert Greene’s Pandosto, or, The Triumph of Time. The entire title is as follows :-— PANDOSTO. 1 THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. WHEREIN IS DISCOVERED by a pleasant Historie, that although by the meanes of sinister fortune, Truth may be concealed yet by Time in spight of fortune it is most manifestly reuealed, Pleasant for age to auoyde drowsie thoughtes, profitable for youth to eschue other wanton pastimes, and bringing to both a de- sired content. Temporis filia veritas. | By Robert Greene, Maister of Artes in Cambridge. Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit vtile dulci. Imprinted at London by Thomas Orwin for Thomas Cadman, dwelling at the Signe of the Bible, neere vnto the North doors of Paules, 1588. This is a striking title, and we shall find it still more striking by the light of the theory we shall propound. In the meanwhile let us see how Shakespeare has deviated from the original. We find on comparing the play with Greene’s story that Pandosto is altered for Leontes, and Egistus becomes Polixenes. The parts of Antigonus, Paulina, and Autolycus are as Steevens correctly states :— “‘ Shakespeare’s own invention.” Perdita plays the part of Fawnia, and Hermione of Bellaria. In the matter of the reconstruction of the plot, + THE WINTER'S TALE. 3 there is considerable alteration.—Bellaria dies in the middle of Greene’s story on hearing of the death of her son Garinter, and Pandosto un- naturally fallen in love with his own daughter, puts an end to himself at the end of the tale——Nothing of the original is preserved except its one striking feature of jealousy and exposure of the child. This indeed is the chief centre of the tale, round which it revolves, and from which it derives its title, we mean the loss of Fawnia and the inno- cence of Bellaria. And in remarking how Shakespeare has adhered to these main points, we imagine we are drawing attention to the chief features of the tale that fascinated him. Let it be supposed that in borrowing Greene’s story, he took it on account of its title, in relation to its subject matter,—disharmony and separation, followed by reconciliation and heavenly harmony as in Cymbeline and Pericles,—the exposure of an infant and its re-discovery through time. Curiously, this is a favourite subject with Shakespeare. It forms the chief element of Pericles. It is presented to us under the guise of the lost children of Cymbeline, and the resuscitation of the supposed dead Hero, as in the present case of Hermione. Posthumus (a significant name), is sepa- rated, through time from his wife, to be restored to her in like manner. Restorations to life, as in the case of Thaisa occur elsewhere. But what indeed is striking, is what Mr. Fleay terms the “ extraordinary lapse of time” to be found between the acts in both the plays of Pericles and the Winter’s Tale. Combined with mysterious hints as to time, we find an extraordinary sense of prophetic reality about these plays. This it will be replied, is part and parcel of the poet’s art. Exactly, we reply, but this by no means gives us the unity, or the source of the strength of this sense of reality. It has always struck us as a curious literary phenomenon, that no one has as yet, called attention to the extraordinary parallel presented between Perdita and Persephoné (or Proserpine), and between Hermione and Demétér (or Ceres). This parallel is complete even to the actual title of the play,—A Winter’s Tale—What is the story of Demétér and Persephone, and what is its signification? Sir George Cox relates the story as follows :— “The myth which gives most fully, and most clearly the history of “the earth, through the changing year, is to be found, not so much in “the legend of Adonis, as in the legend of Persephone herself. This “story as related in the hymn to Demétér, tells us how the beautiful “ maiden was playing with her companions on the flowery Nysian plain, ‘‘when far away across the meadow, her eye caught the gleam of a ‘< Narcissus flower. As she ran towards it, a fragrance which reached to ‘‘the heaven, and made the earth and sea laugh for gladness, filled her ‘with delight, but when she stretched out her arms to seize the stalk B 2 4 THE WINTER'S TALE. — ee EL ee ‘‘ with its” hundred flowers, the earth gaped, and before her stood the “immortal horses bearing the car of the King Polydegmon, who placed “ her by his side.” The story goes on to relate how Demétér threw the dark veil of Winter over her shoulders, and set out in search of her lost child Perse- phone. The ploughs in the meanwhile turn up the soil in vain, and the barley seed is scattered along the furrows to no purpose. “In Olympus itself, there was only gloom and sadness, so that Zeus “ charged Iris, to go and summon Demétér to the palace of the Gods. “The mourning mother will not leave the place of her exile till her eyes “have looked upon her child once more. Then Hermes at the bidding “of Zeus, enters the dismal under world, and Polydegmon (Pluto) con- “sents to the return of Persephone, who leaps with delight for the joy “that is coming. Persephone however, has unwittingly eaten the pome- ‘“oranate seed, and must come back to Aidoneus again. A third part “only of the year she must be queen in Hades. Through all the other ‘‘ months, she is to be once more the beautiful maiden, who sported on “the plains of Nysa. The wrath of Demétér has departed with her “orief, the air is filled with fragrance, and the corn-fields wave with “ripening grain.” Sir George Cox considers the myth so transparent, as to need but little interpretation. He says :— “ The sequel of the hymn simply depicts the joy of returning Spring “and Summer, when the mourning mother is exalted in glory to the ‘everlasting halls of Olympos. Hence, so far as the meaning of the ‘‘myth is concerned, it matters little whether Demétér be herself, the “earth grieving for the lost treasures of summer, or the dawn-mother “‘ mourning for the desolation of the Earth that she loves. This story is ‘“‘naturally found in all lands where the difference between Summer and ‘““ Winter is sufficiently marked to leave on the mind the vmpression of “* death and resurrection.” —(MytHoLoGcy oF THE Aryans, Vol IL, p. 300). All authorities concur in this interpretation ofthe myth. It is hardly necessary to add, that this myth was the central light of the ancient Mysteries of Eleusis. For eighteen hundred years were based upon it instruction and teaching of the immortality of the soul, of the conflict of light and darkness, harmony and discord, mystery and revelation. Persephone is the daughter of Zeus and Demétér, the summer child of the marriage of the Heavens and Earth, so abundantly mentioned by the Greek and Latin poets. Mr. Brown remarks (Vol L, p. 281, Tue Great Dionystak Mytn) :-— “From the happy fertile earth, and the beautiful benignant heaven, ‘“‘the bestower of bright sunshine and the refreshing rain, springs the ‘‘ green earth-mantle, chequered with the hues, and perfumed with the EE eee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee —_ ere ee ee Oe - 'PHE WINTER’S TALE. 5 “ odours of all flowers, expanding smilingly beneath the bright beams of “Phoibos Apollon, ‘a thing of beauty and a joy for ever,’ for Persephone* “is the glad light and life of the apparent world around, that bursts ‘‘forth and dies, and rises in immortal being and glory, no mere Phanes “or earthly spirit of material visibility, but a concept infinitely higher “and purer, nobler far, and more spiritual, and as such is pictured as a “ beautiful maiden, stainless, innocent, and gladsome. Of all the truth- “spun legends which our earlier brethren of mankind have left us, I “know of none more exquisite, and in its sequel more august than “ this.” Now what are the leading features of this myth? First, a lost maiden, and the earth-mother mourning for her. This mother is the sleeping earth during winter. With the recovery of Persephone, the earth ceases to be dead, for with the spring it puts on fresh life and beauty. The myth of Demétér ¢s therefore a Winter’s Tale. The wanderings of Ceres was simply an allegorical drama of the loss and return of spring. The procession was led by the torch-bearer (Dadouchos), who represented the sun, a significant symbol that. the sun alone could restore the lost maiden. Now let us parallel the Winter’s Tale, as written by Shakespeare, and the myth we are contemplating from its intrinsic side of signification, as a symbol of the alternation of the seasons, and the resurrection of the soul. If we substitute Hermione for Demétér, and Perdita for Persephone, we are immediately met with an extraordinary similitude of circumstance, which we will examine separately. In the first place, Hermione falls like Winter into her death-sleep, or art sleep, with the exposure of Perdita. Now comes the significant point of this parallel. Hermione is restored to life, through the restoration and re-discovery of Perdita. Perdita, like Persephone, is a lost child ; Perdita, like Perse- phone, is so connected with the Spring through the text, that we can hardly doubt the intention. So wedded is Perdita to flowers and vernal allusions, that it is common to find this unconsciously noticed by almost all writers upon this play. Mr. Swinburne, for example, says :— “«« At the sunrise of Perdita, besides Florizel, it seems as if the snows of ‘sixteen winters had melted altogether into the splendour of one un- “‘ utterable spring. They smell April and May in a sweeter sense than “it could be said of your Master Fenton,” d&e., ke. Whether Mr. Swinburne is suggesting more, and saying less than he thinks, we cannot say, but for all that, the simile is true in every sense. Perdita is an embodiment of sheep-shearing, flowers, and Whitsun pastorals, all culminating with the development of the play, as it unfolds * Plutarch identifies Persephone with Spring, and Cicero calls her the seed of the fruits of the field. 6 THE WINTER'S TALE. ee eee its Winter’s Tale, and blossoms into the full-blown splendour of summer. But the text will be our judge :—As we have already remarked, Perdita like Persephone, is a lost child; like Persephone, her return to her mother is marked with the most unmistakeable vernal allusions. . Scene IV.—Acrt IV. / Fuorizet. These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no shepherdess but Flora Peering in April’s front. This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty Gods, And you the Queen on’t. : Perdita is Flora, the Goddess of flowers. What is this but the spring peering in April’s front? But the thought that was running in Shakespeare’s mind in double connection with Perdita and Proserpine is still more marked below. O Proserpina ! | For the flowers now, that fright’st thou let’st fall From Dis’ waggon. Nothing could better betray the idea that was subserving the creation of this character, than the above beautiful lines. No allusions are omitted that shall be wanting to fill up the relationship of Winter to Summer. PERDITA.—Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on Summer’s death, nor on the birth Of trembling Winter. Again, in reply to Camillo’s speech :— CamILLo.—I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing. PERDITA.