The two famous plays that were the results of Middleton's collaboration with Rowley have somewhat different characteristics. Rowley, a playwright used to rude and fantastic comedy, and the author of "All's Lost by Lust," a clumsy tragedy of revenge, wrote most of the comic scenes and had some share in the serious plots. In "The Fair Quarrel," the hesitation of Captain Ager to defend the honor of his mother unless convinced of her purity; and in "The Changeling," the entanglement of Beatrice with the loathed follower whom she has persuaded to murder her accepted suitor, offer situations novel and ingenious. In both plays, the opportunity for mere melodrama with sudden conversions of character is refused, and the series of startling situations made the basis for a study of human motive. It is this which gives "The Fair Quarrel," in spite of its absurdities, superiority over most of the tragicomedies of the time. In "The Changeling," one may easily imagine what havoc Fletcher would have made of the characterization in order to over-emphasize situations, sensational enough in themselves; but Middleton and Rowley followed the best tradition of Webster. The rash and pampered Beatrice retains our sympathies even in her degradation, and remains convincingly alive, whether in her incipient love for De Flores or her final cry for forgiveness. De Flores, clear-headed and well-motived, is the most powerful and individual of the post-Shakespearean villains. The comic relief supplied by the mad scenes spoils the tragic unity of the play. But, except in Shakespeare and Webster, the old combination of murder, revenge, sinful love, villany, madness, and ghosts had never been made so consistently the result of human motive and so effective in its appeal to our sympathies.
Massinger's dramatic career, ranking in productiveness with Shakespeare's or Fletcher's, extended from the time of Shakespeare's withdrawal from the theatre to within a few years of the Civil War. For ten years he was mainly occupied in collaborating with Fletcher for the king's men; and of the nineteen plays usually classed as his own, none were acted before 1622. His work, therefore, falls roughly into two periods, the first when he was the assistant of Fletcher, the second when he had succeeded Fletcher as the main reliance of the leading London company.
Of his work with Fletcher the tragedies have already been considered. In most of the plays of the collaboration, Fletcher's share is the more important, especially in the treatment of the dramatic crises. In plays, as "The Queen of Corinth" and "The Laws of Candy," where Fletcher's hand is least apparent, there is an excess of melodramatic ingenuity without the Fletcherian vivacity, Massinger's temperament reveals itself, however, from the first in the gravity of his style and the seriousness of his morality. From Fletcher he acquired his stage-craft and his attachment to the romantic drama of thrills and surprises, but his art was meanwhile developing a responsibility and purposes all its own.
Of the plays written without the aid of Fletcher, two, "A New Way to Pay Old Debts" and "The City Madam," are domestic comedies of manners. The others are romantic dramas which can be classified only with some difficulty as comedies, tragicomedies, and tragedies. A number of the tragicomedies are to be distinguished from the tragedies only by the happy endings and the absence of bloodshed. Nor are these always decisive. Of the tragedies, "Believe as You List" and "The Virgin Martyr" result in victory as well as death, and in the tragicomedy, "The Maid of Honor," suitors worthy and unworthy are rejected and the vindicated heroine enters a nunnery. The tragedies in the main deal with more serious and important actions and rely less on intrigue than the tragicomedies; but it may be said of Massinger, with even more truth than of Fletcher, that he dealt with romantic stories abounding in tragic possibilities, usually resulting in happy endings, but occasionally taking a loftier tone and a fatal conclusion.
The plays as a whole reveal a remarkable variety of stories and a treatment of sources fully as free and ingenious as Fletcher's and often contriving a political as well as a moral lesson. Honor and religion play conspicuous parts as in contemporary Spanish drama, to which Massinger apparently owed a considerable debt; although in only one instance, "The Renegade," has direct indebtedness to a Spanish play been traced. The earlier drama is also freely drawn upon. At this date it was in fact almost impossible to compose a play without traversing motives and incidents that were familiar on the stage; and Massinger borrowed from many, from Shakespeare as freely as from Fletcher, and from minor dramatists as well. The story of the usurper Sebastian, told in "The Battle of Alcazar," is retold in "Believe as You List"; and the poisoning by kissing the painted corpse, related in "The Second Maiden's Tragedy," reappears in his "Duke of Milan." In spite of their variety and ingenuity, his plays are very like others of the period. There are the same court and courtiers, general, favorite, rival lovers, rival mistresses, and the same trials of chastity or intrigues of lust and malice.
Yet the independence of Massinger's invention and the truth of his conceptions of human motive are by no means small. In "The Bashful Lover" there is a presentation of idealizing and self-sacrificing love, far surpassing the courtly compliments of Fletcher and rivaling the magnanimity of Browning's conceptions. In such themes, just removed from the exaltation and the horror thought necessary for tragedy, yet serious and exalted above the average of comedy, Massinger is at his best. An outline of his "Maid of Honor" may serve to illustrate both the independence of his imaginative conceptions and the careful integration of his structure.
