INTRODUCTIONIn the Stationer’s Register the following entry is recorded under the date of “30º Martij 1632:”CONSTABLE Entred for his copy vnder the hands of Sir HENRY HERBERT and masterSMITHWICKEwarden a Tragedy calledthe ffatall Dowry. Vj d.In the year 1632 was published a quarto volume whose title-page was inscribed:The Fatall Dowry: a Tragedy: As it hath been often Acted at the Private House in Blackfriars, by his Majesties Servants. Written by P. M. and N. F. London, Printed by John Norton, for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop at the Crane, in Pauls Churchyard. 1632.That the initials by which the authors are designated stand for Philip Massinger and Nathaniel Field is undoubted.Later TextsThere is no other seventeenth century edition ofThe Fatal Dowry. It was included in various subsequent collections, as follows:I.The Works of Philip Massinger—edited by Thomas Coxeter, 1759—re-issued in 1761, with an introduction by T. Davies.II.The Dramatic Works of Philip Massinger—edited by John Monck Mason, 1779.III.The Plays of Philip Massinger—edited by William Gifford, 1805. There was a revised second edition in 1813, which is still regarded as the Standard Massinger Text, and was followed in subsequent editions of Gifford.IV.Modern British Drama—edited by Sir Walter Scott, 1811. The text of this reprint ofThe Fatal Dowryis Gifford’s.V.Dramatic Works of Massinger and Ford—edited by Hartley Coleridge, 1840 (et seq.). This follows the text of Gifford.VI.The Plays of Philip Massinger.From the Text of William Gifford. With the Addition of the Tragedy Believe as You List. Edited by Francis Cunningham, 1867 (et seq.).The Fatal Dowry in this edition, as in the preceding, is a mere reprint of the Second Edition of Gifford.VII.Philip Massinger.Selected Plays. (Mermaid Series.) Edited by Arthur Symons, 1887–9 (et seq.).In addition to the above,The Fatal Dowryappeared inThe Plays of Philip Massinger, adapted for family reading and the use of young persons, by the omission of objectionable passages,—edited by Harness, 1830–1; and another expurgated version was printed in theMirror of Taste and Dramatic Censor, 1810. Both of these are based on the text of Gifford.The edition of Coxeter is closest of all to the Quarto, following even many of its most palpable mistakes, and adding some blunders on its own account. Mason accepts practically all of Coxeter’s corrections, and supplies a great many more variants himself, not all of which are very happy. Both these eighteenth century editors continually contract for the sake of securing a perfectly regular metre (e. g.:You’reforYou are,I, i, 139;th’ honoursforthe honours,I, ii, 35; etc.), while Gifford’s tendency is to give the full form for even the contractions of the Quarto, changing its’em’stothem’s, etc. Gifford can scarce find words sharp enough to express his scorn for his predecessors in their lack of observance of the text of the Quarto, yet he himself frequently repeats their gratuitous emendations when the original was a perfectly sure guide, and he has almost a mania for tampering with the Quarto on his own account. Symons’Mermaidtext, while based essentially on that of Gifford, in a number of instances departs from it, sometimes to make further emendations, but more often to go back from those of Gifford to the version of the original, so that on the whole this is the best text yet published.There has been a German translation by the Graf von Baudisson, under the title ofDie Unselige Mitgift, in hisBen Jonson und seine Schule, Leipsig, 1836; and a French translation, in prose, under the title ofLa dot fataleby E. Lafond inContemporains de Shakespeare, Paris, 1864.DateThe date of the composition or original production ofThe Fatal Dowryis not known. The Quarto speaks of it as havingbeen “often acted,” so there is nothing to prevent our supposing that it came into existence many years before its publication. It does not seem to have been entered in Sir Henry Herbert’s Office Book.1This would indicate its appearance to have been prior to Herbert’s assumption of the duties of his office in August, 1623. In seeking a more precise date we can deal only in probabilities.2The play having been produced by the King’s Men, a company in which Field acted, it was most probably written during his association therewith. This was formed in 1616; the precise date of his retirement from the stage is not known. His name appears in the patent of March 27, 1619, just after the death of Burbage, and again and for the last time in a livery list for his Majesty’s Servants, dated May 19, 1619. It is absent from the next grant for livery (1621) and from the actors’ lists for various plays which are assigned to 1619 or 1620. We may therefore assume safely that his connection with the stage ended before the close of 1619. On the basis of probability, then, the field is narrowed to 1616–19.3More or less presumptive evidence may be adduced for a yet more specific dating. During these years that Field acted with the King’s Men, two plays appeared which bear strong internal evidence of being products of his collaboration with Massinger and Fletcher:The Knight of MaltaandThe Queen of Corinth. While several parallels of phraseology are afforded forThe Fatal Dowryby these (as, indeed, by every one of the works of Massinger) they are not nearly so numerous or so striking as similarities discoverable between it and certain other dramas of the Massingercorpus. With none does the connection seem so intimate as withThe Unnatural Combat. Both plays open with a scene in which a young suppliant for a father’s cause is counseled, in passages irresistibly reminiscent of each other, to lay aside pride and modesty for the parent’s sake, because not otherwise can justice be gained, and it is the custom of the age to sue for it shamelessly. Moreover, the offer by Beaufort and his associatesto Malefort of any boon he may desire as a recompense for his service, and his acceptance of it, correspond strikingly in both conduct and language with the conferring of a like favor upon Rochfort by the Court (I, ii, 258ff.); while the request which Malefort prefers, that his daughter be married to Beaufort Junior, and the language with which that young man acknowledges this meets his own dearest wish, bear a no less patent resemblance to the bestowal of Beaumelle upon Charalois (II, ii, 284–297). Now this last parallel is significant, becauseThe Unnatural Combatis an unaided production of Massinger, while the analogue inThe Fatal Dowryoccurs in a scene that is by the hand of Field. The similarity may, of course, be only an accident, but presumably it is not. Then did Field borrow from Massinger, or did Massinger from Field? The most plausible theory is thatThe Unnatural Combatwas written immediately afterThe Fatal Dowry, when Massinger’s mind was so saturated with the contents of the tragedy just laid aside that he was liable to echo in the new drama the expressions and import of lines in the old, whether by himself or his collaborator. That at any rate the chronological relationship of the two plays is one of juxtaposition is further attested by the fact that in minor parallelisms,4too, toThe Fatal Dowry,The Unnatural Combatis richer than any other work of Massinger.UnfortunatelyThe Unnatural Combatis itself another play of whose date no more can be said with assurance than that it preceeds the entry of Sir Henry Herbert into office in 1623, though its crude horrors, its ghost, etc., suggest moreover that it is its author’s initial independent venture in the field of tragedy, hisTitus Andronicus, an ill-advised attempt to produce something after the “grand manner” of half a generation back. Next in closeness toThe Fatal Dowryamong the works of Massinger as regards the number of its reminiscences of phraseology stands his share ofThe Virgin Martyr; next in closeness as regards thestrikingnessof these parallels stands his share ofThe Little French Lawyer. These two plays can be datedcirca1620.To sum up:The Fatal Dowryappears to antedate the installation of Sir Henry Herbert in 1623.It was probably written while Field was with the King’s Men; with whom he became associated in 1616, and whom he probably quitted in 1619.The indications point to its composition during the latter part of this three-year period (1616–19), for it yields more and closer parallels toThe Virgin MartyrandThe Little French Lawyer, dated about 1620, than toThe Knight of MaltaandThe Queen of Corinth, dated 1617–8,—closer, indeed, than to any work of Massinger save one,The Unnatural Combat, itself an undated but evidently early play, with which its relationship is clearly of the most intimate variety.The following (at best hazardously conjectural) scheme of sequence may be advanced:Fletcher and Massinger and Field together wroteThe Knight of MaltaandThe Queen of Corinth—according to received theory, in 1617 or 1618. Thereafter, the last two collaborators (desirous, perhaps, of trying what they could do unaided and unshackled by the dominating association of the chief dramatist of the day) joined hands in the production of the tragedy which is the subject of our study. Then, upon Field’s retirement, Massinger struck off, withThe Unnatural Combat, into unassisted composition; but we next find him, whether because he recognized the short-comings of this turgid play or for other reasons, again in double