— Out, alas ! You’d beso lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. In Act V., Scene I., line 151, Leontes says to Perdita :— “Welcome hither, As is the spring to the earth.” We find that Hermione’s separation from Leontes dates from the throwing out of Perdita; and that her apparent resuscitation coin- cides with the return and restoration of her lost child. Suppose Perdita’s exposure to represent the death of summer,—then Hermione’s supposed death, is but the divorce of sun and earth during the Winter solstice. In both the plays of Pericles and The Winter’s Tale, the following parallels may be noticed:— Two lost children form the central pivot of each plot. In both plays,two mothers are separated from their husbands, and miraculously come to life again. And to complete this crowning parallel, this double restoration to happi- ness, follows upon the recovery of the two lost children, as uniting them - THE WINTER'S TALH. yi afresh to their husbands. It seems to us, that Pericles is an early attempt to embody the same subject matter as forms the main element of The Winter’s Tale. In both stories there is the predominant character of separation, and a lost child, to be followed by the harmony of re- discovery. Persephone is the daughter of the marriage of earth and sky, —of spirit and matter. And here we re-touch our duo-uno paradox of creation. The entire myth of Demétér as represented at Eleusis, was one of light and darkness,—of harmony and disharmony. Creuzer tells us (Vol iv., p. 387, Ed. iv.) :— ‘Hine grand lehre der Eleusinien war der satz,vom kreig und Frieden “vom, Streit der Materie mit dem Geist, deren Liuterung, durch diesen, “ der satz von Entzweiung und Versdhnung, der in der Pythagoreischen ‘‘ Bezeichnung der Zweiheit oder Dyas nachklingt.” This is indeed, the subject of the Winter’s Tale,—discord and separa- tion, in contrast with reconciliation and harmony. Now we are here dealing with the most universal of philosophic subjects We are con- templating the relationship of mind to matter, of unity to form, of good to evil, and of light to darkness. The entire universe is embraced by this antagonism,—for it is creation. We shall presently ask if it is not also Shakespeare’s art subject. It is from the embraces of the sun and earth that the ancients pictured the summer as the fruit and offspring of plenty. Plutarch Says :-— “The sky appeared to men to perform the functions of a father, as the *‘ earth those of a mother. The sky was the father, for it cast seed into **the bosom of the earth, which in receiving them, became fruitful, and “ brought forth, and was the mother.” This union has been sung by Virgil :— “Tum pater omnipotens, fecundis imbribis ether, Conjugis in gremium, letze descendit.”—(Georgic II.) Columella has related, in his treatise on agriculture, the loves of nature, or the marriage of heaven and earth, which takes place in the spring of the year. Donaldson says (THEATRE OF THE GREEKS) :— “Generally, the productiveness of the earth is regarded as the result “ of a marriage between the god of the sky (whether he appears as the “ genial sun, or the refreshing rain), and the goddess who represents the “teeming earth, and weds her daughter to Plutus or Pluto, the owner ‘‘ of the treasure hidden below the ground, either actually, as metallic “riches, or potentially, as the genus of vegetable growth.”* * “ Postremo pereunt imbres, ubi eos pater Aither, In gremium mater Terrai preecipitant.”—Lucretius I. 251, 8 THE WINTER'S TALE. Let us suppose that Leontes represents the heavens, or the sun and sky, as Zeus wedded to the earth,—Demétér, and in this particular case, Hermione. In this case we must clearly understand that this marriage represents the union of spirit to matter, of soul to body. It answers completely to the Eleusinian symbolism of light and darkness,— the conflict of the two great principles of nature,—for through this myth all these were symbolised. We now will examine the name of Hermione. Harmonia, who was married to Cadmus, is but another name for Hermione. This name of Harmony well symbolises the recon- ciliation of the discord of dualism. Mr. Brown tells us (THe Great Dionysiak Mytu, Vol IL. p. 237) :—“‘ The marriage of Cadmus with ‘“¢ Harmonia, zs the union of Thought with the orderly material world.” This is something like what we would suggest with regard to the marriage of Leontes and Hermione. This marriage we suggest is connected with the duo-uno subject of the sonnets, the paradox of the phoenix and turtle, in short, the creation of Shakespeare’s art. |The poet has substi- tuted the name of Hermione for that of Bellaria in Greene’s tale. He has done this with a purport. Harmonia or Hermionea, are identical. She was a daughter of Mars and Venus, who married Cadmus. The gods, except Juno, honoured her nuptials with their presence, and she received as a present a rich veil and a splendid necklace, which had been made by Vulcan. We ask, if the reference in Act II., Scene II., of the play :— “The mantle of Queen Hermiones’, her jewel about the neck of it.” is not a sufficiently significant hint? The connection of Demétér with Hermione or Harmonia, is well known to all students of mythology. Lempriere tells us that Hermione is the name of a city in Argolis, where Demétér (Ceres) had a famous temple.* Now, Eriphyle, (mentioned as the nurse of Polydore and Cadwal, in Cymbeline), was bribed with the gift of the peplos and necklace of Harmonia by Polynices. It is indeed curious that the rival of Leontes in the play is Polixenes,—a name sub- stituted for that of Egistus in Greene’s tale. We must seriously ask if the Polixenes of the play, and the “ mantle of Queen Hermione, and her * “ Auf der Berge (Pron) bei der neuenstadt der Hermioner war ein. beriihmtes Heiligthum der Ceres.”’—(Creuzer, Vol iv., pages 239 and 240). [Aelianus a. a. O. nennt jenes Ceresfest zu Hermione X9ovia eopTy, woraus Meur- sius x 9ovv0 gebildet. Boeckh wollte fiir den Namen des Festes x Ooveva. Pausanias II. 35. 4, nennt die Gottin yfovia, das Fest xO6via, wie auch die neuesten Herausgeber haben drucken lessen. Man vergl. Jacobs ad Anthol. gr. II. 1. p. 285 sq. und ad Aelian. H. A. p. 874.