barrassed and would not readily enter into any complicate business where cleverness and practical intelligence were required. For in spite of her brilliant, inexhaustible wit, she nevertheless does not possess a spark of that knowledge of the world which is able to grapple with the affairs of common life. Her wit and her judgment are rooted wholly in the poetical soil of a rich imagination, and in a delicate, pure state of .feeling out of which her whole being has, so to say, sprung forth. When severed from this soil, her nature becomes withered and stunted like a tender flower that has been taken from its native earth and transplanted into a foreign land. At her uncle's court, Rosalinde appears inclined to be melancholy; for her nature, in spite of the fulness of the natural truth of her womanly heart, is, in regard to mind, so ethereal, so romantically poetic, so genially eccentric that the rude breath of prosaic reality could not but destroy its loveliest blossoms. On this very account it would be useless to endeavour, in a detailed delineation, to point out the several delicate outlines with which Shakspeare's masterly skill and genial hand has sketched the charming picture. I fear that even the few gentle allusions I have already given may have rather damaged than benefited the picture which the reader's own imagination had formed.

The same may be said of the other characters; their fundamental traits the noble frankness and candour, and the imperishable force of a good disposition as exhibited in Orlando-the pure feeling for humanity, the greatness of mind and goodness of heart, in the amiable, jovial old Duke, whom misfortune has made but the nobler, the happier, and the more cheerful-the simple, touching fidelity of Adam- the self-sacrificing, heartfelt friendship of Celia-in short, all, in spite of their strangeness, thoughtlessness, and perversity, reflect so much of what is beautiful in humanity, and are so clearly brought forward, that a closer analysis would only destroy the delicate, poetical fragrance with which the whole is imbued. It must, however, be obvious to every reader that the characters are all conceived and worked out entirely in keeping with the meaning of as you like it, which, indeed, is the fundamental theme of the whole. The fantastic

capriciousness which shows itself either as the inner motive or the outward impulse to their resolves and actions, rules the best and noblest, as well as the worst and lowest characters in the most manifold modifications. This is clearly evident from the course of the action. The arbitrary, unlawful dethronement of the good Duke forms the basis of the plot, the unreasonable persecution of Orlando by his brother-which is founded on a completely indefinite and undefinable cause of hate-his whim to fight the king's wrestler, likewise, the equally unreasonable banishment of Rosalinde-whom her uncle had long tolerated at his court, and suddenly drives into exile without any causeare the first and chief motives of its advance. In the Forest of Arden all then abandon themselves to the most unrestrained and most diversified play of caprice and fancy. The play proceeds in this way till the wicked brother and the unlawful Duke are brought to see their transgressions and are converted, and Rosalinde throws aside her disguise. Thus even the mainsprings of the action are in perfect. accordance with the meaning and spirit of the play. All the various parts form one perfect harmony, round which play the most graceful melodies; all is so delicate and ingenious, so free, so fresh and gay, so full of bantering humour and genial exuberance of spirits, that everyone who possesses the sense and understanding for the poetical chord here struck, must acknowledge this comedy as deserving the first prize; those who do not possess these requisites for its appreciation will pass it by with indifference or wholly misunderstand it.

Most critics assign the play to the year 1600. That it did not appear till after 1598 is certain, not only from the fact that Meres does not mention it in the often-quoted passage in his Palladis Tamia, but also from a line occurring in the play itself (act iii. s. 5.) taken from Marlowe's 'Hero and Leander,' which did not appear in print till 1598. Edm. Capell's supposition that As You Like It' belongs to the year 1605, is an arbitrary one, and is proved untenable by the fact that the play is entered at Stationers' Hall as early as August 4th, 1600.* The edition which he

* In the case of this entry which includes two others of Shakspeare's pieces, Henry V. and Much Ado About Nothing, the year is indeed not

supposes to have existed, may have actually appeared, but it has been wholly lost. Probably, however, obstacles were placed in the way of its being printed-perhaps by Shakspeare's own theatrical company, which would testify to the unusually great popularity of the piece. It presumably did not appear in print till in the folio of 1623.

2. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.

We must to a certain extent regard 'The Comedy of Errors,' as the pendant to' As You Like It.' It is evidently one of Shakspeare's youthful works and was probably written about 1591.* This is supported not only by several circumstances, such as the frequent occurrence of rhymes and the long-drawn Alexandrines (doggerel verse), employed by the earlier English dramatists, but also by the greater carefulness and regularity of the language and versification, which is a clear indication of a poet who is still striving to win the approbation of the public by all the external means at his command-means to which Shakspeare subsequently paid less attention. Another proof of its early origin is the fresh, youthful atmosphere of joke and jest which pervades the whole, a naïve pleasure in what is jocose and laughable for its own sake, and which, not being yet burdened by the weight of years, moves more lightly and more on the surface of things, and without that power and depth of humour which distin

specified, but obviously only because the writer wished to spare himself the trouble of repeating the date which was given at the head of the preceding entry.