harness, at work uponThe Virgin MartyrandThe Little French Lawyer. On this hypothesis,The Fatal Dowrywould be dated 1618–9.SourcesNo source is known for the main plot ofThe Fatal Dowry. A Spanish original has been suspected, but it has never come to light. The stress laid throughout the action on that peculiarly Spanish conception of “the point of honor” (see underCritical Estimate,in consideration of the character of Charalois) is unquestionably suggestive of the land south of the Pyrenees, and we have an echo ofDon Quixotein the exclamation of Charalois (III, i, 441): “Away, thou curious impertinent.” The identification, however, of the situation at Aymer’s house inIV, iiwith a scene in Cervantes’El viejo celoso(Obras Completas De Cervantes, Tomo XII, p. 277) is extremely fanciful. The only similarity consists in the circumstance that in both, while the husband is on the stage, the wife, who, unknown to him, entertains a lover in the next room, is heard speaking within. But this is a spontaneous outcry on the part of Beaumelle, who does not suspect the proximity of her husband, and her discovery follows, and from this the denouement of the play; whereas in Cervantes’entremesthe wife deliberately calls in bravado to her niece, who is also on-stage, and boasts of her lover,—and the husband thinks this is in jest, and nothing comes of it but comedy.The theme of the son’s redemption of his father’s corpse by his own captivity is from the classical story of Cimon and Miltiades, as narrated by Valerius Maximus, De dictis factisque memorabilibus, etc. Lib. V, cap. III. De ingratis externorum:Bene egissent Athenienses cum Miltiade, si eum post trecenta millia Persarum Marathone devicta, in exilium protinus misissent, ac non in carcere et vinculis mori coegissent; sed, ut puto, hactenus saevire adversus optime meritum abunde duxerunt: immo ne corpus quidem eius, sic expirare coacti sepulturae primus mandari passi sunt, quam filius eius Cimon eisdem vinculis se constrigendum traderet. Hanc hereditatem paternam maximi ducis filius, et futurus ipse aetatis suae dux maximus, solam se crevisse, catenas et carcerem, gloriari potuit.In the version of Cornelius Nepos (Vitae, Cimon I) Cimon is incarcerated against his will.The action of the play is given the historical setting of the later fifteenth century wars of Louis XI of France and Charles the Bold of Burgundy, although this background is extremely hazy. The hero’s name is the title which Charles bore while heir-apparent to the Duchy of Burgundy; mention is made of Charles himself (“The warlike Charloyes,”I, ii, 171), to Louis (“the subtill Fox of France, The politique Lewis,”I, ii, 123–4), and to “the more desperate Swisse” (I, ii, 124), against whom Charleslost his life and the power of Burgundy was broken; while the three great defeats he suffered at their hands, Granson, Morat, Nancy, are named inI, ii, 170. Shortly after these disasters the events which the play sets forth must be supposed to occur; the parliament by which in our drama Dijon is governed was established by Louis XI when he annexed Burgundy in 1477 and thereby abolished her ducal independence.CollaborationIt is doubtful if Massinger ever collaborated with any author whose manner harmonized as well with his own as did Field’s. In his partnership with Decker inThe Virgin Martyr, the alternate hands of the two dramatists afford a weird contrast.5His union with Fletcher was less incongruous, but Fletcher was too much inclined to take the bit between his teeth to be a comfortable companion in double harness,6and at all times his volatile, prodigal genius paired ill with the earnest, painstaking, not over-poetic moralist. But in Field Massinger found an associate whose connection with himself was not only congenial, but even beneficial, to the end that together they could achieve certain results of which either was individually incapable; just as it has been established was the case in the Middleton-Rowley collaboration. To a formal element of verse different, indeed, from Massinger’s, but not obtrusively so, a certain moral fibre of his own (perhaps derived from his clerical antecedents), and a like familiarity with stage technique, Field added qualities which Massinger notably lacked, and thereby complemented him: a light and vigorous (if sometimes coarse) comic touch as opposed to Massinger’s cumbrous humor; a freshness and first-hand acquaintance with life as opposed to Massinger’s bookishness; a capacityto visualize and individualize character as opposed to Massinger’s weakness for drawing types rather than people. The fruit of their joint endeavors testifies to a harmonious, conscientious, and mutually respecting partnership.In consideration of the above, it is surprising how substantially in accord are most of the opinions that have been expressed concerning the share of the play written by each author.“A critical reader,” says Monck Mason, “will perceive that Rochfort and Charalois speak a different language in the Second and Third Acts, from that which they speak in the first and last, which are undoubtedly Massinger’s; as is also Part of the Fourth Act, but not the whole of it.”Dr. Ireland, in a postscript to the text ofThe Fatal Dowryin Gifford’s edition, agrees with Mason in assigning the Second Act to Field and also the First Scene of the Fourth Act; the Third Act, however, he claims for Massinger, as well as that share of the play with which Mason credits him. Fleay and Boyle, the chief modern commentators who have taken up the question of the division of authorship with the aid of metrical tests and other criteria, agree fairly well with the speculations of their less scientific predecessors, and adopt an intermediate, reconciling position on the disputed Third Act, dividing it between the two dramatists.7Boyle (Englische Studien, V, 94) assigns to MassingerAct I;Act IIIas far as line 316;Act IV, Scenes ii,iii, andiv; and the whole ofAct V, with the exception ofScene ii, lines 80–120, which he considers an interpolation of Field, whom he also believes to have revised the latter part ofI, ii(fromExeunt Officers with Romontto end).Fleay (Chron. Eng. Dra., I, 208) exactly agrees with this division save that the latter part ofI, ii, which Boyle believes emended by Field, he assigns to that author outright; and that he places the division in Act III twenty-seven lines later (Field afterManent Char. Rom.).In my own investigation I have used for each Scene the following tests to distinguish the hands of the two authors:(a) Broad aesthetic considerations: the comparison of style and method of treatment with the known work of either dramatist.(b) The test of parallel phrases. Massinger’s habit of repeating himself is notorious. I have gone through the entire body of his work, both that which appears under his name, and that which has been assigned to him by modern research in the Beaumont & Fletcher plays, and noted all expressions I found analogous to any which occur inThe Fatal Dowry. I have done the same for Field’s work, examining his two comedies,Woman is a WeathercockandAmends for Ladies, and Acts I and V ofThe Knight of Maltaand III and IV ofThe Queen of Corinth, which the consensus of critical opinion recognizes (in my judgment, correctly) as his. He is generally believed to have collaborated also inThe Honest Man’s Fortune, but the exact extent of his work therein is so uncertain that I have not deemed it a proper field from which to adduce evidence. His hand has been asserted by one authority or another to appear in various other plays of the period, he having served, as it were, the role of a literary scapegoat on whom it was convenient to father any Scene not identified as belonging to Beaumont, Fletcher, or Massinger; but there is no convincing evidence for his participation in the composition of any extant dramas save the above named.(c) Metrical tests. I have computed the figures forThe Fatal Dowryin regard to double or feminine endings and run-on lines. Massinger’s verse displays high percentages (normally 30 per cent, to 45 per cent.) in the case of either. Field’s verse varies considerably in the matter of run-on lines at various periods of his life, but the proportion of them is always smaller than Massinger’s. His double endings average about 18 per cent. I have also counted in each Scene the number of speeches that end within the line, and that end with the line, respectively. (Speeches ending with fragmentary lines are considered to have mid-line endings.) This is declared by Oliphant (Eng. Studien, XIV, 72) the surest test for the work of Massinger. “His percentage of speeches,” he says, “that end where the verses end is ordinarily as low as 15.” This is a tremendous exaggeration, but it is truethat the ratio of mid-line endings is much higher in Massinger than in any of his contemporaries—commonly 2:1, or higher.We find theFirst Scene of Act Ione of those skillful introductions to the action which the “stage-poet” knew so well how to handle, for which reason, probably, he was generally intrusted with the initial Scene of the plays in which he collaborated. Thoroughly Massingerian are its satire upon the degenerate age and its grave, measured style, rhetorical where it strives to be passionate, and replete with characteristic expressions. Especially striking examples of the dramatist’s well-known and never-failingpenchantfor the recurrent use of certain ideas and phrases are:As I could run the hazard of a check for’t.