by simple alteration of pronouns,
into the villain's own account of himself, the internal logic which
serves as a pretext disappears, and he becomes a mere monster. It is for
this reason that, as Hazlitt says, Massinger's villains--and he was
probably thinking especially of Overreach and Luke in 'A City
Madam'--appear like drunkards or madmen. His plays are apt to be a
continuous declamation, cut up into fragments, and assigned to the
different actors; and the essential unfitness of such a method to
dramatic requirements needs no elaborate demonstration. The villains
will have to denounce themselves, and will be ready to undergo
conversion at a moment's notice, in order to spout openly on behalf of
virtue as vigorously as they have spouted in transparent disguise on
behalf of vice.
There is another consequence of Massinger's romantic tendency, which is
more pleasing. The chivalrous ideal of morality involves a reverence for
women, which may be exaggerated or affected, but which has at least a
genuine element in it. The women on the earlier stage have comparatively
a bad time of it amongst their energetic companions. Shakespeare's women
are undoubtedly most admirable and lovable creatures; but they are
content to take a subordinate part, and their highest virtue generally
includes entire submission to the will of their lords and masters. Some,
indeed, have an abundant share of the masculine temperament, like
Cleopatra or Lady Macbeth; but then they are by no means model
characters. Iago's description of the model woman is a cynical version
of the true Shakespearian theory. Women's true sphere, according to him,
or according to the modern slang, is domestic life; and if circumstances
force a Cordelia, an Imogen, a Rosalind, or a Viola, to take a more
active share in life, they take good care to let us know that they have
a woman's heart under their man's doublet. The weaker characters in
Massinger give a higher place to women, and justify it by a sentiment of
chivalrous devotion. The excess, indeed, of such submissiveness is often
satirised. In the 'Roman Actor,' the 'Emperor of the East,' the 'Duke of
Milan,' the 'Picture,' and elsewhere, we have various phases of uxorious
weakness, which suggest a possible application to the Court of Charles
I. Elsewhere, as in the 'Maid of Honour' and the 'Bashful Lover,' we are
called upon to sympathise with manifestations of a highflown devotion to
feminine excellence. Thus, the ba
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