father, with which it begins, is evidently set in opposition to the immovable steadfastness with which Marina, at the end of the drama, defends her innocence against threatening dangers, against seduction, and against violence. Not only is she victorious in the struggle, but she disseminates a purifying and ameliorating influence over men who are sunk deep in immorality and sensuality. This moralising tendency is insisted on in the play as strongly as in the old Moralities, and hence it is far removed from the manner in which Shakespeare hides skilfully, as under a veil, the moral teachings he intends to preach under cover of the action of his later works. It must, therefore, be concluded that Pericles was not an original play, but an older picce which Shakespeare worked over, introducing many changes and improvements. On careful examination, we can discover passages which reveal the master's hand. The figure of Marina, the daughter of Pericles, is of infinite loveliness, presented with much of the refinement to which we are accustomed in the female characters of Shakespeare's riper works. True she is only sketched, but in detached traits and in the whole conception we already note his profound knowledge and great skill in interpreting the female heart. It would be unjust to the poet to exclude this pure lovely creation from a work devoted to Shakespeare's female characters. Whatever our conviction as regards the authorship of the whole play of Pericles, the figure of Marina unmistakably bears the stamp of Shakespeare's genius. Pericles, returning to his own country with his wife Thaisa, the daughter of King Simonides of Pentapolis, is overtaken by a tempest. Thaisa, during the awful storm, amid fearful suffering, has given birth to a daughter, and now lies in a swoon, which all, including Pericles, take for death. The superstition of the crew, who believe that the ship, and therefore they themselves, are inevitably doomed to destruction if the supposed corpse remains on board, forces Pericles to commit his wife in a wooden casket to the deep. He does this most unwillingly, for the body, though apparently dead, still maintains life. The storm subsides, and Pericles with the child, whom he has named Marina, because she was born at sea, and an old woman, his wife's nurse, arrive safely at Tarsus, where his friend Cleon and Queen Dionyza are the rulers. After a while he hears news of troubles in his capital, Tyre, which force him to return thither in great haste, leaving Marina and her nurse Lychorida with his friends, whom he implores that they tend the child carefully, and give her an education suitable to her father's princely station. Both Cleon and Dionyza pledge themselves by a sacred promise faithfully to fulfil the part of parents to the little creature, according to Pericles' wishes. Pericles takes leave of them with heartfelt thanks. The prologue to the third act relates that Marina has grown up a lovely and fascinating girl, who wins all hearts, having been by Cleon's care carefully educated in all sciences and arts, especially in music. But cruel envy steals into the heart of Dionyza, and causes her to forget all womanly tenderness and pity. Her own daughter is cast into the shade by Marina, and Dionyza cannot bear to see how the stranger receives universal homage, and how her own daughter, Philotea, when she seeks to vie with Marina in any accomplishment, such as song or embroidery, is always vanquished; as "With the dove of Paphos might the crow Vie feathers white." All praise bestowed upon Marina is given in a grudging spirit. Dionyza resolves to destroy Marina, who has no protector, for her faithful nurse, Lychorida, is dead. She orders her servant Leonine to slay the "goodly creature," as the murderer himself calls her. Leonine consents, albeit unwillingly. Marina appears in all her sweetness, bewailing with profound grief the death of her faithful nurse, and of the mother lost to her so early: Ah me, poor maid! Born in a tempest, when my mother died. With hateful hypocrisy, Dionyza exhorts her not to lament so over her nurse's death, lest Pericles, on his return, which is soon expected, consider her troubled eyes and pale cheeks as a sign that they have not tended her properly. With well-feigned kindness she advises the poor child to take a walk on the sea-shore in the fresh air, and gives her the servant who has promised to put her to death as a companion. When this man tells her that he has been ordered by his mistress to kill her, she breaks into moving lamentations and protestations of innocence. She cannot understand why Dionyza seeks her life. says: I never did her hurt in all my life, I never spake bad word or did ill turn To any living creature: I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: I trod upon a worm against my will, but I wept for it. She appeals to Leonine's gentle heart: I saw you lately When you caught hurt in parting two that fought: She She calls upon him, with pretty flattery, to come between her and his lady, and "save the weaker." But Leonine is deaf to her entreaties, and would have carried out his deadly purpose, were he not hindered by an occurrence that indeed saves Marina's life, but reserves her for a fate compared to which sudden death were a blessing. Pirates land while she is struggling for dear life with Leonine, and carry her off. Pericles, on his arrival in Tarsus, is informed by Dionyza, who has been told by Leonine that he slew Marina, and by Cleon, who abhors the crime, but will not betray his wife, that Marina died a natural death, and is shown a monument erected to her memory. Overcome with grief, Pericles abandons himself to gloomy misanthropy, refuses to return to Tyre, but cruises restlessly about the world on his ship. In the meantime, the pirates have carried Marina to Mytilene and sold her to a house of illfame. In this shameful place, amid these horrible surroundings, the strength and golden purity of her character shine brilliantly. She resists all the seductions of the young noblemen who frequent the house, all the threats of the owners, who wish to make a profit out of her beauty. And besides this, she also makes an impression on the young men by her purity and virtuous speech, so absolutely in contradiction to the place in which they find her. She wins over Lysimachus, governor of Mytilene, to such a degree, that he declares later on that he would be proud to marry her if she could be proved to belong to a noble family. At last she even wins over a servant of the house, who assists her in escaping from this den of iniquity. She finds refuge in a respectable family, where she earns an ample and honourable subsistence by her singing, her dancing, and her Iskill in woman's work. Meanwhile, Pericles' ship has arrived at Mytilene. He remains on board, gloomy, sullen, apart from all human intercourse, speaking to none and receiving none. In vain Lysimachus the governor, who comes to salute him, strives to arouse him from his motionless, melancholy silence. It then happens that a gentleman of the suite reminds him of Marina, and proposes that she should try with the wonder-working sound of her voice to obtain some healing power over the king. Lysimachus eagerly consents, and Marina is sent for. At first her singing does not awake Pericles' attention, but, as if drawn towards him by some secret attraction, she stays by him and talks to him. The scene which follows, and the manner in which it leads to the mutual recognition of father and daughter, plainly reveals Shakespeare. ACT v. Scene 1. MARINA speaks : Marina. I am a maid, My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes, But have been gazed on like a comet : she speaks, Who stood equivalent with mighty kings: Per. I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me. You are like something that—What country-woman? Here of these shores? Mar. No, nor of any shores: Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am No other than I appear. Per. I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping. My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one My daughter might have been : my queen's square brows; Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight; As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like And cased as richly; in pace another Juno; Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry, Per. Where were you bred? And how achieved you these endowments, which You make more rich to owe? Mar. If I should tell my history, it would seem Like lies disdain'd in the reporting. Per. Prithee, speak: Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will believe thee, To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st |