(l. 10)—cf.8C-G. 87 b, 156 b, 327 b; D. V, 328; XI, 28;—You shall o’ercome.(l. 101)—cf. C-G. 230 b, 248 b, 392 a;—andll. 183–7—cf. C-G. 206 a, 63 a, 91 a, 134 b. The correspondence betweenll. 81–99and the opening ofThe Unnatural Combathas already been remarked on, while further reminiscences of the same passage are to be found elsewhere in Massinger (C-G. 104 a, 195 b). Metrical tests show for the Scene 33 per cent. double endings and 29 per cent. run-on lines, figures which substantiate the conclusions derivable from a scrutiny of its style and content.9InI, iiMassinger appears in his element, an episode permitting opportunities for the forensic fervor which was his especial forte. Such Scenes occur again and again in his plays: the conversion of the daughters of Theophilus by the Virgin Martyr, the plea of the Duke of Milan to the Emperor, of old Malefort to his judges inThe Unnatural Combat, of Antiochus to the Carthagenian senate inBelieve as You List. From the speech with which DuCroy opens court (I, ii, 1–3)—cf. the inauguration of the senate-house scene inThe Roman Actor, C-G. 197 b,Fathers conscript, may this our meeting beHappy to Caesar and the commonwealth!—to the very end, it abounds with Massingerisms:Knowing judgment;Speak to the cause;I foresaw this(an especial favorite of the poet’s);Strange boldness!; the construction,If that curses, etc;—also cf.l. 117ff. withTo undervalue him whose least fam’d serviceScornes to be put in ballance with the bestOf all your Counsailes.(Sir John van Olden B., Bullen’sOld Plays, II, 232.)We have seen that the hand of Field has been asserted to appear in the last half of this Scene. This is probably due to the presence here of several rhymed couplets, which are uncommon in Massinger save as tags at the end of Scenes or of impressive speeches, but not absolutely unknown in his work; whereas Field employs them frequently—in particular to set off a gnomic utterance. If Field’s indeed, they can scarcely represent more than his revising touch here and there; everything else in this part of the Scene bespeaks Massinger no less clearly than does the portion which preceeds it. There continues the same stately declamation, punctuated at intervals by brief comments or replies, the same periodic sentence-structure, the same or even greater frequency of characteristic diction. Massinger again and again refers in his plays to the successive hardships of the summer’s heat and winter’s frost (l. 184—cf. C-G. 168 b, 205 a, 392 b, 488 b);stand boundoccurs literally scores of times upon his pages (three times on C-G. 77 a alone);—typical also arein their dreadful ruins buried quick(l. 178—cf. C-G. 603 a, 625 a,Sir John van Olden B., Bullin’sOld Plays, II, 209),Be constant in it(l. 196—cf. C-G. 2 a, 137 a, 237 a, 329 a),Strange rashness!,It is my wonder(l. 293—cf. C-G. 26 b, 195 b; D. VIII, 438; XI, 34). Cf. alsol. 156,To quit the burthen of a hopeless life,with C-G. 615 b,To ease the burthen of a wretched life.Andll. 284–6,But would you hadMade trial of my love in anythingBut this,with C-G. 286 a,I could wish you hadMade trial of my love some other way.And again,ll. 301–3,and his goodnessRising above his fortune, seems to me,Princelike, to will, not ask, a courtesy.with D. XI. 37,in his face appearsA kind of majesty which should command,Not sue for favour.and the general likeness ofl. 258ff. with C-G. 44 b-45 a, as above noted. Nor do the verse tests reveal any break in the continuity of the Scene; the figures for the first part are: double endings, 45 per cent.; run-on lines, 33 per cent.—for the second part: double endings, 36 per cent.; run-on lines, 36 per cent.Passing to theSecond Act, we discover at once a new manner of expression, in which the sentence has a looser structure, the verse a quickertempo, the poetry a striving now and again for a note of lyric beauty which, although satisfactorily achieved in but few lines, is by Massinger’s verse not even attempted. A liberal sprinkling of rhymes appears. The Scene is a trifle more vividly conceived; the emotions have a somewhat more genuine ring. Simultaneously, resemblances to the phraseology of Massinger’s other plays become infrequent;and, to increase the wonder, is almost the only reminder of him in the whole of Scene i. On the other hand we must not expect to find in the work of Field the same large number of recognizable expressions as mark that of Massinger; for he was not nearly so given to repeating himself, nor are there many of his plays extant from which to garner parallels. The figure of speech with which Charalois opens his funeral address [Field shows a great predilection for “aqueous” similes and metaphors], the liberal use of oaths (’Slid,’Slight),a reference (l. 137) to the Bermudas (also mentioned inAmends for Ladies: M. 427), and the comparison to the oak and pine (ll. 119–121—cf. a Field Scene ofThe Queen of Corinth: D. V, 436–7) are the only specific minutia to which a finger can be pointed. The verse analysis testifies similarly to a different author from that of Act I, double endings being 20 per cent., run-on lines 15 per cent.—figures which are quite normal to Field.To the actor-dramatist may be set down the prose ofII, iiwithout question. Massinger practically never uses prose, which is liberally employed by Field, as is the almost indistinguishable prose-or-verse by which a transition is made from one medium to the other. The dialogue between Beaumelle and her maids is strikingly like that between two “gentlewomen” inThe Knight of Malta, I, ii—a Scene generally recognized as by his hand; the visit of Novall Junior which follows is like a page out of his earlier comedies. Notable resemblances are ll. 177–8,Uds-light! my lord, one of the purls of your band is, without all discipline, fallen out of his rank, withI have seen him sit discontented a whole play because one of the purls of his band was fallen out of his reach to order again. (Amends for Ladies, M. 455); andl. 104,they skip into my lord’s cast skins some twice a year, withand then my lord(like a snake)casts a suite every quarter, which I slip into: (Woman is a Weathercock, M. 374). The song, afterl. 131, recalls that inAmends for Ladies, M. 465.Of the verse which follows, most of the observations made in regard to the preceeding Scene are applicable. The comic touch in the midst of Romont’s tirade (ll. 174–206) against old Novall, when the vehemence of his indignation leads him to seek at every breath the epithet of a different beast for his foe, is surely Field’s, not Massinger’s. A Field scene ofThe Queen of Corinth, D. V, 438, parallels with itsThou a gentleman! thou an ass, the construction ofl. 276, while there too is duplicated thetrue-love knotsofl. 314, though in a rather grotesque connection. The verse tests are confirmative of Field: 21 per cent. double endings; 19 per cent, run-on lines. While a few resemblances to phrases occurring somewhere in the works of Massinger can be marked here and there in the 355 lines of the Scene, they are not such as would demand consideration, nor are more numerous than sheer chance would yield in the case of a writer so prolific asthe “stage-poet.” The parallel betweenll. 284–297and a passage fromThe Unnatural Combatis pointed out under the head ofDate, and one of several possible explanations for this coincidence is there offered. These lines inThe Fatal Dowryare as unmistakably Field’s as any verse in the entire play; their short, abruptly broken periods and their rapid flow are as characteristic of him as the style of their analogue inThe Unnatural Combatis patently Massingerian.Act IIIpresents a more difficult problem. It will be noted that Fleay and Boyle alike declare that its single long Scene is divided between the two authors, but are unable to agree as to the point of division. The first 316 lines are beyond question the work of Massinger. The tilt between Romont and Beaumelle is conducted with that flood of rhetorical vituperation by which he customarily attempts to delineate passion; in no portion of the play is his diction and sentence-structure more marked; and the parallels to passages elsewhere in his works reappear with redoubled profusion. Indeed, they become too numerous for complete citation; let it suffice to referll. 43–4to D. III, 477;ll. 53–4to C-G. 173 a;ll. 80–3to D. III, 481;l. 104to C-G. 532 a;l. 116to C-G. 146 b;ll. 117–8to D. VI, 294 and D. VI, 410;ll. 232–5to C-G. 307 a, also to 475 b, and to D. VIII, 406; while the phrase,Meet with an ill construction(l. 238) is a common one with Massinger (cf. C-G. 76 a, 141 b, 193 b, 225 b, 339 b), as are such ironic observations as theWhy, ’tis exceeding wellofl. 