The date of composition for All's Well That Ends Well is uncertain. Our earliest copy of the play appears in the Folio of 1623, seven years after Shakespeare's death, so other clues must be sought in order to date the work. The most common datin places it between 1601 and 1606, grouping it with Troilus and Cressida and Measure for Measure in what are typically referred to as Shakespeare's problem comedies. All three share a dark, bitter wit and an unpleasant view of human relation s that contrasts sharply with earlier, sunnier comedies like Twelfth Night and As You Like It. The darker sensibility is embodied, this theory argues, in the coarse pragmatism surrounding sexual intercourse in All's Well and the obvi ous difficulties of rejoicing about a "happy ending" that unites such an ill-suited couple as Helena and Bertram.
An alternative dating, held by a minority of critics, places the play's writing in 1598 or earlier, and associates it with a "lost play" called Love's Labour Won, which is listed in a 1598 catalogue of Shakespeare's plays but has never been seen or mentioned elsewhere. All's Well, it is argued, matches the title of this work admirably--Helena "labours" to gain her love, and wins. Supporters of this dating claim that All's Well is likely an edited or reworked version that Shakespeare published at a later date.
In either case, the source for the story is more obvious--it is derived, more or less directly, from the ninth story of the third day of Boccaccio'sDecameron, a classic of early Renaissance literature written between 1348 and 1358. The work, and the story in question, were translated into English in the mid-16th century by William Painter as The Palace of Pleasure, and it was this version that Shakespeare probably drew upon. Typically, Shakespeare altered and reshaped the original text to create a richer story, adding characters like Lafew, the Countess, and Parolles while keeping essential elements like the bed-trick and the war in Florence in place.
The critical reception of All's Well has always been mixed, with both critics and audiences often sharing the displeasure with Helena's choice of Bertram. Its reputation has revived significantly in recent years, but it remains an unpopular and little-performed play.
All's Well That Ends Well is often described as a "dark" or "problem" play, distinguished from the earlier, more cheerful comedies by unpleasant characters and a sophisticated bitterness toward human relations, all capped off with a "happy ending" that is nothing of the sort. In part, these criticisms are unfair. The characters in general are a pleasant group, distinguished either by the wisdom of experience (the King of France, Lafew, the Countess) or by basic decency and good intentions (Diana, the First Lord and Second Lord Dumaine). The only truly unsympathetic figure in the supporting cast is Parolles, who is less a villain than a comically value- free rogue. The ending, while unsatisfactory to our sensibilities, seems to please the characters, and the play is far from being a tragedy.
There are unpleasant themes percolating amid the comedy, however. Specifically, the gloom of decay and old age hangs heavily over the older characters, none of whom seem to have long to live. At the same time, for a play ostensibly concerned with romance, All's Well takes a harshly cynical view of sexual love. We expect coarse humor from characters like the Clown, who exist to provide smutty comic relief, and cynics like Parolles, but even the romantic heroine, Helena, indulges in sexual banter, and has a low opinion of male sexual behavior in general. This view is justified, the play suggests, since the successful central deception, the bedroom switch that enables Helena to become pregnant by her husband, Bertram, and thus force him to stay by her side, hinges on the fact that in the dark, all women are alike to men.
Just as significant in analyzing the unpleasant effect of the play on the reader/audience are the facts of the central "romance," if we can call it that. Shakespearean audiences have to accept great women picking men who are unworthy of them (Portia and the fortune-hunter Bassanio in The Merchant of Venice; Hero and the feckless Claudio in Much Ado About Nothing, and many others), but it is extremely difficult to reconcile oneself to a romantic lead as odious as Bertram, who abandons Helena, tries to seduce an innocent woman, and only turns repentant in the play's final scene. We may be meant to perceive him as salvageable in some way, and to expect that he will mature in marriage, but the play gives us only a few hints of this, preferring to focus on his obvious flaws.
The resourceful Helena, meanwhile, loved by everyone (save for Bertram), cuts a far more appealing figure. However, her relentless pursuit of a man who is obviously unworthy of her has the unfortunate effect of diminishing her appeal as the play goes on. Nothing stands in Helena's way as she determinedly pursues the man she loves, and while we may admire her, by the time she appears to triumphantly show Bertram how he has been tricked, we no longer like her as much as we did--and our opinion of her good taste, after so long watching her chase a cad, is all but gone. The final scene demands that we celebrate the triumph of love--but it seems less a fariy-tale ending than a cynically contrived close to a cynical comedy, in which true love takes a back seat to manipulation.
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