The whole of the modern criticism of Shakespeare has been fundamentally
affected by one important fact. The chronological order of the plays,
for so long the object of the vaguest speculation, of random guesses, or
at best of isolated 'points,' has been now discovered and reduced to a
coherent law. It is no longer possible to suppose that _The Tempest_ was
written before _Romeo and 'Juliet_; that _Henry VI._ was produced in
succession to _Henry V._; or that _Antony and Cleopatra_ followed close
upon the heels of _Julius Caesar_. Such theories were sent to limbo for
ever, when a study of those plays of whose date we have external
evidence revealed the fact that, as Shakespeare's life advanced, a
corresponding development took place in the metrical structure of his
verse. The establishment of metrical tests, by which the approximate
position and date of any play can be readily ascertained, at once
followed; chaos gave way to order; and, for the first time, critics
became able to judge, not only of the individual works, but of the whole
succession of the works of Shakespeare.
Upon this firm foundation modern writers have been only too eager to
build. It was apparent that the Plays, arranged in chronological order,
showed something more than a mere development in the technique of
verse--a development, that is to say, in the general treatment of
characters and subjects, and in the sort of feelings which those
characters and subjects were intended to arouse; and from this it was
easy to draw conclusions as to the development of the mind of
Shakespeare itself. Such conclusions have, in fact, been constantly
drawn. But it must be noted that they all rest upon the tacit
assumption, that the character of any given drama is, in fact, a true
index to the state of mind of the dramatist composing it. The validity
of this assumption has never been proved; it has never been shown, for
instance, why we should suppose a writer of farces to be habitually
merry; or whether we are really justified in concluding, from the fact
that Shakespeare wrote nothing but tragedies for six years, that, during
that period, more than at any other, he was deeply absorbed in the awful
problems of human existence. It is not, however, the purpose of this
essay to consider the question of what are the relations between the
artist and his art; for it will assume the truth of the generally
accepted view, that the character of the one can be inferred from that
of the other. What it will attempt to discuss is whether, upon this
hypothesis, the most important part of the ordinary doctrine of
Shakespeare's mental development is justifiable.
What, then, is the ordinary doctrine? Dr. Furnivall states it as
follows:
Shakespeare's course is thus shown to have run from the amorousness
and fun of youth, through the strong patriotism of early manhood,
to the wrestlings with the dark problems that beset the man of
middle age, to the gloom which weighed on Shakespeare (as on so
many men) in later life, when, though outwardly successful, the
world seemed all against him, and his mind dwelt with sympathy on
scenes of faithlessness of friends, treachery of relations and
subjects, ingratitude of children, scorn of his kind; till at last,
in his Stratford home again, peace came to him, Miranda and Perdita
in their lovely freshness and charm greeted him, and he was laid by
his quiet Avon side.