293(cf., e. g., 175 b). This part of the Scene contains 45 per cent. double endings and 36 per cent. run-on lines.The last 161 lines of the Act with scarcely less certainty can be established as Field’s, though on a first reading one might imagine, from the wordiness of the vehement dialogue and the rather high ratio (19:11) of speeches ending in mid-line, that the hand of Massinger continues throughout. But the closest examination no longer will reveal traces of that playwright’s distinctive handiwork, while a ratio of 17 per cent. for double endings and 28 per cent. for run-on lines, the introduction of rhyme, the oaths, and the change from the previous full-flowing declamation to shorter, more abrupt periods are vouchers that this part of the Scene is from the pen of the actor-dramatist. We can scarcely imaginethe ponderous-styled Massinger writing anything so easy and rapid asI’ll die first.Farewell; continue merry, and high heavenKeep your wife chaste.Such phrases asSo I not heard them(l. 352) andLike George a-horseback(l. 433) in the loose structure of the one and the slangy scurrility of the other, exhibit no kinship to his manner;l. 373,They are fools that judge me by my outward seemingrecalls a Field passage inThe Queen of Corinth(D. V, 444)They are fools that hold them dignified by blood. There is here and there, moreover, a certain violence of expression, a compressed over-trenchancy of phrase, that brings to mind the rant of the early Elizabethans, and is found among the Jacobeans only in the work of Rowley, Beaumont, and Field. For the last named, this is notably exemplified in the opening soliloquy ofThe Knight of Malta; we cannot but recognize the same touch here inll. 386–8:Thou dost strikeA deathful coldness to my heart’s high heat,And shrink’st my liver like the calenture.TheSomething I must do, which concludes the Act, is repeatedly paralleled in Massinger’s plays, but a similar indefinite resolve is expressed inWoman is a Weathercock(M. 363), and it consequently cannot be adduced as evidence of his hand. Immediately above, however (ll. 494–6), we encounter, in the allusion to the Italian and Dutch temperaments, a thought twice echoed by the “stage-poet” in plays of not greatly later date,The Duke of MilanandThe Little French Lawyer(C-G. 90 a; D. III, 505). It may represent an interpolation by Massinger; it may be merely that this rather striking conclusion to the climatic speech of his collaborator’s scene so fixed itself on his mind as to crop out afterwards in his own productions.In the short disputed passage (ll. 317–343) which separates what is undoubtedly Massinger’s from what is undoubtedly Field’s, it would appear that both playwrights had a hand. The’Sdeath and Gads me!, the play upon the wordcurrier, and thephrase,I shall be with you suddenly(cf.Q. of Cor.D. V, 467) speak for Field; while Massinger, on the other hand, parallelsHis backAppears to me as it would tire a beadle;withA man of resolution, whose shouldersAre of themselves armour of proof, againstA bastinado, and will tire ten beadles.—C-G. 186 b;and the phrase “to sit down with a disgrace” occurs something like a dozen times on his pages, especially frequently in the collaborated plays—that is to say, in the earlier period of his work, to whichThe Fatal Dowrybelongs. It is probable, and not unnatural, that the labors of the partners in composition overlapped on this bit of the Scene, but metrical analysis claims with as much certainty as can attach to this test in the case of so short a passage that it is substantially Massinger’s, and should go rather with what preceeds than with what comes after it, the verse being all one piece with that of the former section. It has 37 per cent. double endings and 41 per cent. run-on lines.IV, i,opens with a prose passage for all the world like that ofWoman is a Weathercock, I, ii, with its picture of the dandy, his parasites, and the pert page who forms a sort of chorus with his causticasides; and writes itself down indisputably as by the same author. Novall Junior and his coterie appear here as in their former presentation inII, ii. We have again the same racy comedy, the same faltering of the vehicle between verse and prose (seell. 61–8;137–153). After the clearing of the stage of all save Romont and young Novall, uninterrupted verse ensues, which, despite a rather notable parallel inThe Beggars’ Bush, D. IX, 9 tol. 174, is evidently Field’s also. An analogue ofll. 180–1is discoverable inAmends for Ladies(M. 421), as is of the reference (l. 197) to “fairies’ treasure” inWoman is a Weathercock(M. 344). Novall’s exclamation (l. 182),Pox of this gun!and his retort (l. 201),Good devil to your rogueship!are Fieldian, and the entire passage possesses a vigor and an easy naturalness which declare his authorship. It is not improbable, however, that his contribution ends with the fragmentaryl. 207, and that the remaining four lines of the Scene are a Massingertag.The Maid of Honour(C-G. 28 a) furnishes a striking parallel forll. 208–9, while for210–1cf. C-G. 192 a. The metrical tests forIV, i, confirm Field: 22 per cent. double endings; 22 per cent. run-on lines.With the next Scene the hand of Massinger is once more in evidence with all its accustomed manifestations. One interested in his duplication of characteristic phrasing may refer for comparisonll. 13–4to C-G. 299 b;l. 17to C-G. 241 a;ll. 24–6to C-G. 547 b;ll. 29–30to C-G. 425 b;l. 57to C-G. 41 b, 70 b;l. 94to C-G. 182 b. The Scene contains 32 per cent. double endings and 37 per cent. run-on lines. The authorship of its two songs is less certain. Field was more given to song-writing than was Massinger, and the second of this pair is reminiscent in its conception of the Grace Seldom episode inAmends for Ladies(II, i).The shortIV, iiiis by Massinger. In evidence of him are its 36 per cent. of double endings and 55 per cent. of run-on lines, its involved sentence structure, and the familiar phrasing which makes itself manifest even in so brief a passage (e. g.:To play the parasite,l. 7—cf.V, iii, 78and C-G. 334 b. Cf. alsoll. 9–10with D. III, 476; andl. 22with C-G. 40 b, 153 a, 262 b.).The same dramatist’s work continues through the last Scene of the Act. This, the emotional climax of the play, representing a quasi-judicial procedure, affords him abundant opportunity for fervid moralizing and speech-making, of which he takes advantage most typically. Massinger commonplaces arel. 29,Made shipwreck of your faith(cf. C-G. 55 b, 235 a, 414 b);l. 56,In the forbidden labyrinth of lust(cf. C-G. 298 b);l. 89,Angels guard me!(cf. C-G. 59 b, 475 b);l. 118–9,and yield myself Most miserably guilty(cf. C-G. 61 b, 66 b, 130 a; D. VI, 354); etc.; while within a year or so of the time when he wrote referring to “those famed matrons” (l. 70), he expatiated upon them in detail (seeThe Virgin Martyr, C-G. 33 a). Yet more specific parallels may be found: forl. 63cf. C-G. 179 a;ll. 76–7, cf. C-G. 28 a;l. 78, cf. C-G. 32 b;ll. 162–3, cf. C-G. 3 b, in a passage wherein there is a certain similarity of situation;l. 177, cf. D. IX, 7. Were any further confirmation needed for Massinger’s authorship, the metrical tests would supply it, with their 36 per cent. double endings and 34 per cent. run-on lines.The most cursory reading ofV, iis sufficient to establish theconviction that its author is not identical with that of the earlier comic passages—is not Field, but Massinger. The humor, such as it is, is of a graver, more restrained sort—satiric rather than burlesque; it has lost lightness and verve, and approaches to high-comedy and even to moralizing. One feels that the confession of the tailor-gallant is no mere fun-making devise, but a caustic attack upon social conditions against which the writer nurtured a grudge. Massingerian are such expressions asAnd now I think on’t better(l. 77—cf. C-G. 57 b, 468 a, 615 a; D. XI, 28), anduse a conscience(l. 90—cf. C-G. 444 a, 453 a), while the metrical evidence of 36 per cent. double endings and 29 per cent. run-on lines fortifies a case concerning which all commentators are in agreement. But despite the unanimity of critical opinion hitherto, I am not sure that Field did not contribute a minor touch here and there to the Scene. Such contribution, if a fact, must have been small, for the Massinger flavor is unmistakable throughout; yet in thePlague on’t!and the’Slid!, in the play upon words (ll. 13–4,20–1,44), which is rare with Massinger and common with Field, in the line,I only know[thee]now to hate thee deadly: (cf.Amends for Ladies, M. 421:I never more Will hear or see thee, but will hate thee deadly.), we may, perhaps, detect a hint of his hand.Scene ii(which in the Quarto ends with the reconciliation of Charalois and Romont, the entry of Du Croy, Charmi, etc. being marked as the beginning of a third Scene, though the place is unchanged and the action continuous, wherefore modern editors disregard the Quarto’s division and count Scene ii as including all the remainder of the Act) presents the usual distinctive earmarks of a Massinger passage. The last third of it, however (ll. 80–121), has, on account of the presence of several rhymes, been commonly assigned to Field. No doubt his hand is here discernable;l. 118,mark’d me out the way how to defend it, is scarcely a Massinger construction either; but I cannot think Field’s presence here more than that of a reviser, just as in the latter half ofI, ii. The language remains more Massinger’s than Field’s; and while the passage is over-short for metrical tests to be decisive, the 39 per cent. of double endings and 35 per cent. of run-on lines which it yields (for the earlier part of the Scene the figures are respectively 28 per cent. and 35 percent.) are corroborative of Massinger’s authorship. Cf. alsoll. 96–8with this fromThe Renegado(C-G. 157 a):
In the Stationer’s Register the following entry is recorded under the date of “30º Martij 1632:”
CONSTABLE Entred for his copy vnder the hands of Sir HENRY HERBERT and masterSMITHWICKEwarden a Tragedy calledthe ffatall Dowry. Vj d.