--Hermione te Eppiovn) war der gemeinsame Name der Stadt und der Gottinnen ; wie denn auch zu Syracus eine Demeter und eine Kora, beide mit Namen Hermione, verehrt wurden (Hesych. p. 1439). Has the title of Plato’s Banquet no connection with these festivals to Ceres ? Mark the speech of Diotima with regard to the Mysteries ; note how Shakespeare terms his art a “ Painted Banquet.”—Author. THE WINTERS TALE. 9 jewel about the neck of it,” have nothing in common with the classical story of the peplos and necklace of Harmonia or Hermione. Cadmus was the husband of Hermione. Leontes corresponds to Cadmus in relationship. Shakespeare’s art aim seems to have been both to obscure and reveal at once. He tells us so repeatedly in his sonnets—(Sonnet 46) :— Mine eye and artare at a mortal war* How to divide the conquest of thy sight, Mine eye, my heart thy picture’s sight could bar, My heart mine eye, the freedom of that night.”’ Again,—(Sonnet 48) :— “ “ How careful was I when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use, it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust.” We might multiply instances, but this subject of Participation, or of obscurity and revelation through time, as dwelt upon in the sonnets, will appear in its proper place. It seems to us that Hermione stands as half revelation of the classical myth with which she is connected. Po- lixenes in like manner, suggests the story of his rivalry with his brother Kteocles, before Thebes ; a conflict which is closely connected with the myth of Cadmus, be itremarked. The conflict of Polynices and Eteocles is, according to Sir George Cox, the antinomy of light and darkness. He says (Vol L., p. 391, MyrHonoey or Aryans), speaking of twin deities :— “The twin pair adopt various forms, one of them shines brightly, the ‘other is black ; twin sisters are they, the one black, the other white,— “phrases which bring before us the rivalry not only of the Dioscoursi, “but of the Theban Eteocles and Polyneikes.” That the story of the seven before Thebest has a mythical signification and is no historical fact, can scarcely be doubted. We dare not enter upon a discussion of its meaning, but must rest satisfied with Sir George Cox’s suggestions. ‘The emblems born upon the shields of the seven, leave little doubt upon this point. For example we are told Tydeus bore upon his shield, “‘the heavens studded with stars, and in the midst the ‘mightiest of the stars, the eye of night, even the moon.” And in reply to the messenger who asks the king whom he will set against this man, Eteocles replies :—‘‘I tremble not at any man’s adorning, and * This war of his art may correspond with the conflict of the spirit with matter as typical of Eleusis. + So we find Dikaiarchos writing (cir. B.C. 310), a few yearsafter the restoration of the walls of Thebai on the old site by Kassandros ; describes the city as circular in form, a most interesting illustration of what was doubtless the original shape of the city of the Phenician Kadmos, which with its seven gates and their planetary symbolism was an architectural representation of the Kosmogony, and as such was the suitable abode of the Kosmic Dionysos.”—THE GREAT DioNysIAk MytTH, Vol I, p. 112—Brown. 10 THE WINTERS TALE. enna “ devices wound not. And indeed, as for the might that thou tellest me ‘‘to be upon his shield,” etc., etc. The third champion, we are told, “ driveth a chariot with four horses, “in whose nostrils are pipes making a whistling sound,’—evidently the four winds. The last of the seven, is Polynices, the brother of the king, who has upon his shield the motto, “ J am justice, and I will bring “ back this man to the kingdom, which is his of right.” It is a significant parallel to these last words, that Shakespeare’s Polixenes plays through his son Florizel, exactly this part of Justice. Polixenes is the cause (though innocent cause), of the separation of Leontes and Hermione, and the exposure of Perdita. But he is also the indirect instrument through his line of the reconciliation of Leontes and Hermione, through the finding of Perdita. If we accept Sir George Cox’s authority upon the subject of the seven before Thebes, we find it is an embodiment of the conflict of light and darkness,—of mind and matter, —of truth and error. One of these brothers shines brightly ; the other black. We here touch ground with the dark mistress of the sonnets.* Supposing Shakespeare to have desired to only half reveal this myth, as in the case of Hermione, he leaves us to guess the other half by substitution. That Cadmus symbolised the sun, we find authority to support us.T And that Eteocles represented the same principle through light, we have already seen. The name of Leontes is Shakespeare’s original substitu- tion for Pandosto of the original tale. The Lion is that sign in the Zodiac commonly called the house of the sun. For it is in this sign (our July), that the sun stands highest. The Egyptians remarked that the overflow- ing of the Nile corresponded with the period when the Sun stood in the Lion, and accordingly, gave all figures of the sun the lion’s head.{ * We shall suggest later on how the sonnets represent Shakespeare’s creative art principles of this conflict of light and darkness. This conflict is the antinomy of love and hate, two masculine and feminine principles, as Androgynous unity. ++ The learned Bochart supposes that Hermione or Harmonia was a native of Mount Hermon. Bryant (Analysis of Ancient Mythology), maintains :—“ Cadmus was one “of the names of Osiris, the chief deity of Egypt. Both Europa and Harmonia are of “like nature. Harmonia, the wife of Cadmus, who has been esteemed a mere woman, “seems to have been an emblem of Nature, and the fostering nurse of all things. “Again, the deity called by the Greeks, Harmonia, was introduced among the “ Canaanites, very early, by people from Egypt, and was worshipped in Sidon and “the adjacent countries, by the name of Baal-Kermon.”’