THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT

Of the two tragic stories in Lear, the source from which Shakespeare derived the subordinate one, that of Gloucester, is well known. The extract from Sidney's Arcadia, containing the story of the Paphlagonian unkind king,' will be found on p. 386; it was pointed out, as similar to Gloucester's, by our countrywoman, Mrs LENNOX, in 1754, and I know of only one commentator, HUNTER (see IV, vi, 66), who has questioned, since then, the general belief that it was the original of Shakespeare's secondary plot. There is some doubt, however, as to the source from which the main plot of Lear is directly derived. The story itself, in its broad outlines of doting paternal kindness repaid with filial ingratitude, and paternal harshness requited with devoted love, is as old as almost any story in English literature. It is told by Geoffrey of Monmouth in his Historia Britonum, by Layamon in his Brut, by Robert of Gloucester, by Fabyan in his Chronicle, by Spenser in his Faery Queene, by Holinshed, by Camden, and it is found in the Mirour for Magistrates, the Gesta Romanorum, in Warner's Albion's England, and, I dare say, elsewhere. It is not, however, likely that Shakespeare went to any of the older of these authorities for his materials; we know how fond he was of Holinshed, and unless there were a drama ready to his hand to be remodelled, we should look to Holinshed; and there, indeed, some of the best of modern editors do find the immediate source of Shakespeare's Lear. But I am afraid I cannot agree with them. Holinshed, I think, furnished merely the indirect source of Lear. I think we can approach one step nearer and discern the direct source in the ante-Shakespearian drama of the Chronicle History of King Leir, which HALLIWELL, following MALONE, says was dramatized as early as 1593 or 1594, and is probably the same that Edward White entered in the Stationers' Registers in the latter of these years, and which reappeared as the 'tragecall historie' printed by Simon Stafford in 1605. The author of this old comedy of King Leir undoubtedly drew from the old chroniclers, probably Holinshed; and Shakespeare, I think, drew from him. But what false impressions are conveyed in the phrases which we have to use to express the process whereby Shakespeare converted the stocks and stones of the old dramas and chronicles into living, breathing men and women! We say he drew his original' from this source, or he found his materials' in that source. But how much did he 'draw,' or what did he 'find'? Granting that he drew from Holinshed, or from the old comedy, or whence you please, where did he find Lear's madness, or the pudder of the elements, or the inspired babblings of the Fool? Of whatsoever makes his tragedies sublime and heaven-high above all other human compositions,—of that we find never a trace. And this minds me to say that of all departments of Shakespearian study none seems to me more profitless than this search for the sources whence Shakespeare gathered his dramas; the distance is always immeasurable between the hint and the fulfilment; what to our purblind eyes is a bare, naked rock becomes, when gilded by Shakespeare's heavenly alchemy, encrusted thick all over with jewels. When, after reading one of his tragedies, we turn to what we are pleased to call the original of his plot,' I am reminded of those glittering gems, of which Heine speaks, that we see at night in lovely gardens, and think must have been left there by kings' children at play, but when we look for these jewels by day we see only wretched little worms which crawl painfully away, and which the foot forbears to crush only out of strange pity.

If we must find an original for Lear, I think it is in the old drama, and not in Holinshed; and I mean by this, that, in reading this old drama, every now and then there comes across us an incident, or a line, or a phrase, that reminds us of Shakespeare's Lear, and that this cannot be said of Holinshed's story. For instance, in Leir we find a faithful courtier who defends Cordella to her father, and the old king replies, Urge this no more, and if thou love thy life.' And this same courtier afterwards accompanies the old king in his exile as his faithful companion and servant. Again, in the trial-scene Cordella murmurs aside her abhorrence at the hypoc risy of her sisters' asseverations of affection. Again, Leir alludes to Gonorill's young bones.' Again, Perillus says of Leir, But he the myrrour of mild patience, Puts up 'all wrongs and never gives reply.' Shakespeare's Lear says: No I will be the 'pattern of all patience, I will say nothing.' Again, when Leir recognises Cordella after their estrangement he kneels to her. But it is needless to multiply instances. I have given on p. 393 et seq. an abstract of the old drama, much too long and tiresome to be reprinted entire, and the reader can judge for himself, if he take any interest in a question which is, I repeat, to me a barren one. No one, I think, has done fuller justice to the old drama, which, by the way, CAPELL called a silly old play,' than CAMpbell, the poet, who, in his Remarks on Shakespeare's Lear, says: 'The elder tragedy of 'King Leir is simple and touching. There is one entire scene in it, the meeting of Cordelia with her father in a lonely forest, which, with Shakespeare's Lear in my 'memory and heart, I could scarcely read with dry eyes. This Leir is a pleasing 'tragedy, and, though it precedes our poet's Lear, is not its prototype, and its mild 'merits only show us the wide expanse of difference between respectable talent and 'commanding inspiration. The two Lears have nothing in common but their aged 'weakness, their general goodness of heart, their royal rank, and their misfortunes. The ante-Shakespearian Lear is a patient, simple old man, who bears his sorrows very meekly, till Cordelia arrives with her husband, the King of France, and his 'victorious army, and restores her father to the throne of Britain. . . . In the old 'play, Leir has a friend Perillus, who moves our interest, though not so deeply as Kent in the later and grander drama. But, independently of Shakespeare's having 'created a new Lear, he has sublimated the old tragedy into a new one by an entire 'originality in the spiritual portraiture of its personages. . . . In fine, wherever Shake'speare works on old materials you will find him not wiping dusted gold, but extract'ing gold from dust, where none but himself could have made the golden extraction.'