In the year 1632 was published a quarto volume whose title-page was inscribed:The Fatall Dowry: a Tragedy: As it hath been often Acted at the Private House in Blackfriars, by his Majesties Servants. Written by P. M. and N. F. London, Printed by John Norton, for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop at the Crane, in Pauls Churchyard. 1632.
That the initials by which the authors are designated stand for Philip Massinger and Nathaniel Field is undoubted.
There is no other seventeenth century edition ofThe Fatal Dowry. It was included in various subsequent collections, as follows:
In addition to the above,The Fatal Dowryappeared inThe Plays of Philip Massinger, adapted for family reading and the use of young persons, by the omission of objectionable passages,—edited by Harness, 1830–1; and another expurgated version was printed in theMirror of Taste and Dramatic Censor, 1810. Both of these are based on the text of Gifford.
The edition of Coxeter is closest of all to the Quarto, following even many of its most palpable mistakes, and adding some blunders on its own account. Mason accepts practically all of Coxeter’s corrections, and supplies a great many more variants himself, not all of which are very happy. Both these eighteenth century editors continually contract for the sake of securing a perfectly regular metre (e. g.:You’reforYou are,I, i, 139;th’ honoursforthe honours,I, ii, 35; etc.), while Gifford’s tendency is to give the full form for even the contractions of the Quarto, changing its’em’stothem’s, etc. Gifford can scarce find words sharp enough to express his scorn for his predecessors in their lack of observance of the text of the Quarto, yet he himself frequently repeats their gratuitous emendations when the original was a perfectly sure guide, and he has almost a mania for tampering with the Quarto on his own account. Symons’Mermaidtext, while based essentially on that of Gifford, in a number of instances departs from it, sometimes to make further emendations, but more often to go back from those of Gifford to the version of the original, so that on the whole this is the best text yet published.
There has been a German translation by the Graf von Baudisson, under the title ofDie Unselige Mitgift, in hisBen Jonson und seine Schule, Leipsig, 1836; and a French translation, in prose, under the title ofLa dot fataleby E. Lafond inContemporains de Shakespeare, Paris, 1864.
The date of the composition or original production ofThe Fatal Dowryis not known. The Quarto speaks of it as havingbeen “often acted,” so there is nothing to prevent our supposing that it came into existence many years before its publication. It does not seem to have been entered in Sir Henry Herbert’s Office Book.1This would indicate its appearance to have been prior to Herbert’s assumption of the duties of his office in August, 1623. In seeking a more precise date we can deal only in probabilities.2
The play having been produced by the King’s Men, a company in which Field acted, it was most probably written during his association therewith. This was formed in 1616; the precise date of his retirement from the stage is not known. His name appears in the patent of March 27, 1619, just after the death of Burbage, and again and for the last time in a livery list for his Majesty’s Servants, dated May 19, 1619. It is absent from the next grant for livery (1621) and from the actors’ lists for various plays which are assigned to 1619 or 1620. We may therefore assume safely that his connection with the stage ended before the close of 1619. On the basis of probability, then, the field is narrowed to 1616–19.3
More or less presumptive evidence may be adduced for a yet more specific dating. During these years that Field acted with the King’s Men, two plays appeared which bear strong internal evidence of being products of his collaboration with Massinger and Fletcher:The Knight of MaltaandThe Queen of Corinth. While several parallels of phraseology are afforded forThe Fatal Dowryby these (as, indeed, by every one of the works of Massinger) they are not nearly so numerous or so striking as similarities discoverable between it and certain other dramas of the Massingercorpus. With none does the connection seem so intimate as withThe Unnatural Combat. Both plays open with a scene in which a young suppliant for a father’s cause is counseled, in passages irresistibly reminiscent of each other, to lay aside pride and modesty for the parent’s sake, because not otherwise can justice be gained, and it is the custom of the age to sue for it shamelessly. Moreover, the offer by Beaufort and his associatesto Malefort of any boon he may desire as a recompense for his service, and his acceptance of it, correspond strikingly in both conduct and language with the conferring of a like favor upon Rochfort by the Court (I, ii, 258ff.); while the request which Malefort prefers, that his daughter be married to Beaufort Junior, and the language with which that young man acknowledges this meets his own dearest wish, bear a no less patent resemblance to the bestowal of Beaumelle upon Charalois (II, ii, 284–297). Now this last parallel is significant, becauseThe Unnatural Combatis an unaided production of Massinger, while the analogue inThe Fatal Dowryoccurs in a scene that is by the hand of Field. The similarity may, of course, be only an accident, but presumably it is not. Then did Field borrow from Massinger, or did Massinger from Field? The most plausible theory is thatThe Unnatural Combatwas written immediately afterThe Fatal Dowry, when Massinger’s mind was so saturated with the contents of the tragedy just laid aside that he was liable to echo in the new drama the expressions and import of lines in the old, whether by himself or his collaborator. That at any rate the chronological relationship of the two plays is one of juxtaposition is further attested by the fact that in minor parallelisms,4too, toThe Fatal Dowry,The Unnatural Combatis richer than any other work of Massinger.
UnfortunatelyThe Unnatural Combatis itself another play of whose date no more can be said with assurance than that it preceeds the entry of Sir Henry Herbert into office in 1623, though its crude horrors, its ghost, etc., suggest moreover that it is its author’s initial independent venture in the field of tragedy, hisTitus Andronicus, an ill-advised attempt to produce something after the “grand manner” of half a generation back. Next in closeness toThe Fatal Dowryamong the works of Massinger as regards the number of its reminiscences of phraseology stands his share ofThe Virgin Martyr; next in closeness as regards thestrikingnessof these parallels stands his share ofThe Little French Lawyer. These two plays can be datedcirca1620.
To sum up:
The Fatal Dowryappears to antedate the installation of Sir Henry Herbert in 1623.
It was probably written while Field was with the King’s Men; with whom he became associated in 1616, and whom he probably quitted in 1619.
The indications point to its composition during the latter part of this three-year period (1616–19), for it yields more and closer parallels toThe Virgin MartyrandThe Little French Lawyer, dated about 1620, than toThe Knight of MaltaandThe Queen of Corinth, dated 1617–8,—closer, indeed, than to any work of Massinger save one,The Unnatural Combat, itself an undated but evidently early play, with which its relationship is clearly of the most intimate variety.
The following (at best hazardously conjectural) scheme of sequence may be advanced:
Fletcher and Massinger and Field together wroteThe Knight of MaltaandThe Queen of Corinth—according to received theory, in 1617 or 1618. Thereafter, the last two collaborators (desirous, perhaps, of trying what they could do unaided and unshackled by the dominating association of the chief dramatist of the day) joined hands in the production of the tragedy which is the subject of our study. Then, upon Field’s retirement, Massinger struck off, withThe Unnatural Combat, into unassisted composition; but we next find him, whether because he recognized the short-comings of this turgid play or for other reasons, again in double harness, at work uponThe Virgin MartyrandThe Little French Lawyer. On this hypothesis,The Fatal Dowrywould be dated 1618–9.
No source is known for the main plot ofThe Fatal Dowry. A Spanish original has been suspected, but it has never come to light. The stress laid throughout the action on that peculiarly Spanish conception of “the point of honor” (see underCritical Estimate,in consideration of the character of Charalois) is unquestionably suggestive of the land south of the Pyrenees, and we have an echo ofDon Quixotein the exclamation of Charalois (III, i, 441): “Away, thou curious impertinent.” The identification, however, of the situation at Aymer’s house inIV, iiwith a scene in Cervantes’El viejo celoso(Obras Completas De Cervantes, Tomo XII, p. 277) is extremely fanciful. The only similarity consists in the circumstance that in both, while the husband is on the stage, the wife, who, unknown to him, entertains a lover in the next room, is heard speaking within. But this is a spontaneous outcry on the part of Beaumelle, who does not suspect the proximity of her husband, and her discovery follows, and from this the denouement of the play; whereas in Cervantes’entremesthe wife deliberately calls in bravado to her niece, who is also on-stage, and boasts of her lover,—and the husband thinks this is in jest, and nothing comes of it but comedy.
