What apprehension of recovery The pulse of England never yet did beat So strong as now: nor ever were our hearts As now they are: nor ever in all parts As now the glory of thy worth imparts: So weak before, hoped never for more health." 1 It is not at all improbable that Shakespeare's "gaudy spring" was this same exultant season; and if so, Southampton cannot have been the friend addressed with such glowing flattery and urgent fervour, seeing that he had then been married for several years. Pembroke was then twentythree years of age, and as the representative of the Sidneys might well be hailed as "the world's fresh ornament," and "only herald of the gaudy spring." The fact is, that the more one looks into this vexed question, the more does one find little particulars emerging, singly inconclusive, but all increasing the weight of the probability that Pembroke was the man. Let us turn now for a moment to a question hardly less interesting, namely-Who was the rival poet alluded to in the sonnets? So complete is the parallel of this course of true friendship to the course of true love that even the passion of jealousy finds a place. Nine sonnets (lxxviii.lxxxvi.) are occupied with the pretensions of other poets, and one poet in particular, to the gracious countenance of his patron. In the 80th sonnet he cries : "O how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, My saucy bark inferior far to his On your broad main doth wilfully appear." T Who was this "better spirit"? I hope I shall not be held guilty of hunting after paradox if I say that every possible poet has been named but the right one, nor of presumption if I say that he is so obvious that his escape from notice is something little short of miraculous. The 86th sonnet supplies ample means of identification :— "Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, I was not sick of any fear from thence : Mr The allusions to supernatural assistance are here very pointed, and upon the strength of them Marlowe has been suggested as having been a man of dark and mysterious reputation, who was suspected of dealings with evil spirits. The insuperable objection to Marlowe is that he died in 1593; and even supposing Southampton to have been Shakespeare's patron, we have no evidence of their acquaintance prior to 1593, and there is no evidence that Marlowe was acquainted with Southampton at all. Massey, however, argues confidently for Marlowe, on the ground that there was nobody else to whom the pointed. charge of supernatural dealing could apply. But there was another to whom the allusions apply more pointedly than to Marlowe, and that was George Chapman, a man less honoured now, but numbered in his own generation among the greatest of its poets. Chapman was a man of overpowering enthusiasm, ever eager in magnifying poetry, and advancing fervent claims to supernatural inspiration. In 1594 he published a poem called the "Shadow of Night," "Rich tapered sanctuary of the blest, And he cries: "All you possessed with indepressed spirits, No pen can anything eternal write That is not steeped in humour of the Night." It is not simply that night is the best season for study: the enthusiastic poet finds more active assistance than silence and freedom from interruption. When the avenues of sense are closed by sleep, his soul rises to the court of Skill (the mother of knowledge, who must be propitiated by drops of the soul like an heavenly familiar), and if he could only remember what he learns there, no secret would be hid from him. "Let soft sleep, Binding my senses lose my working soul, As regards the other feature in the rival poet, the proud full sail of his great verse, that applies with almost too literal exactness to the Alexandrines of Chapman's Homer, part of which appeared in 1596; and as for its being bound for the prize of Shakespeare's patron, both Pembroke and Southampton were included in the list of those honoured with dedicatory sonnets in a subsequent edition. Chapman's chief patron was Sir Francis Walsingham, whose daughter Sir Philip Sidney had married, and nothing could have been more natural than that the old man should introduce his favourite to the Countess of Pembroke or her son. But apart from Alexandrines and proved or probable connection with Southampton and Pembroke, I contend that the other reference to Chapman is too pointed to be mistaken; and though Chapman's name has not received due prominence in the manuals of our literature, no one who has read any of his poetry, and who knows his own lofty pretensions and the rank accorded him in his own. generation, will think that his "proud sail" has been unduly honoured by the affected jealousy and good-humoured banter of the "saucy bark" of Shakespeare. 293 CHAPTER VI. DRAMATISTS BEFORE SHAKESPEARE. 'A VERY natural question to ask, in beginning the study of the Elizabethan drama, is, What were the causes of that extraordinary outburst of creative genius? No satisfactory answer has yet been given to that question: perhaps none can be given. There the literature stands full grown; but when we are asked how it came there, we can do little more than point to the names of its creators, and say that their genius was equal to the task of producing it. We may, besides, interest ourselves in studying circumstances that may be presumed to have been favourable to its development, and may make a very good show in the way of general explanation. England had very recently passed through the crisis of the Reformation, and was still excited and exalted to an unusual pitch of energy by apprehensions of intestine plots and foreign invasion: the pulse of the country beat high with success and thirst for new enterprise. When men are unfortunate and despondent, they have no heart to go and look at the mimicry of action and passion : it is only when their enterprises succeed that they can go with free hearts and applaud the heroics of Tamburlaine or weep over the sorrows of Desdemona. The Elizabethans were prosperous in war and in commerce: they repelled the Spaniard, and brought home richly-laden argosies from east and west: they were strong, thriving, hopeful men, with nerves that could bear a good thrill of tragic horror, and sides that the most boisterous laughter was unable to shake too rudely. But one must have no small confidence in the power of |