The story of Leir, as told by HOLINSHED (The second Booke of the historie of England, chaps. v, vi, ed. 1574) is as follows:

'Leir the sonne of Baldud, was admitted ruler ouer the Britaines, in the yeere of the world 3105, at what time Ioas raigned as yet in Iuda. This Leir was a prince *of right noble demeanor, gouerning his land and subiects in great wealth. He made 'the towne of Caerlier nowe called Leicester, which standeth vpon the riuer of Sore. It is written that he had by his wife three daughters without other issue, whose 'names were Gonorilla, Regan, and Cordeilla, which daughters he greatly loued, but 'specially Cordeilla the yoongest farre aboue the two elder. When this Leir therefore 'was come to great yeeres, & began to waxe vnweldie through age, he thought to • vnderstand the affections of his daughters towards him, and preferre hir whome he best loued, to the succession ouer the kingdome. Whervpon he first asked 'Gonorilla the eldest, how well shee loued him: who calling hir gods to record, 'protested, that she loued him more than hir owne life, which by right and reason

'shoulde be most deere vnto hir. With which answer the father being well pleased, ' turned to the second, and demanded of hir how well she loued him: who answered (confirming hir saiengs with great othes) that she loued him more than toung could 'expresse, and farre aboue all other creatures of the world.

Then called he his yoongest daughter Cordeilla before him, and asked of hir what 'account she made of him: vnto whome she made this answer as followeth: Know'ing the great loue and fatherlie zeale that you haue always borne towards me, (for 'the which I maie not answere you otherwise than I thinke, and as my conscience leadeth me) I protest vnto you, that I haue loued you euer, and will continuallie (while I liue) loue you as my naturall father. And if you would more vnderstand of the loue that I beare you, assertaine your selfe, that so much as you haue, so 'much you are worth, and so much I loue you, and no more. The father being 'nothing content with this answer, married his two eldest daughters, the one vnto Henninus, the Duke of Cornewal, and the other vnto Maglanus, the Duke of 'Albania, betwixt whome he willed and ordeined that his land should be deuided ' after his death, and the one halfe thereof immediatelie should be assigned to them in hand: but for the third daughter Cordeilla he reserued nothing.

'Neuertheles it fortuned that one of the princes of Gallia (which now is called France) whose name was Aganippus, hearing of the beautie, womanhood, and good 'conditions of the said Cordeilla, desired to haue hir in mariage, and sent ouer to 'hir father, requiring that he mighte haue hir to wife: to whome answere was made, that he might haue his daughter, but as for anie dower he could haue none, for all was promised and assured to hir other sisters alreadie. Aganippus notwith'standing this answer of deniall to receiue anie thing by way of dower with Cordeilla, tooke hir to wife, onlie moued thereto (I saie) for respect of hir person and ' amiable vertues. This Aganippus was one of the twelue kings that ruled Gallia in 'those daies, as in the Brittish historie it is recorded. But to proceed.

After that Leir was fallen into age, the two dukes that had married his two 'eldest daughters, thinking long yer the gouernment of the land did come to their 'hands, arose against him in armour, and reft from him the gouernance of the 'land, vpon conditions to be continued for terme of life: by the which he was put 'to his portion, that is, to liue after a rate assigned to him for the maintenance of his 'estate, which in processe of time was diminished as well by Maglanus as by Hen'ninus. But the greatest griefe that Leir tooke, was to see the vnkindnesse of his ' daughters, which seemed to thinke that all was too much which their father had, the same being neuer so little: in so much, that going from the one to the other, he\ 'was brought to that miserie, that scarslie they would allow him one seruaunt to waite vpon him.

In the end, such was the vnkindnesse, or (as I maie saie) the vnnaturalnesse 'which he found in his two daughters, notwithstanding their faire and pleasant words vttered in time past, that being constreined of necessitie, he fled the land, and 'sailed into Gallia, there to seeke some comfort of his youngest daughter Cordeilla 'whom before time he hated. The ladie Cordeilla hearing that he was arriued in 'poore estate, she first sent to him priuilie a certeine summe of monie to apparell himselfe withall, and to reteine a certein number of seruants that might attende vpon him in honorable wise, as apperteined to the estate which he had borne: and then so accompanied, she appointed him to come to the court, which he did, and was so ioifullie, honorablie, and louinglie receiued, both by his sonne in law Aganippus, and also by his daughter Cordeilla, that his hart was greatlie com

'forted: for he was no lesse honored, than if he had beene king of the whole coun'trie himselfe.