The theme of the son’s redemption of his father’s corpse by his own captivity is from the classical story of Cimon and Miltiades, as narrated by Valerius Maximus, De dictis factisque memorabilibus, etc. Lib. V, cap. III. De ingratis externorum:Bene egissent Athenienses cum Miltiade, si eum post trecenta millia Persarum Marathone devicta, in exilium protinus misissent, ac non in carcere et vinculis mori coegissent; sed, ut puto, hactenus saevire adversus optime meritum abunde duxerunt: immo ne corpus quidem eius, sic expirare coacti sepulturae primus mandari passi sunt, quam filius eius Cimon eisdem vinculis se constrigendum traderet. Hanc hereditatem paternam maximi ducis filius, et futurus ipse aetatis suae dux maximus, solam se crevisse, catenas et carcerem, gloriari potuit.
In the version of Cornelius Nepos (Vitae, Cimon I) Cimon is incarcerated against his will.
The action of the play is given the historical setting of the later fifteenth century wars of Louis XI of France and Charles the Bold of Burgundy, although this background is extremely hazy. The hero’s name is the title which Charles bore while heir-apparent to the Duchy of Burgundy; mention is made of Charles himself (“The warlike Charloyes,”I, ii, 171), to Louis (“the subtill Fox of France, The politique Lewis,”I, ii, 123–4), and to “the more desperate Swisse” (I, ii, 124), against whom Charleslost his life and the power of Burgundy was broken; while the three great defeats he suffered at their hands, Granson, Morat, Nancy, are named inI, ii, 170. Shortly after these disasters the events which the play sets forth must be supposed to occur; the parliament by which in our drama Dijon is governed was established by Louis XI when he annexed Burgundy in 1477 and thereby abolished her ducal independence.
It is doubtful if Massinger ever collaborated with any author whose manner harmonized as well with his own as did Field’s. In his partnership with Decker inThe Virgin Martyr, the alternate hands of the two dramatists afford a weird contrast.5His union with Fletcher was less incongruous, but Fletcher was too much inclined to take the bit between his teeth to be a comfortable companion in double harness,6and at all times his volatile, prodigal genius paired ill with the earnest, painstaking, not over-poetic moralist. But in Field Massinger found an associate whose connection with himself was not only congenial, but even beneficial, to the end that together they could achieve certain results of which either was individually incapable; just as it has been established was the case in the Middleton-Rowley collaboration. To a formal element of verse different, indeed, from Massinger’s, but not obtrusively so, a certain moral fibre of his own (perhaps derived from his clerical antecedents), and a like familiarity with stage technique, Field added qualities which Massinger notably lacked, and thereby complemented him: a light and vigorous (if sometimes coarse) comic touch as opposed to Massinger’s cumbrous humor; a freshness and first-hand acquaintance with life as opposed to Massinger’s bookishness; a capacityto visualize and individualize character as opposed to Massinger’s weakness for drawing types rather than people. The fruit of their joint endeavors testifies to a harmonious, conscientious, and mutually respecting partnership.
In consideration of the above, it is surprising how substantially in accord are most of the opinions that have been expressed concerning the share of the play written by each author.
“A critical reader,” says Monck Mason, “will perceive that Rochfort and Charalois speak a different language in the Second and Third Acts, from that which they speak in the first and last, which are undoubtedly Massinger’s; as is also Part of the Fourth Act, but not the whole of it.”
Dr. Ireland, in a postscript to the text ofThe Fatal Dowryin Gifford’s edition, agrees with Mason in assigning the Second Act to Field and also the First Scene of the Fourth Act; the Third Act, however, he claims for Massinger, as well as that share of the play with which Mason credits him. Fleay and Boyle, the chief modern commentators who have taken up the question of the division of authorship with the aid of metrical tests and other criteria, agree fairly well with the speculations of their less scientific predecessors, and adopt an intermediate, reconciling position on the disputed Third Act, dividing it between the two dramatists.7
Boyle (Englische Studien, V, 94) assigns to MassingerAct I;Act IIIas far as line 316;Act IV, Scenes ii,iii, andiv; and the whole ofAct V, with the exception ofScene ii, lines 80–120, which he considers an interpolation of Field, whom he also believes to have revised the latter part ofI, ii(fromExeunt Officers with Romontto end).
Fleay (Chron. Eng. Dra., I, 208) exactly agrees with this division save that the latter part ofI, ii, which Boyle believes emended by Field, he assigns to that author outright; and that he places the division in Act III twenty-seven lines later (Field afterManent Char. Rom.).
In my own investigation I have used for each Scene the following tests to distinguish the hands of the two authors:
(a) Broad aesthetic considerations: the comparison of style and method of treatment with the known work of either dramatist.
(b) The test of parallel phrases. Massinger’s habit of repeating himself is notorious. I have gone through the entire body of his work, both that which appears under his name, and that which has been assigned to him by modern research in the Beaumont & Fletcher plays, and noted all expressions I found analogous to any which occur inThe Fatal Dowry. I have done the same for Field’s work, examining his two comedies,Woman is a WeathercockandAmends for Ladies, and Acts I and V ofThe Knight of Maltaand III and IV ofThe Queen of Corinth, which the consensus of critical opinion recognizes (in my judgment, correctly) as his. He is generally believed to have collaborated also inThe Honest Man’s Fortune, but the exact extent of his work therein is so uncertain that I have not deemed it a proper field from which to adduce evidence. His hand has been asserted by one authority or another to appear in various other plays of the period, he having served, as it were, the role of a literary scapegoat on whom it was convenient to father any Scene not identified as belonging to Beaumont, Fletcher, or Massinger; but there is no convincing evidence for his participation in the composition of any extant dramas save the above named.
(c) Metrical tests. I have computed the figures forThe Fatal Dowryin regard to double or feminine endings and run-on lines. Massinger’s verse displays high percentages (normally 30 per cent, to 45 per cent.) in the case of either. Field’s verse varies considerably in the matter of run-on lines at various periods of his life, but the proportion of them is always smaller than Massinger’s. His double endings average about 18 per cent. I have also counted in each Scene the number of speeches that end within the line, and that end with the line, respectively. (Speeches ending with fragmentary lines are considered to have mid-line endings.) This is declared by Oliphant (Eng. Studien, XIV, 72) the surest test for the work of Massinger. “His percentage of speeches,” he says, “that end where the verses end is ordinarily as low as 15.” This is a tremendous exaggeration, but it is truethat the ratio of mid-line endings is much higher in Massinger than in any of his contemporaries—commonly 2:1, or higher.
We find theFirst Scene of Act Ione of those skillful introductions to the action which the “stage-poet” knew so well how to handle, for which reason, probably, he was generally intrusted with the initial Scene of the plays in which he collaborated. Thoroughly Massingerian are its satire upon the degenerate age and its grave, measured style, rhetorical where it strives to be passionate, and replete with characteristic expressions. Especially striking examples of the dramatist’s well-known and never-failingpenchantfor the recurrent use of certain ideas and phrases are:As I could run the hazard of a check for’t.(l. 10)—cf.8C-G. 87 b, 156 b, 327 b; D. V, 328; XI, 28;—You shall o’ercome.(l. 101)—cf. C-G. 230 b, 248 b, 392 a;—andll. 183–7—cf. C-G. 206 a, 63 a, 91 a, 134 b. The correspondence betweenll. 81–99and the opening ofThe Unnatural Combathas already been remarked on, while further reminiscences of the same passage are to be found elsewhere in Massinger (C-G. 104 a, 195 b). Metrical tests show for the Scene 33 per cent. double endings and 29 per cent. run-on lines, figures which substantiate the conclusions derivable from a scrutiny of its style and content.9
InI, iiMassinger appears in his element, an episode permitting opportunities for the forensic fervor which was his especial forte. Such Scenes occur again and again in his plays: the conversion of the daughters of Theophilus by the Virgin Martyr, the plea of the Duke of Milan to the Emperor, of old Malefort to his judges inThe Unnatural Combat, of Antiochus to the Carthagenian senate inBelieve as You List. From the speech with which DuCroy opens court (I, ii, 1–3)—cf. the inauguration of the senate-house scene inThe Roman Actor, C-G. 197 b,
Fathers conscript, may this our meeting beHappy to Caesar and the commonwealth!
Fathers conscript, may this our meeting be
Happy to Caesar and the commonwealth!
—to the very end, it abounds with Massingerisms:Knowing judgment;Speak to the cause;I foresaw this(an especial favorite of the poet’s);Strange boldness!; the construction,If that curses, etc;—also cf.l. 117ff. with
To undervalue him whose least fam’d serviceScornes to be put in ballance with the bestOf all your Counsailes.(Sir John van Olden B., Bullen’sOld Plays, II, 232.)
