Malone, Coleridge, White, and Sir Sidney Lee are among those who feel confident that this passage contains an autobiographical reference, "an appeal to the lessons of his personal experience." Furness opposes this view, and then insists on debating in these words the general question involved: Not only do I not believe that Shakespeare was here referring to his own experience, but I do not believe that Orsino's assertion itself is true. The record of marriages where the woman is the elder will prove, I think, that, as a rule, such unions, founded as they are, not on the fleeting attractions of youth, which is "a stuff will not endure," but on the abiding elements of intellectual congeniality, have been unusually happy. Though Shakespeare's own experience may well have contributed to the specific quality and the marked intensity of these lines, there is no need of going beyond the situation itself for a justification of all that is said. In the opening scene of "A Midsummer-Night's Dream" Lysander declares that "the course of true love never did run smooth," and gives as one reason for this that love is sometimes "misgraffed in respect of years." These words necessarily bring to mind the marked disparity between the ages of Anne Hathaway and her boy-husband. Professor John M. Manly points out that "tradition and the known facts of Shakespeare's marriage attest a wild youth, such as the old shepherd describes in "The Winter's Tale": 'I would there were no age between ten [emended to sixteen in Globe ed., to nineteen by Manly] and threeand-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with 1 Variorum edition of Twelfth Night, p. 140. child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting-[Horns.] Hark you now! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather?' [III, iil, 59-65.] As the passage is totally unwarranted by dramatic purpose, it is strongly suggestive of personal reminiscence." 1 It is strange that no commentator cited by Furness pays any attention to the possibility that a passage in "The Tempest" may contain a reference to Shakespeare's own marriage. Near the beginning of Act IV, Prospero gives Miranda to Ferdinand with these words: Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow; but barren Hate, For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, As I hope With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd IV, i, 13-31. Were these words called out by Shakespeare's bitter memory of the immorality which preceded and forced on his own marriage? It seems probable that they were. I "Shakespeare Himself," 25. In A Memorial Volume to Shakespeare and Harvey, The Univ. of Texas, 1916. have always felt them to be distinctly inappropriate here. The whole tone of this portion of the play has been idyllic and charming. The love that we have seen spring up between Ferdinand and Miranda has been as pure as it has been frank and natural. Suddenly this intense and bitter admonition breaks the charm. Prospero, who has been universally recognized as at times a mouthpiece of Shakespeare, voices a warning which thrills with a poignance and intensity that are dramatically uncalled for. I feel that Prospero, under the influence of the familiar situation, suddenly becomes Shakespeare, recalling his own wrong-doing and its evil consequences. The hands are the hands of Esau, but the voice is the voice of Jacob.1 Joseph Quincy Adams has shown in A Life of William Shakespeare, Houghton, 1923, pp. 65-78, that the circumstances of the marriage have often been interpreted with uncalled for harshness, and that Shakespeare's own age looked upon his offence somewhat leniently. sensitive. Shakespeare seems to have been exceptionally THE CHOOSING OF THE CASKETS 1 THE skill with which Shakespeare has woven together the two main stories of "The Merchant of Venice," that of the bond and that of the caskets, strikes even the casual reader. Although the bond story has the more intense interest, and the choice of the caskets seems at first sight little more than a fairy tale, yet the latter story speedily discloses striking dramatic qualities. The three successive scenes of choosing are easily made spectacular in presentation. In each there is a prolonged and fateful suspense. The choice of the leaden casket by Bassanio is a telling climax to the series. Professor R. G. Moulton says: The point of the Caskets Story to the eye of an artist in Drama is the opportunity it affords for an idealisation of the commonest problem in everyday experiencewhat may be called the Problem of Judgment by Appear ances. We have clearly [in the choice of the Caskets] the Problem of Judgment by Appearances drawn out in its ideal form; and our sympathies are attracted by the sight of a process, belonging to our everyday experience, yet developed before us in all the force artistic setting can bestow." But it is not only the external appearance of the caskets 1 Reprinted from Modern Language Notes, xxxiii (1918), 466-68. 'Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, 3d ed., Oxford, 1893, pp. 52, 54. to which attention is called. Each bears also a challenging inscription. The one of gold declares: Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire. The casket of silver tells us: Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. The leaden casket carries the threat: Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath. The Prince of Morocco dwells upon the motto on the golden casket, and considers Portia to be "what many men desire" (II, vii). Like Sir Willoughby in "The Egoist," Morocco is eager to carry off the prize for which many are contending. He also considers gold the appropriate metal to contain Portia's picture: Never so rich a gem Was set in worse than gold. It is only this second thought that is a judgment by appearances. The choice of the Prince of Arragon (II, ix.) cannot be called a judgment by appearances at all. Silver is an unobtrusive middle term between much-promising gold and meagre, unpromising lead. Arragon is entirely concerned with the different inscriptions. His self-satisfied spirit is attracted by the sentiment upon the silver casket: Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. His decision is: I will assume desert. Give me a key for this. When Bassanio faces the choice (III, ii.), his first reflections are wholly concerned with the danger of judging according to appearances. Is he not led into this line of thought by the song which Portia orders to be sung, |