* Compare Chalmers' Supplementary Apology, p. 274 ff., whose sound arguments against Malone and others are now approved of by the majority of the most eminent critics. If we do not assume that Shakspeare had read Plautus in the original, the piece cannot (as has been supposed) be a free imitation of the Menæchmi of Plautus, for the latter did not appear in an English translation till 1595 (it has been reprinted among the Six Old Plays, etc., vol. i.) Probably, however, Shakspeare did not draw his subject-matter direct from Plautus, but followed an earlier play which is lost: The History of Error, a court comedy which was given on New Year's Night at Hampton Court, and repeated on Twelfth Night, 1583, at Windsor.-Collier's History of English Dramatic Poetry, iii. 62.

guishes the poet's maturer works. The action is represented more from the side of its outward form and direct appearance, but, so to say, only in coloured outlines-light and shade are indicated only by gentle touches-the figures therefore do not stand out with sufficient fulness and clearness, there is still a want of sharpness in the characterisation, of clearness in the grouping, of distinctness in the coherency and in the harmonious connection of the several parts among one another. The frequent occurrence of scenes of quarrel and dispute, occasioned by the perpetual errors and mistakes, reminds one of the original and popular form which comedy assumed, and in which it first met with approbation. Even the striking psychological improbability that the one of the two Menæchmi-Antipholus of Syracuse- should go forth with the express purpose of seeking his lost brother, and that, in spite of all the obvious mistakes of his identity with another exactly like himself, it should never occur to him that he is in the very place where his twin-brother had been cast-might be cited as a proof of the early origin of the piece, were it not so gross, so self-evident that it could not possibly have escaped the notice of young Shakspeare. This improbability is accordingly made a characteristic feature of the piece, and points to a definite intention on the part of the poet. Why, we have to ask, why did Shakspeare intentionally ignore this improbability? Why did he not give the journey of Antipholus to Ephesus some other motive? Perhaps because he did not consider it necessary in mere comedy-where all is intended for pure fun and laughter-to take any heed of things which would only strike and offend mere reflecting reason, and not at all affect the poetical conception; perhaps, however, for another and deeper

reason.

If we regard the whole as a whole, as the poetical picture of human doings and actions, the comedy appears to be an amusing satire on man's power of observation and recognition. The accidental resemblance of two pairs of twins, suffices to put almost a whole town into confusion. Life, itself, is conceived, so to say, as a great and manyjointed mistake, encountered by ignorance and blunders in

all possible forms. Hence at the very outset we find the life of the father of the two twin brothers in danger, owing to an ignorance of the Ephesian law-a secondary motive of the action which might otherwise appear a mere superfluous appendage. Hence Adriana's unreasonable jealousy of her husband, which again is but a mistake and gives rise to further mistakes. Hence the perpetually increasing complication, which in time deprives all the dramatic characters of their proper consciousness, and which accordingly is not solved till the two pairs of twins stand face to face, although the possibility of two such pairs of twins being confounded is sufficiently obvious. Under the cloak of the comic we have striking evidence of the, in reality, very serious experience in life, that human knowledge and ignorance dovetail into one another and are mixed up together; that it is very easy for that which we suppose ourselves to know most surely and most distinctly, to turn out erroneous and delusive. The wife mistakes her husband, the master his servant, and the servant his master, the sister-in-law her brother-in-law, the friend his friend, and finally even the father his son. In this way the simplest, most natural and most important fundamental relations of life become a chaotic complication and dispute. We are shown how quickly everything becomes confused and perverted, as soon as one of the laws of life—a perfectly external and apparently unimportant law-is broken by a freak of nature, as soon as but the difference of the outward form-by means of which the perception of the senses distinguishes one individual from another-is destroyed. The psychological improbability, spoken of above, is introduced into this general confusion and complication like an integral part of the whole. I mean to say that the fact of Antipholus of Syracuse being bewildered by the strange things that befall him-his forgetting his own intention, his losing sight of the aim and object of his journey and overlooking just that with which he himself stands in obvious relation-agrees perfectly with the meaning of the play, as well as with the bold and strongly-marked outlines in which the young poet has sketched his picture.

It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that I do