—Analysis of Ancient Mytho- logy, vol ii., p. 484-450. t The priests of the Leontica (sacrificial festivals among the ancients in honour of the Sun), “ Were called Leontes, because they represented the sun under the form of “a lion radiant, surmounted by a tiara, and gripping in its fore paws the horns of a “bull.’—Royal Masonic Cyclopedia. This cult is closely connected with the worship of Diana of Ephesus, and through Heraclitus with Plato’s doctrines. Light and darkness, contrast or opposition, are the fundamental principles of this philosophy. That it is Shakespeare’s creative art principles we have not the slightest doubt. EEE ee THE WINTER'S TALE. 11 B. C. Jones, in his lectures upon the Ancient Drama, remarks of Cadmus :—‘“‘ Cadmus means Osiris, the Sun, and is known by the fol- “lowing names :—Hermes (Cadmilus-Hermes), Achad-Ham, Acadamus, “ Academus, Achad, Achon, Achor, Thoth, Athoth, and Canathoth, also “ Ham, this last name takes us back to Voah’s son again. The followers “of the supposed Cadmus were very numerous ; they were known as the “ Cadmians, Cadmonites, Ellopians, Oropians, Ophile, Heliade, Hivites, “and Hermonians; this last name is from Harmonia, by which also “Cadmus is described. A story is told that his wifes name was ““ Hermione, whom he married at Thebes, and that his sister’s ‘name was Europa, whom he had travelled to find, by order of his “father, Agenor, king of Phcenicia; both the names Hermione and “ Huropa meant the same person as Cadmus. All these various names “siven to Cadmus, are entirely typical of the Sun, for they called “Cadmus, a great traveller, and as they believed the sun moved (not “the earth), it is easily seen why they gave him so many names.” We ask to be allowed to assume that the jealousy of Leontes for Polixenes is the jealousy of Time, so often expressed in the sonnets. This jealousy, is the jealousy of an immortality, confounding all our commonplace and usual opinions of Shakespeare’s genius. It is, We assume, so wedded to plan and revelation through time, that this art represents in itself the conflict of mind and matter, with regard to its own creative principles. What is it that brings winter and restores summer, but Time? And if we examine the opening of the play, the text confirms our theory :— POLIXENES.—Nine changes of the watery star hath been The shepherd’s note, since we have left our throne Without a burden : time as long again, Would be filled up, my brother, with our thanks, And yet we should for perpetnity Go hence in debt : and therefore like a cipher Yet standing in rich place, I multiply With one we thank you, many thousands more That go before tt. This passage is so curiously involved, as indeed well to suggest more ° than plain language ordinarily employed in such commonplaces. The entire involution of the style is heavy with the burthen of Time. The allusion to ‘ perpetuity,” and to a “cipher yet standing in rich place,” is striking, because the metaphor, unless in harmony with some spiritual unity such as we are begging, is strained. What indeed could refer better to Time’s perpetuity, than a cipher or figure that stands in “rich place,’—meaning the position by which the ciphers of a number are index of its quantity. That the whole passage answers well to a per- sonified abstraction of Time thanking his brother, the Sun (who is as it were himself through the alternations of light and darkness), is possible. 1 THE WINTER’S TALE. Polixenes could never thank Leontes sufficiently for the years (revolu- tions of the sun) which mark time. So endless are they, that his thanks if compared to a rich cipher of enormous magnitude might be multiplied to eternity, and not pay the debt of those “ that go before it.” We here remind the reader that Polynices and his brother Eteocles were supposed to reign alternately year by year. This, like night and day, is a rela- tionship that hints at Time itself. Speaking of the two kings, Camillo remarks :— CamILLo.—Sicilia cannot show himself over kind to Bohemia! They were trained together in their childhoods ; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies ; that they have seemed to be together, though absent, shook hands as over a vast, and embraced as it were from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves ! “Shook hands as over a vast,” is a remarkable expression. If we compare the chorus of Time, introduced at the commencement of the fourth act, we find a strange spirit of prophecy, twice pointedly related to Time in a manner that seems to say more than is necessary for the object of the play, unless it hint at some reality. Of Perdita, Time says :— What of her ensues I list not prophecy ; but let Time’s news Be known when tis brought forth. A shepherd’s daughter And what to her adheres, which follows after, Is the argument of Time. Of this allow, If ever you have spent time worse ere now ; If never, yet that Time himself doth say He wishes earnestly you never may. The introduction of this chorus of Time is a most remarkable feature in itself, Because it is introduced when we have already completed three acts of the play, and what follows speaks almost immediately for itself. This chorus points to something serious, and beyond the mere surface of the play. Shakespeare has done the same thing in Peri- cles,—a play which presents a complete parallel to The Winter’s Tale. But in this case the chorus of Gower runs throughout the play. This clumsy prop of external aid betrays an inexperienced hand. But ‘at the same time it may have a serious intention connected with Time in reality. We must own that to anticipate the action of the play as in the Winter's Tale, does not heighten or intensify the interest except through the mystery it excites. It is contrary to all the rules of dra- matic composition, where the action ought to require no adventitious aid outside the characters themselves and the scenes. If, as