CONTENTS CHAPTER I. The Problem of Double Time Time as a matter of dramatic technique, 1. — Definition CHAPTER VI. Shakespeare's Treatment of Time Relation to predecessors, 91. — Love's Labor's Lost, 92 - 96.- Richard III, 98.— King John, 101. - - - Taming of the Shrew, 111. Much Ado About Nothing, Merry Wives of Windsor, 114. Troilus and Tempest, 128. ·Henry VIII, 132. — Double time introduced consciously, 91 136 - Jonson, 146. — Marston, 150. Heywood, 156. Dekker, 163. Webster, - CHAPTER I. THE PROBLEM OF DOUBLE TIME. The Elizabethan drama gains in significance when it is looked upon from the standpoint of its evolutionary development, rather than in the light shed by three or four great names. A study of the dramatic element of time opens an avenue through which a view of the drama of this period as an organic body may be obtained, since the plays, structurally considered, present features which reflect the spirit of the Elizabethan age-reliance upon the methods inherited from the miracle plays, an indifference to the dicta derived from the Latin drama, preference for complexity in subject-matter, confusion regarding different types of plays, and neglect of precision in general. During this period, the fundamental validity of an appeal to the imagination in dramatic art was more clearly demonstrated than ever before or since. Moreover, each dramatist, in the time-schemes of his plays, reveals his skill in construction; indeed, the degree of success with which he blends the timemovements of a major and a minor plot is a subtle test of his synthetic power. In the earlier plays, the manner of handling time displays their deficiency in design, and, in the later plays, shows how artificial and strained the drama became. Shakespeare's art can be more readily understood, and more properly evaluated, when it is seen in relation to the technique of his contemporaries. In a series of time-analyses Α of his plays there can be traced his advance toward freedom in experimentation and mastery of technique; and, in the light of the currently used methods of representing time, the genesis of the double-time movement, which has interested and puzzled Shakespearean students, becomes more apparent. If this kind of study contributes even slightly toward filling out our perspective upon an important period of literary history, or helps us, ever so little, to perceive more clearly the conditions of greatness in creation, it is obviously worth while. The dramatists who attempt to portray time in a realistic manner, or who tread in the path of the ancients by confining their plays to the compass of twenty-four hours, must find the material at their command somewhat limited. A story which should unfold many incidents, and show the whole range of many characters, if congested into one day, must seem unnatural and undignified. Certain motives requiring time for their development cannot be adequately treated in the 'regular' drama—the matter, for instance, of romantic love: young people do not usually court and marry in four hours after their first meeting, as Jonson has made young Knowell and Wellbred's sister do in Every Man in his Humour. Since the inciting events of an action, the long course of passion, and the dénouement, cannot be comprised in one day with the preservation of moral truth, the dramatist who would observe the unity of time is compelled to select a particular dramatic crisis, and, through that situation, to convey the experiences of time long past-a method which is well illustrated in some of Ibsen's plays. On the other hand, the dramatist who would show the great events of life in their normal time-se quence encounters a difficulty of another kind-that of disconnected action. A considerable gap in the action comes as a shock to the audience, and involves a certain diminution in interest and attention until the mind has readjusted itself to meet the change in the dramatic situation. The hold upon the imagination of the audience has to be gained anew. In The Winter's Tale, after the flight of sixteen years, the interest is transferred to Perdita and Florizel. That dramatist has great skill in technique who can so handle his plot that a long time shall intervene without obtruding itself upon the attention of the audience. In the hands of one who possesses such skill, an interval may be made to appear hardly perceptible at the point at which it is supposed to occur, and yet, when the exact circumstances have passed into the fringe of consciousness, may serve to account to the audience for the lapse of weeks. Various devices may be used to link the scenes directly preceding a gap with those directly following. One of the most effective is the presentation, in the first scene after the interval, of the accomplishment of some purpose previously announced. If, for instance, a Yorkshireman has expressed a determination to go to London the next month, we are not surprised to see him there in the next scene. Thus in Titus Andronicus (3. 2. 81-85), the day of Lavinia's rape is brought into close relation to the day of revenge by the words of her father: Lavinia, go with me: Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, 1 Compare the account of Henry VIII, for instance, in Chapter VI, P. 148. |