Now when he had informed his son in law and his daughter in what sort he had 'beene vsed by his other daughters, Aganippus caused a mightie armie to be put in 'readinesse, and likewise a greate nauie of ships to be rigged, to passe ouer into 'Britaine with Leir his father in law, to see him againe restored to his kingdome. It was accorded, that Cordeilla should also go with him to take possession of the land, the which he promised to leaue vnto hir, as the rightfull inheritour after his 'decesse, notwithstanding any former grant made to hir sisters or to their husbands ' in anie maner of wise.

Herevpon, when this armie and nauie of ships were readie, Leir and his daugh'ter Cordeilla with hir husband tooke the sea, and arriuing in Britaine, fought with 'their enimies, and discomfited them in battell, in the which Maglanus and Henninus 'were slaine: and then was Leir restored to his kingdome, which he ruled after this 'by the space of two yeeres, and then died, fortie yeeres after he first began to reigne. "His bodie was buried at Leicester in a vaut vnder the chanell of the riuer of Sore beneath the towne.

'Cordeilla the yoongest daughter of Leir was admitted Q. and supreme gouernesse ' of Britaine, in the yeere of the world 3155, before the bylding of Rome 54, Uzia was then reigning in Juda, and Jeroboam ouer Israell. This Cordeilla after hir 'father's deceasse ruled the land of Britaine right worthilie during the space of fiue 'yeeres, in which meane time hir husband died, and then about the end of those 'fiue yeeres, hir two nephewes Margan and Cunedag, sonnes to hir aforesaid sisters, 'disdaining to be vnder the gouernment of a woman, leuied warre against hir, and "destroied a great part of the land, and finallie tooke hir prisoner, and laid hir fast in "ward, wherewith she tooke suche griefe, being a woman of a manlie courage, and despairing to recouer libertie, there she slue hirselfe.'

66

The following extract from SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S Arcadia (lib. ii, pp. 133-138, ed. 1598, as quoted in the Clarendon ed.) contains the story out of which Shakespeare moulded Gloucester's tragic fate. It is called, in ed. 1590, 'The pitifull state, and 'story of the Paphlagonian vnkinde king, and his kind sonne, first related by the son, 'then by the blind father':

It was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) 'verie cold, and as then sodainlie growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that 'neuer any winter (I thinke) brought forth a fowler child: so that the Princes were 'euen copelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke 'some shrowding place which a certain hollow rocke offering vnto them, they made 'it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them, 'being hid within that rude canapie, held a straunge and pitifull disputation, which 'made them step out, yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they per'ceiued an aged man, and a young, scarcelie come to the age of a man, both poorely 'arrayed, extreamely weather-beaten; the olde man blind, the young man leading him and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appeare a kind of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to leade me to that which should end my griefe, and thy trouble, let me now intreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing

doth become me but miserie: feare not the daunger of my blind steps, I cannot 'fall worse then I am: and do not I pray thee, do not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchednesse: but flie, flie from this region only worthie of me. 'Deare father (answered he) do not take away from me the only remnant of my 'happinesse: while I haue power to do you seruice, I am not whollie miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his 'heart) how euill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse 'vpbraid my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like pur'pose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the 'Princes to go out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered 'he with a good grace, and made the more agreeable by a certaine noble kind of 'piteousnesse) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie, so well here 'knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. Indeed our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pitie, yet nothing is more dan'gerous vnto vs, then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pitie; but your 'presence promiseth that crueltie shall not ouer-runne hate: and if it did, in truth 'our state is sunke below the degree of feare.

This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-hearted vngratefulnesse of a sonne of his, depriued, not 'onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature graunts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, and by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bene driuen to such griefe, as euen 'now he would haue had me to haue led him to the top of this rocke, thence to cast himselfe headlong to death: and so would haue made me, who receiued my life of him, to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen, said he, if ' either of you haue a father, and feele what dutifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes 'heart, let me intreat you to conueigh this afflicted Prince to some place of rest and 'securitie: amongst your worthie acts it shall be none of the least, that a king of such 'might and fame, & so vniustlie oppressed, is in any sort by you relieued.

'But before they could make him answere, his father beganne to speake. Ah my 'sonne, said he, how euill an Historian are you, that leaue out the chiefe knot of all 'the discourse? my wickednesse, my wickednesse: and if thou doest it to spare my 'eares, (the only sense now left me proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou doest 'mistake me and I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp 'his blind eyes, as if he would hunt for light) and wish my selfe in worse case then I do wish my selfe, which is as euill as may be, if I speake vntrulie, that nothing 'is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know 'you Gentlemen (to whom from my heart I wish that it may not proue some ominous 'foretoken of misfortune to haue met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoeuer my 'son (ô God, that truth binds me to reproch him with the name of my son) hath said 'is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawfull mar'iage, of a mother fit to beare royall children, this sonne (such a one as partly you 'see, and better shall know by my short declaration) and so enioyed the expectations ' in the world of him, till he was growne to iustifie their expectations (so as I needed 'enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue another ones-selfe after 'me) I was caried by a bastard sonne of mine (if at least I be bound to beleeue the 'words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, 'lastlie to destroy, or to do my best to destroy this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vnde. 'seruing destruction. What wayes he vsed to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I