To undervalue him whose least fam’d service
Scornes to be put in ballance with the best
Of all your Counsailes.
(Sir John van Olden B., Bullen’sOld Plays, II, 232.)
We have seen that the hand of Field has been asserted to appear in the last half of this Scene. This is probably due to the presence here of several rhymed couplets, which are uncommon in Massinger save as tags at the end of Scenes or of impressive speeches, but not absolutely unknown in his work; whereas Field employs them frequently—in particular to set off a gnomic utterance. If Field’s indeed, they can scarcely represent more than his revising touch here and there; everything else in this part of the Scene bespeaks Massinger no less clearly than does the portion which preceeds it. There continues the same stately declamation, punctuated at intervals by brief comments or replies, the same periodic sentence-structure, the same or even greater frequency of characteristic diction. Massinger again and again refers in his plays to the successive hardships of the summer’s heat and winter’s frost (l. 184—cf. C-G. 168 b, 205 a, 392 b, 488 b);stand boundoccurs literally scores of times upon his pages (three times on C-G. 77 a alone);—typical also arein their dreadful ruins buried quick(l. 178—cf. C-G. 603 a, 625 a,Sir John van Olden B., Bullin’sOld Plays, II, 209),Be constant in it(l. 196—cf. C-G. 2 a, 137 a, 237 a, 329 a),Strange rashness!,It is my wonder(l. 293—cf. C-G. 26 b, 195 b; D. VIII, 438; XI, 34). Cf. alsol. 156,
To quit the burthen of a hopeless life,
To quit the burthen of a hopeless life,
with C-G. 615 b,
To ease the burthen of a wretched life.
To ease the burthen of a wretched life.
Andll. 284–6,
But would you hadMade trial of my love in anythingBut this,
But would you had
Made trial of my love in anything
But this,
with C-G. 286 a,
I could wish you hadMade trial of my love some other way.
I could wish you had
Made trial of my love some other way.
And again,ll. 301–3,
and his goodnessRising above his fortune, seems to me,Princelike, to will, not ask, a courtesy.
and his goodness
Rising above his fortune, seems to me,
Princelike, to will, not ask, a courtesy.
with D. XI. 37,
in his face appearsA kind of majesty which should command,Not sue for favour.
in his face appears
A kind of majesty which should command,
Not sue for favour.
and the general likeness ofl. 258ff. with C-G. 44 b-45 a, as above noted. Nor do the verse tests reveal any break in the continuity of the Scene; the figures for the first part are: double endings, 45 per cent.; run-on lines, 33 per cent.—for the second part: double endings, 36 per cent.; run-on lines, 36 per cent.
Passing to theSecond Act, we discover at once a new manner of expression, in which the sentence has a looser structure, the verse a quickertempo, the poetry a striving now and again for a note of lyric beauty which, although satisfactorily achieved in but few lines, is by Massinger’s verse not even attempted. A liberal sprinkling of rhymes appears. The Scene is a trifle more vividly conceived; the emotions have a somewhat more genuine ring. Simultaneously, resemblances to the phraseology of Massinger’s other plays become infrequent;and, to increase the wonder, is almost the only reminder of him in the whole of Scene i. On the other hand we must not expect to find in the work of Field the same large number of recognizable expressions as mark that of Massinger; for he was not nearly so given to repeating himself, nor are there many of his plays extant from which to garner parallels. The figure of speech with which Charalois opens his funeral address [Field shows a great predilection for “aqueous” similes and metaphors], the liberal use of oaths (’Slid,’Slight),a reference (l. 137) to the Bermudas (also mentioned inAmends for Ladies: M. 427), and the comparison to the oak and pine (ll. 119–121—cf. a Field Scene ofThe Queen of Corinth: D. V, 436–7) are the only specific minutia to which a finger can be pointed. The verse analysis testifies similarly to a different author from that of Act I, double endings being 20 per cent., run-on lines 15 per cent.—figures which are quite normal to Field.
To the actor-dramatist may be set down the prose ofII, iiwithout question. Massinger practically never uses prose, which is liberally employed by Field, as is the almost indistinguishable prose-or-verse by which a transition is made from one medium to the other. The dialogue between Beaumelle and her maids is strikingly like that between two “gentlewomen” inThe Knight of Malta, I, ii—a Scene generally recognized as by his hand; the visit of Novall Junior which follows is like a page out of his earlier comedies. Notable resemblances are ll. 177–8,Uds-light! my lord, one of the purls of your band is, without all discipline, fallen out of his rank, withI have seen him sit discontented a whole play because one of the purls of his band was fallen out of his reach to order again. (Amends for Ladies, M. 455); andl. 104,they skip into my lord’s cast skins some twice a year, withand then my lord(like a snake)casts a suite every quarter, which I slip into: (Woman is a Weathercock, M. 374). The song, afterl. 131, recalls that inAmends for Ladies, M. 465.
Of the verse which follows, most of the observations made in regard to the preceeding Scene are applicable. The comic touch in the midst of Romont’s tirade (ll. 174–206) against old Novall, when the vehemence of his indignation leads him to seek at every breath the epithet of a different beast for his foe, is surely Field’s, not Massinger’s. A Field scene ofThe Queen of Corinth, D. V, 438, parallels with itsThou a gentleman! thou an ass, the construction ofl. 276, while there too is duplicated thetrue-love knotsofl. 314, though in a rather grotesque connection. The verse tests are confirmative of Field: 21 per cent. double endings; 19 per cent, run-on lines. While a few resemblances to phrases occurring somewhere in the works of Massinger can be marked here and there in the 355 lines of the Scene, they are not such as would demand consideration, nor are more numerous than sheer chance would yield in the case of a writer so prolific asthe “stage-poet.” The parallel betweenll. 284–297and a passage fromThe Unnatural Combatis pointed out under the head ofDate, and one of several possible explanations for this coincidence is there offered. These lines inThe Fatal Dowryare as unmistakably Field’s as any verse in the entire play; their short, abruptly broken periods and their rapid flow are as characteristic of him as the style of their analogue inThe Unnatural Combatis patently Massingerian.
Act IIIpresents a more difficult problem. It will be noted that Fleay and Boyle alike declare that its single long Scene is divided between the two authors, but are unable to agree as to the point of division. The first 316 lines are beyond question the work of Massinger. The tilt between Romont and Beaumelle is conducted with that flood of rhetorical vituperation by which he customarily attempts to delineate passion; in no portion of the play is his diction and sentence-structure more marked; and the parallels to passages elsewhere in his works reappear with redoubled profusion. Indeed, they become too numerous for complete citation; let it suffice to referll. 43–4to D. III, 477;ll. 53–4to C-G. 173 a;ll. 80–3to D. III, 481;l. 104to C-G. 532 a;l. 116to C-G. 146 b;ll. 117–8to D. VI, 294 and D. VI, 410;ll. 232–5to C-G. 307 a, also to 475 b, and to D. VIII, 406; while the phrase,Meet with an ill construction(l. 238) is a common one with Massinger (cf. C-G. 76 a, 141 b, 193 b, 225 b, 339 b), as are such ironic observations as theWhy, ’tis exceeding wellofl. 293(cf., e. g., 175 b). This part of the Scene contains 45 per cent. double endings and 36 per cent. run-on lines.
The last 161 lines of the Act with scarcely less certainty can be established as Field’s, though on a first reading one might imagine, from the wordiness of the vehement dialogue and the rather high ratio (19:11) of speeches ending in mid-line, that the hand of Massinger continues throughout. But the closest examination no longer will reveal traces of that playwright’s distinctive handiwork, while a ratio of 17 per cent. for double endings and 28 per cent. for run-on lines, the introduction of rhyme, the oaths, and the change from the previous full-flowing declamation to shorter, more abrupt periods are vouchers that this part of the Scene is from the pen of the actor-dramatist. We can scarcely imaginethe ponderous-styled Massinger writing anything so easy and rapid as
I’ll die first.Farewell; continue merry, and high heavenKeep your wife chaste.
I’ll die first.
Farewell; continue merry, and high heaven
Keep your wife chaste.
