theater. Murders were in special request in all kinds of serious dramas. Wilson, one of Lord Leicester's servants, was thought in 1581 to be just the person to write a play then urgently desired, which was not only to "be original and amusing," but was also to include "plenty of mystery," and "be full of all sorts of murders, immorality, and robberies." Nor was the taste for the predominance of the worst kind of sensational incidents restricted to the public stage, as any one may see who will care to peruse the Misfortunes of Arthur, produced with great flourish by the students of Gray's Inn in 1588. This deplorable fancy was nearly in its zenith at the time of the appearance of Titus Andronicus. In the same year, 1594, there was published the Tragicall Raigne of Selimus, Emperour of the Turkes, a composition offering similar attractions, but the writer was so afraid of his massacres being considered too insipid, he thus reveals his misgivings to the audience,— "If this First Part, gentles, do like you well, The character of the theatrical speculations of Henslowe was obviously influenced, in common with that of nearly all managers, by the current tastes of the public, and, in an age like the one now spoken of, is it wonderful that he should have considered the story of Titus Andronicus a fit theme for the dramatist? Is it also marvelous that Shakespeare, a young author then struggling into position, should not have felt it his duty, on æsthetic grounds, to reject an offer the acceptance of which invited no hostile criticism, while it opened out a prospect of material advantages? Henslowe's judgment, regulated by thoughts of the money-box, not by those of attempted reforms of the drama, were no doubt in his own opinion amply justified by the result. A certain deference to the expectations of a popular audience is, indeed, nearly always essential to the continuous support of a theater, and it is not unlikely that the very incidents now so offensive were those which mainly contributed to the success of the trag edy. As for the poet's share in the transaction, we are too apt to consider it indefensible under any measure of temptation, without reflecting to what extent a familiarity with representative horrors might produce an unconscious indifference to their ghastliness even in the tenderest of natures. Such horrors belong to the taste of the age, not to that of the individual. We must try to reconcile ourselves, as best we may, to the obvious fact that Shakespeare did not always consider it necessary to deviate from the course of his foundation-tales for the sake of avoiding the barbarities of the ancient stage. Had it been otherwise, the story of Titus Andronicus might have been purified, and we also mercifully spared from a contemplation of the appalling eye-scene in the tragedy of Lear. No discussion on either of the last-named plays, or on many of the others, can be satisfactorily conducted so long as the influences of the older drama, and the theatric usages of the time, are not ever carefully borne in mind. It is a fallacy to admit, with many, the necessity of true criticism being grounded upon a reverential belief that the whole of Shakespeare's plays, in the forms in which they have descended to us, are examples of the unvarying perfection of the writer's judgment and dramatic art. That he was endowed with an exquisite judgment there is ample evidence, but that it was not always utilized is equally indisputable. It is obvious that, in several in stances, when vivifying some of the most popular old English dramas, he was contented to transfer irrational plots and defective constructions that had been firmly established in public favor. The latter were sometimes adopted without an effort to bring them into harmony with the conduct of the action; and there appears to have been generally a disinclination on his part to originate either plots or incidents. So numerous were the popular and other tales that were suited for contemporary dramatic purposes, there was, as a rule, no theatrical necessity for his inventing either; while the creation of a new story, never an easy and generally a hazardous task for a dramatist, might have been more trouble to him than the composition of a play. Shakespeare was leading a busy life, and there are no indications that he would have delayed the completion of any one of his works for the sake of art. It should be remembered that his dramas were not written for posterity, but as a matter of business, never for his own speculation but always for that of the managers of the theater, the choice of subject being occasionally dictated by them or by patrons of the stage; his task having been to construct out of certain given or elected materials successful dramas for the audiences of the day. It is not pretended that he did not invariably take an earnest interest in his work, his intense sympathy with each character forbidding such an assumption; but simply that his other tastes were subordinated when necessary to his duty to his employers. If the managers considered that the popular feeling was likely to encourage, or if an influential patron or the Court desired, the production of a drama on some special theme, it was composed to order on that subject, no matter how repulsive the character of the plot or how intrinsically it was unfitted for dramatic purposes. Working thus under the domination of a commercial spirit, it is impossible to say to what extent his work was affected by unfavorable influences; such, for example, as the necessity of finishing a drama with undue haste, the whole, as it may have been, especially in his early days, written under disturbing circumstances in the room of a noisy tavern or in an inconvenient lodging that served him for "parlor, kitchen, and hall.” And, again, besides the incongruities derived from the older plays or novels, his control over his art was occasionally liable to be governed by the customs and exigencies of the ancient stage, so much so that, in a few instances, the action of a scene was diverted for the express purpose of complying with those necessities. From some of these causes may have arisen simultaneous inequalities in taste and art which otherwise appear to be inexplicable, and which would doubtlessly have been removed had Shakespeare lived to have given the public a revised edition of his works during his retirement at Stratford-on-Avon, and had also wished to display that uniformity of excellence which he alone, of all prolific writers, might have achieved. The Burbages, however, had no conception of his intellectual supremacy, and, if they had, it is certain that they would not have deviated on that account from the course they were in the habit of pursuing. In their estimation, however, he was merely, to use their own words, a "deserving man," an effective actor and a popular writer, one who would not have been considered so valuable a member of their staff had he not also worked as a practical man of business, knowing that the success of the theater was identi fied with his own, and that, within certain limits, it was necessary that his art should be regulated by expediency. There is, indeed, no evidence that Shakespeare wrote, at any period of his life, without a constant reference to the immediate effect of his dramas upon the theatrical public of his own day; and it may reasonably be suspected that there is not one of them which is the result of an express or cherished literary design. He was sometimes, moreover, in such a hurry of composition that a reference to the original foundation-story is necessary for the complete elucidation of his meaning, another circumstance which is incompatible with a resolute desire for the construction of perfect artistic work. This is one of the several indications which lead to the high probability that his theatrical success was neither the result of a devotion to art, nor of a solicitude for the eulogy of readers, but of his unrivaled power of characterization, of his intimate knowledge of stage business, and of a fidelity to mental nature that touched the hearts of all. These qualities, although less prominently developed in Titus Andronicus than in many other of his plays, are yet to be observed in that inferior work. Even amid its display of barbarous and abandoned personages, neither sternness nor profligacy is permitted to altogether extinguish the natural emotions, while, at the same time, the unities of character are well sustained. It is by tests such as these, not by counting its syllables or analyzing its peculiarities of style, that the authenticity of Shakespeare's earliest tragedy should be determined. Although it is dangerous nowadays to enter upon the history of Shakespeare's art with the language of commonsense, the risk must be encountered if we are not contented to lose interesting examples of the poet's youthful genius. If, indeed, all is to be discarded that offends the extra |