we contest, the poet is dealing with a real unity, and not merely an ideal one, then we anal Se eee ee ee eee “ THE WINTER'S TALE. ks say this chorus aptly fulfils its mission. For it gives a mysterious pro- phetic character to the tale of Perdita, as laying far off in the future still. This has been commented upon by others already. It seems to us that whatever Polixenes may mean in connection with the unity of the play, he includes in himself a great element of Time ; for he unites through his issue, the circle he unwittingly broke. We desire presently to call attention to the repeated references to Winter and Summer in the Sonnets. And these allusions we shall show cover in some profound and recondite scheme of art, whose keynote is revela- tion. But of this in its place. Now for our theory, afterwards for the proofs. The Winter’s Tale in our opinion is the self-reflecting portrait of Shakespeare’s own art in conflict with Time. Leontes and Hermione represent in union not only the sun and earth, but the spiritual sun of Shakespeare’s invisible unity, and its outward art expression. These two we suggest are the Phcenix and Turtle,—the duo-uno paradox of mind and matter in Nature, and of idea and form in art. Now the union of sun and earth in their full potentiality is summer,—their divorce, winter. Perdita may represent the summer child of Shakespeare’s art, its full glory, as known to him, and as yet to be discovered by us, through Time. Is Perdita, like Marina, some lost key; the soul of Shakespeare’s art,— its spring and revelation waiting its reswrrection ? ‘We assert that the Winter’s Tale is interwoven with the cen- tral Myth of the Eleusinian Mysteries, as typified in the wanderings of Ceres. That Myth is the phenomenal one of the alternation of summer and winter, upon which was hung the doctrine of immortality ofthe soul, of light and darkness, of matter and mind, of conflict and reconciliation. We suggest that the play derives its very name of the Winter’s Tale from the incorporation of this myth, under the disguised forms of Perdita and Hermione. The separation of Leontes and Her- mione is a divorce of Time. Perdita, the child of light, can alone bring harmony and reconciliation. Is she the full glory of the revealed summer or soul of his art, when Shakespeare’s spiritual sun shall be no longer invisible to us, and separated to our intelligence from its phenomenal exoteric form, Hermione? Is Hermione upon her pedestal, Shakespeare’s entire art awaiting the breath of life that Perdita can alone bring with the spring of her beauty ? Is Perdita herself, like Marina in Pericles, part of the revelation we are now but suggesting? But is she more,—is she the gradual crescent light of summer, and her growth the history of Shakespearian criticism 4 Is this why Polixenes identifies art with nature? Is the divorce of Hermione, and her supposed death, a creative separation of idea and “ 14 THE WINTER'S TALE. form through time? Is her sleeping death the Winter of his art? Is it the separation of his ideal and realsides? Like a God, Shakespeare's reality is invisible to us, for it is his as yet unrevealed unity.* Is, on the other hand, this outward art, that we now take as real, his unreality Hermione as a statue? Perdita, the sleeping beauty in the wood,—briar-rose, sleeps for hundreds of years until Prince Florizel comes with his gladdening rays to wake her from her trance-like sleep. In this case Perdita is but the awakening of her mother, the earth, from the deep sleep of winter to the glory of, and life of, the spring and summer. A. Wilder remarks (in his Introduction to the Bacchic and LEleusinian Mysteries of Taylor) :— ‘‘The veriest dreams of life, pertaining as they do to the minor mys- “tery of death, have in them more than external fact can explain or ‘reach ; and Myth, however much she is proved to be a child of earth, “igs also received among men as the child of heaven. The Cinder- ‘Wench of the Ashes will become the Cinderella of the Palace, and be “wedded to the King’s son.” The reader remembers, perhaps, having read before of Prince Florizel in some German fairy stories. The union of the wildest dreams of the imagination with reality, is true miracle. It is the transformation of the ideal into the real, and if this play deals with reality, we may under- stand, perhaps, why Shakespeare has introduced thisking’s son, and made Perdita a princess brought up in a sheep cot. Every incident of this play is, perhaps, the union of reality under the guise of poetry with the ideal, to teach a lesson that poetry is divine, and is indeed the only real. But we anticipate. If we now hark back, and contemplate the title of the original from which Shakespeare borrowed ; the title will be found allied with Time. PANDOSTO, OR THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. We would here insert Sir George Cox’s remark about the story of the House in the Wood :— “The return of Persephone is strangely set forth in the story of the “House in the Wood, which in other stories is the house, or case of ice, “in which the seemingly dead princess is laid ; the ice at the return of “spring. ‘The sides crack, ‘the doors were slammed back against the NER ANN emi mT REE * Compare the Duke’s ubiquity yet invisibility in Measure for Measure. ’ ' “ i 7 ul » _ ' ¥ 1 ee ee ee Ne Ea eee - PHE WINTER’S TALE. 15 *¢ walls ; the beams groaned as if they were being riven away from their “ «fastenings ; the stairs fell down, and at last it seemed as if the whole “roof fell in.” On waking from her sleep the maiden finds herself in a ‘splendid palace, surrounded by regal luxuries. The maiden has re- “turned from the dreary abode of Hades to the green couch of the life- “ giving mother.” In the tale of Cinderella, we have another embodied myth of death and re-birth, of Summer and Winter. The very name, Cinderella, “ the “ cinder-wench of the ashes,” as A. Wilder observes, points to close con- nection with earth and with death, and thus with resurrection. We cannot refrain from quoting the poet’s final words, attached to the threne, or death-lamentation of the poem of the Phenix and Turtle :— Beauty, truth, and rarity, Grace in all simplicity, Here enclosed in Cinders lie. To this we shall further refer in its fitting place. At present we sug- gest that Shakespeare has embraced in his art the entire universe. Has he taken the Sun, as we hope to-prove, as the inward sign of his invi- sible Platonic logos,—Adonis,—the beauteous and lovely youth of the sonnets? On the other hand, is the earth-mother the prototype of his exoteric art? These two exhaust creation and embrace the cycle of a creative synthesis in an endless unity. The title of the play we are discussing has never yet received any justification at the hands of criticism. What connection possibly existed between it and the play has never been yet suggested, except as a mere story told over a winter's fire.* Our theory is something beyond mere trifling ; we are dealing not only with the embodiment of a mere myth into a play, but with, perhaps, a key to Shakespeare’s entire art. In borrowing this central myth of classical times we may understand what the poet means when he says he has made— “ Antiquity for aye his page.” —(Sonnet 108), The story of Demétér and Persephone is simply a personified allegory of the seasons. Round this myth, and from the mysterious choruses that arose in the worship of Demétér, Dionysus, and Apollo, the drama owes tts origin. ‘That Shakespeare should incorporate the fountain head and origin of his magic art, is truly overwhelming from the profundity * Possibly Shakespeare chose his title from ‘ A Winter’s Night’s Dream.” The term “A Winter's Tale,’ was familiarly used to express a wonderful story, suitable to be told over the fire on Winter’s nights, ‘So Iam content to drive away “ the time with an old wives winter’ 8 talee—Pecle’s Old Wives Tale.” —(Hist. of Dra- matic Int., Ward]. 16 THE WINTER’S TALE. of the idea. Is it possible that he reconciles not only the divorce and disharmony of his own art through this play, but that of classical and present times also? This myth is most significant to us from the point of view we are studying, as asymbol of resurrection and re-birth after death. Does he tell us that the separation of his two sides of art during Time, is to be called Winter? - Let this sad interim like the ocean be, Which parts the shore, where two contracted-new Come daily to the banks ; that, when they see, Return of Love more blest may be the view, Or call it Winter, which being full of care Makes Summer’s welcome thrice more wished, more rare. The myth of Demétér and Persephone,* is a myth of Winter and Summer,—or darkness and light. In winter the leaf has perished, and the beauty of the summer vanished into the dreary darkness of the underworld,—of Hades ; the invisible ; the kingdom of Pluto (Ploutos), the abode of buried treasures. The story founded upon the seasons, is a spiritual emblem of the destiny of the soul after death. There is hope for all. Adonis, Baldur, Linus, Attys, all these beautiful and lovely youths must die with the declension of the summer’s sun into the winter’s signs, but they shall rise again. This conflict of light with darkness, of teeming vegetation and barren winter, was a peg whereon the ancients hung the most profound and abstract truths. The sum- mer’s sun became a symbol of the intellectual sun of the soul in the mansions of the blessed, or in the fields of Elysium. Whilst on the other hand, Winter became the type of Hell, which means in its etymo- — logical derivation (helya) the place of concealment. Creuzer tells us, (Vol. IV., p. 131) :— ‘Dionysos ist die sonne, auch nach der Mysterienlehre Hiermit ward “die Vorstellung von der sonnenbahn und von der seelenbahn durch “den Thierkreis verbunden. Er wandelt jahrlich die doppelte Bahn “den Weg des Winters, und den des Sommers. Dieselbe Bahn ist auch “den seelen vorgezeichnet.” * The mythus of Demétér and her daughter embodies the idea that the productive powers of the earth or nature rest, or are concealed, during the winter season, Later philosophical writers, and perhaps the mysteries also, referred the disappearance and return of Persephone to the burial of the body of man, and the immortality of his soul.— Dictionary of Antiquities, Smith. Plutarch identifies her with the spring. Cicero (De Nat. Deor. ii. 26,) calls her the seed of the fruits of the field.—Compare Lydus. De Meno. pp. 90, 284; Porphy. De Ant. Nymph. p. 118, Ed. Barnes. In the mysteries of Eleusis, the return of Cora (Persephone) from the lower world, was regarded as the symbol of immortality, and hence she was frequently represented on Sarcophagi. In the mystical theories of the Orphics, and what are called the Pla- tonists, Cora is described as the all pervading goddess of nature,who both produces and destroys everything.