Such phrases asSo I not heard them(l. 352) andLike George a-horseback(l. 433) in the loose structure of the one and the slangy scurrility of the other, exhibit no kinship to his manner;l. 373,They are fools that judge me by my outward seemingrecalls a Field passage inThe Queen of Corinth(D. V, 444)They are fools that hold them dignified by blood. There is here and there, moreover, a certain violence of expression, a compressed over-trenchancy of phrase, that brings to mind the rant of the early Elizabethans, and is found among the Jacobeans only in the work of Rowley, Beaumont, and Field. For the last named, this is notably exemplified in the opening soliloquy ofThe Knight of Malta; we cannot but recognize the same touch here inll. 386–8:
Thou dost strikeA deathful coldness to my heart’s high heat,And shrink’st my liver like the calenture.
Thou dost strike
A deathful coldness to my heart’s high heat,
And shrink’st my liver like the calenture.
TheSomething I must do, which concludes the Act, is repeatedly paralleled in Massinger’s plays, but a similar indefinite resolve is expressed inWoman is a Weathercock(M. 363), and it consequently cannot be adduced as evidence of his hand. Immediately above, however (ll. 494–6), we encounter, in the allusion to the Italian and Dutch temperaments, a thought twice echoed by the “stage-poet” in plays of not greatly later date,The Duke of MilanandThe Little French Lawyer(C-G. 90 a; D. III, 505). It may represent an interpolation by Massinger; it may be merely that this rather striking conclusion to the climatic speech of his collaborator’s scene so fixed itself on his mind as to crop out afterwards in his own productions.
In the short disputed passage (ll. 317–343) which separates what is undoubtedly Massinger’s from what is undoubtedly Field’s, it would appear that both playwrights had a hand. The’Sdeath and Gads me!, the play upon the wordcurrier, and thephrase,I shall be with you suddenly(cf.Q. of Cor.D. V, 467) speak for Field; while Massinger, on the other hand, parallels
His backAppears to me as it would tire a beadle;
His back
Appears to me as it would tire a beadle;
with
A man of resolution, whose shouldersAre of themselves armour of proof, againstA bastinado, and will tire ten beadles.—C-G. 186 b;
A man of resolution, whose shoulders
Are of themselves armour of proof, against
A bastinado, and will tire ten beadles.—C-G. 186 b;
and the phrase “to sit down with a disgrace” occurs something like a dozen times on his pages, especially frequently in the collaborated plays—that is to say, in the earlier period of his work, to whichThe Fatal Dowrybelongs. It is probable, and not unnatural, that the labors of the partners in composition overlapped on this bit of the Scene, but metrical analysis claims with as much certainty as can attach to this test in the case of so short a passage that it is substantially Massinger’s, and should go rather with what preceeds than with what comes after it, the verse being all one piece with that of the former section. It has 37 per cent. double endings and 41 per cent. run-on lines.
IV, i,opens with a prose passage for all the world like that ofWoman is a Weathercock, I, ii, with its picture of the dandy, his parasites, and the pert page who forms a sort of chorus with his causticasides; and writes itself down indisputably as by the same author. Novall Junior and his coterie appear here as in their former presentation inII, ii. We have again the same racy comedy, the same faltering of the vehicle between verse and prose (seell. 61–8;137–153). After the clearing of the stage of all save Romont and young Novall, uninterrupted verse ensues, which, despite a rather notable parallel inThe Beggars’ Bush, D. IX, 9 tol. 174, is evidently Field’s also. An analogue ofll. 180–1is discoverable inAmends for Ladies(M. 421), as is of the reference (l. 197) to “fairies’ treasure” inWoman is a Weathercock(M. 344). Novall’s exclamation (l. 182),Pox of this gun!and his retort (l. 201),Good devil to your rogueship!are Fieldian, and the entire passage possesses a vigor and an easy naturalness which declare his authorship. It is not improbable, however, that his contribution ends with the fragmentaryl. 207, and that the remaining four lines of the Scene are a Massingertag.The Maid of Honour(C-G. 28 a) furnishes a striking parallel forll. 208–9, while for210–1cf. C-G. 192 a. The metrical tests forIV, i, confirm Field: 22 per cent. double endings; 22 per cent. run-on lines.
With the next Scene the hand of Massinger is once more in evidence with all its accustomed manifestations. One interested in his duplication of characteristic phrasing may refer for comparisonll. 13–4to C-G. 299 b;l. 17to C-G. 241 a;ll. 24–6to C-G. 547 b;ll. 29–30to C-G. 425 b;l. 57to C-G. 41 b, 70 b;l. 94to C-G. 182 b. The Scene contains 32 per cent. double endings and 37 per cent. run-on lines. The authorship of its two songs is less certain. Field was more given to song-writing than was Massinger, and the second of this pair is reminiscent in its conception of the Grace Seldom episode inAmends for Ladies(II, i).
The shortIV, iiiis by Massinger. In evidence of him are its 36 per cent. of double endings and 55 per cent. of run-on lines, its involved sentence structure, and the familiar phrasing which makes itself manifest even in so brief a passage (e. g.:To play the parasite,l. 7—cf.V, iii, 78and C-G. 334 b. Cf. alsoll. 9–10with D. III, 476; andl. 22with C-G. 40 b, 153 a, 262 b.).
The same dramatist’s work continues through the last Scene of the Act. This, the emotional climax of the play, representing a quasi-judicial procedure, affords him abundant opportunity for fervid moralizing and speech-making, of which he takes advantage most typically. Massinger commonplaces arel. 29,Made shipwreck of your faith(cf. C-G. 55 b, 235 a, 414 b);l. 56,In the forbidden labyrinth of lust(cf. C-G. 298 b);l. 89,Angels guard me!(cf. C-G. 59 b, 475 b);l. 118–9,and yield myself Most miserably guilty(cf. C-G. 61 b, 66 b, 130 a; D. VI, 354); etc.; while within a year or so of the time when he wrote referring to “those famed matrons” (l. 70), he expatiated upon them in detail (seeThe Virgin Martyr, C-G. 33 a). Yet more specific parallels may be found: forl. 63cf. C-G. 179 a;ll. 76–7, cf. C-G. 28 a;l. 78, cf. C-G. 32 b;ll. 162–3, cf. C-G. 3 b, in a passage wherein there is a certain similarity of situation;l. 177, cf. D. IX, 7. Were any further confirmation needed for Massinger’s authorship, the metrical tests would supply it, with their 36 per cent. double endings and 34 per cent. run-on lines.
The most cursory reading ofV, iis sufficient to establish theconviction that its author is not identical with that of the earlier comic passages—is not Field, but Massinger. The humor, such as it is, is of a graver, more restrained sort—satiric rather than burlesque; it has lost lightness and verve, and approaches to high-comedy and even to moralizing. One feels that the confession of the tailor-gallant is no mere fun-making devise, but a caustic attack upon social conditions against which the writer nurtured a grudge. Massingerian are such expressions asAnd now I think on’t better(l. 77—cf. C-G. 57 b, 468 a, 615 a; D. XI, 28), anduse a conscience(l. 90—cf. C-G. 444 a, 453 a), while the metrical evidence of 36 per cent. double endings and 29 per cent. run-on lines fortifies a case concerning which all commentators are in agreement. But despite the unanimity of critical opinion hitherto, I am not sure that Field did not contribute a minor touch here and there to the Scene. Such contribution, if a fact, must have been small, for the Massinger flavor is unmistakable throughout; yet in thePlague on’t!and the’Slid!, in the play upon words (ll. 13–4,20–1,44), which is rare with Massinger and common with Field, in the line,I only know[thee]now to hate thee deadly: (cf.Amends for Ladies, M. 421:I never more Will hear or see thee, but will hate thee deadly.), we may, perhaps, detect a hint of his hand.
Scene ii(which in the Quarto ends with the reconciliation of Charalois and Romont, the entry of Du Croy, Charmi, etc. being marked as the beginning of a third Scene, though the place is unchanged and the action continuous, wherefore modern editors disregard the Quarto’s division and count Scene ii as including all the remainder of the Act) presents the usual distinctive earmarks of a Massinger passage. The last third of it, however (ll. 80–121), has, on account of the presence of several rhymes, been commonly assigned to Field. No doubt his hand is here discernable;l. 118,mark’d me out the way how to defend it, is scarcely a Massinger construction either; but I cannot think Field’s presence here more than that of a reviser, just as in the latter half ofI, ii. The language remains more Massinger’s than Field’s; and while the passage is over-short for metrical tests to be decisive, the 39 per cent. of double endings and 35 per cent. of run-on lines which it yields (for the earlier part of the Scene the figures are respectively 28 per cent. and 35 percent.) are corroborative of Massinger’s authorship. Cf. alsoll. 96–8with this fromThe Renegado(C-G. 157 a):