Act i opens at the court of Roberto, King of Sicily, who, after much eloquent solicitation, permits his natural brother Bertoldo to lead an expedition against Gonzaga, a knight of Malta, who is relieving Sienna, captured by Ferdinand, Duke of Urbin, in his effort to win the duchess by force. Camiola, the maid of honor, after some buffoonery on the part of Sylli, a Malvolio-like wooer, has a parting interview with Bertoldo and confesses that his vow as a knight of Malta is the only bar to her acceptance of his offers of marriage. In act ii, after some further buffoonery by Sylli, who serves throughout as a comic contrast to Camiola's other suitors, Fulgentio, the King's minion, solicits Camiola, but is tartly repulsed, and threatens to slander her. The scene changes to Sienna, the camp of Gonzaga, and then to the citadel held by Ferdinand. Bertoldo and his followers are defeated and made prisoners, Gonzaga tearing the cross from Bertoldo's breast. In act iii all the prisoners are released by ransom, except Bertoldo, who thereupon bewails the falseness of his brother the King. The scene changing to Sicily, Adorni, a faithful follower of Camiola's father, soliloquizes on his love for her and his intention to take vengeance on Fulgentio. Later he appears wounded before Camiola and presents the minion's recantation, but is blamed by her for his presumption in assuming a task proper only for her lover. Upon the arrival of news of Bertoldo's plight, Camiola, who is as energetic as loyal, decides to sacrifice her fortune to pay her lover's ransom, and summons Adorni to act as her agent in freeing Bertoldo. Adorni dutifully undertakes the mission that promises to ruin his hopes. In act iv the Duchess Aurelia arrives at Sienna and Ferdinand surrenders. Bertoldo in prison reads Seneca, soliloquizes on suicide, falls on the ground, and threatens to rend the bowels of the earth, quite in Kydian fashion. Adorni enters, and Bertoldo, upon hearing of Camiola's sacrifice, blesses her name and promises marriage. It is now Adorni's turn to soliloquize on suicide. Bertoldo is brought before Aurelia, who, suddenly enamored, offers him herself and duchy. After some resistance he yields. Adorni now begins to hope. In Sicily Camiola has convinced the King of Fulgentio's worthlessness. In act v Camiola receives from Adorni the news of Bertoldo's fickleness, but she still scorns Adorni and resolves to seek redress from the King. Accordingly, at the marriage of Bertoldo and Aurelia, she breaks in, states her case with eloquence and temper, and appeals to the King. Aurelia suddenly feels all her love quenched, and Bertoldo pleads for pity. All await the fulfillment of Camiola's promise that she will declare whom she will marry, and are astonished when Father Paula announces that she has decided to become the bride of the church. Before taking the veil, she obtains Fulgentio's pardon, gives one half of her wealth to the faithful Adorni, and commands Bertoldo to resume the cross of Malta.
In his six tragedies there is less of romantic love and more of the blacker passions. "The Unnatural Combat," "The Duke of Milan," "The Fatal Dowry" (in collaboration with Field), and "The Roman Actor" deal with lust and revenge in the quantity and quality long prescribed. In the last named, however, Massinger broke away from the conventional treatment and made his protagonist neither the cruel tyrant nor the lustful queen, but a dignified and noble representative of the actor's profession, and took the opportunity of effectively expanding the old device of a play within a play. The other two tragedies present still more originality of conception and treatment: "Believe As You List," dealing with the fortune of a rightful claimant to the crown, and "The Virgin Martyr," perhaps a revision of an early play by Dekker, returning to the old material of the Miracles, the story of a martyrdom that converts the persecutors. In each of these tragedies, as in "The Maid of Honor," a number of stories are organized into a single action, introduced by admirable exposition, and usually carried through with direct and logical progress. In the treatment of catastrophe, always heightened, prolonged, and sometimes full of surprise after Fletcher's fashion, Massinger is less competent. Massinger could not keep to the inevitable development of character as did Shakespeare, nor could he sacrifice character to situation as light-heartedly as did Fletcher. In consequence he falls between two stools; and his fifth act is usually clumsy and unconvincing.
Massinger's art was not only less reckless than Fletcher's; it was linked to a serious moral view of human affairs. He always worked under a sense of responsibility both as a dramatic artist and as a preacher of political and personal morality. Neither the heedlessness of Fletcher nor the perversion of Ford is discoverable in his plays. Bad and good are clearly differentiated, despite the improbabilities of the romantic vicissitudes; and poetic justice is administered with decision. Following his venturesome and nimble master, he pursues his pathway gravely, judicially, somewhat heavily. His careful art and sincere morality lack the leaven of dramatic genius. The orator and the rhetorician are always elbowing the dramatist off the scene. His style, never splendid, never excessively figurative, is always contained and clear. At its best in sustained declamation, it often descends to a tone approaching prose and rarely rises to the more stirring or impelling emotions. His abundant inventiveness also fails him in the great crises of passion. Again and again when the heroine is at bay, or the hero within the jaws of ruin, Massinger resorts to oratory. As in "The Maid of Honor," eloquence is the deus ex machina which solves the difficulties of the plot. In consequence, the characterization, though involving subtle and penetrating conceptions of human nature, and often logical and consistent, rarely results in living beings. An exception must be made of some of his men, whose virility and dignity are akin to his own temper and can be made real through his favorite rhetorical means. The women, with few exceptions, of whom Camiola is chief, are, for reverse reasons, bad failures. Chastity cannot be revealed by an oratorical appeal, and the evil women only grow impossible when they add rhetoric to lust.