—Dictionary of Myth., and Biog. of the Ancients. ‘THE WINTER’S TALE. 17 Bacon, in his Wisdom of the Ancients, identifies Proserpina with the Spirit of Nature. He also fully recognises the significance attached to the divided year, during six months of which Proserpina dwells with her mother Ceres on earth, and for the other half in the kingdom of darkness with her husband Ploutos. This he interprets {as will be seen on reading the extract contained in the footnote)*, as a myth of summer and winter. It is most important for our purpose to be thus enabled to prove that the interpretation of this beautiful fable, was as familiar to Shakespeare’s age, as it is to ours. The Wisdom of the Ancients was published in 1609, and written some time before publication. Ben Jonson was the inti- mate friend of both Bacon and Shakespeare, indeed he translated Bacon’s works into Latin. If any objection were possibly made, on the score that such reading of classical Myth was foreign to the age, or to Shakespeare, this common friendship of Ben Jonson’s would solve the difficulty. Now in making Proserpina the spirit of the universe, Bacon greatly assists our theory. Proserpina is the spiritual, and therefore intellectual invisible soul of visible nature. She is therefore a type of re-birth and of resurrection. As spirit, she re- presents the lost life or vitality of the earth during winter. Does Hermione in the play, represent Ceres, and by reflection Shakespeare’s own art, from its exoteric and purely phenomenal side; that is during her death-sleep,—the Winter’s Tale? Is Proserpina the lost unity of Shakespeare’s art, and as summer, the full glory of its spiritual light and signification at the meridian of their revelation and heavenly glory? Is the separation of Shakespeare’s esoteric meaning from its exoteric or phenomenal beauty, the separation of Summer and Winter, —the exposure of Perdita and of Marina? * Bacon says :—“‘ By Proserpina, the ancients meant that ethereal spirit, which “being separated from the upper globe, is shut up and detained under the earth re- “presented by Pluto. . . . This spirit, the power celestial, “‘ shadowed by Ceres, strives with infinite sedulity to recover and get again : for that “brand or burning torch of ether, which Ceres carried in her hand, doth doubtless “signify the sun, which enlighteneth the whole circuit of the earth, and would be of “the greatest moment to recover Pr oserpina, if possibly it might hetiaw: “ But Proserpina abides still, the reason of which is accurately and excellently pro- “pounded in the conditions between Jupiter and Ceres : for first it is most certain “there are two ways to keep spirit in solid and terrestial matter : the one by consti- “ pation and obstruction, which is mere imprisonment and constraint ; the other by _, edministration or proportionable nutriment, which it receives willingly and of its ‘own accord ; for after that the included spirit begins to feed and nourish itself, it “ makes no haste to be gone, but is, as it were, linked to its earth ; and this is pointed “at by Proserpina, her eating of Pomegranate ; which, if she had not done, she had (ong since been recovered by Ceres, with her torch compassing the earth. : : The second condition concer ning the six months custom, it is no other “than an elegant description of the division of the year, seeing the spirit mixed with “the earth appears above ground in vegetable bodies during the summer months, and “in the winter sinks down again.”— Wisdom of the Ancients. Works, (ML untague). C 18 THE WINTER'S TALE. So important is this theory of ours with regard to Shakespeare, that too much time cannot be expended upon the discussion of the entire myth connected with Thebes, Kadmos, and Hermione, because it is very plain that the introduction of Polynices into the Winter’s Tale, has close classical connection with Harmonia or Hermione. Let us note some parallel points of resemblance existing between the play and the story of the seven before Thebes. In the first place there is the rivalry (or jealousy) of Leontes for Polixenes. This parallels the rivalry of the two brothers Eteocles and Polyneikes. In the classical story Polyneikes becomes an exile, in much the same way that Shakespeare’s Polixenes takes flight. The difference in the spelling of the two names can by no means outweigh the evidence furnished by the connection with Har- — monia and her necklace, with which he bribed Eriphyle. Sir George Cox points out the close resemblance afforded by almost all the corre- lative deities of Greek and Vedic mythology, and the twin heroes whether of the east or west. ‘‘ Thus,” he says, “ there is a close parallel between “‘the Dioskouroi and the sons of Oidipons. The former may not be seen “ together, the latter agree to reign over Thebes in turn.” Upon these - twin dieties, Sir George Cox says :— “The twin pair adopt various forms ; one of them shines brightly, the “ other is black ; twin sisters are they, the one black, the other white ; “‘ phrases which bring before us the rivalry not only of the Dioskouroi “but of the Theban, Eteokles and Polyneikes.”"—Aryan MytHo.oey, Heo). This rivalry of light and darkness falls in, as will be seen, not only with our entire theory and the title of the play, but will be found to have extraordinary corroboration in the sonnets. “ Leaving Samothrake, Kadmos with his wife Harmonia, in whom “‘some ancient interpreters were wont to see a personification of Mount “Hermon, journey on westward, through Thrake, and then southward, “through Thessalia and Phokis, until at length they found the famous “ city of Thebai-Kedem the East, is That-which-is-before ; hence Kado- “ nilos-Kadmiel, He-who stands-before EL’ ; Kadmos, the Eastern Kadmos ‘at Samothrake, therefore is regarded from a Phoenician point of view as “representing Thought.”—Tue Great Dionystak Myra, Vol. IL, pp. 235, 236, By Ros. Brown, Jun., F.S.A. We pause to again call attention to the identity of Hermione with Harmonia. “ The learned Bochart supposes that Hermione or Harmonia “was a native of Mount Hermon.”—Anatysis oF ANCIENT MyTHoLoGy, Vol. IT., 434-450. The classical dictionaries indifferently interchange the names of Her- mione and Harmonia, sometimes giving both, as in the case of Lempriere, which we give :— THE WINTER’S TALE. 19 “‘ HERMIONE, a daughter of Mars and Venus, who married Cadmus.” “ Harmontra, or Hermronna. [ Vid. Hermione], a daughter of Mars and Venus, who married Cadmus.” Mr. Brown writes :— “Harmonia, his bride, is a Phoenician personage with an Hellenik “name, which is therefore a translation of her foreign name. The “‘meaning of the translation must, then, be first obtained. From harma, “