CHAPTER V
THE AGE OF ELIZABETH
TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS
_The thick line indicates the period of active literary production._
1560 1570 1580 1590 1600 1610 1620 1630 1640 | | | | | | | | | Spenser |........|.. ║[83]| | ║ | | | | | (1552–99) | | ║ ===================║ | | | | | | ║ | | |║[84] | | | |║ | Drayton | ║......|........|........|║===================================║ | (1563–1631) | | | | | | | | | | | ║ | | ║ | | | |║ | Donne | | ║ ....|........|.║==================================║ | (1573–1631) | | | | | | | | | | ║ | | ║[85]| ║ | | | | | Marlowe | ║......|........|...║========║ | | | | | (1564–93) | | | | | | | | | | ║ | | | ║[86] | | ║ | | | Shakespeare | ║......|........|........|.║===================║ | | | (1564–1616) | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Jonson | | ║ | | ║[87] | | | | ║ | (1573–1637) | | ║....|........|..║=====================================║ | | | | ║ |║[88] ║ | | | | | Hooker |........|........|...║=====║=====║ | | | | | (1553–1600) | | | | | | | | | |║ | | | ║[89] | | | ║ | | Bacon |║.......|........|........|...║==========================║ | | (1561–1626) | | | | | | | | | | | ║ | | | | |║[90] | ║ | Burton | | ║.....|........|........|........|........|║==============║ | (1577–1640) | | | | | | | | |
THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1550–1630)
This chapter introduces the reign of Elizabeth, sees it reach its climax and conclusion, and then witnesses the literary decline under the first of the Stuarts. The dominating features of the period can be conveniently summarized under two heads.
=1. Settlement.= Both in politics and religion the English nation was attaining to a state of stability. Dynastic problems, though they were troublesome, were not sufficient to cause serious trouble; and the union of the Crowns finally set at rest the ancient quarrel between Scotland and England. In religion the same general features were apparent--a general subsidence into quiescence, with minor disturbances at regular intervals. The settlement was all for the good of literature.
=2. Expansion.= In our history this is perhaps the most remarkable epoch for the expansion of both mental and geographical horizons. New knowledge was pouring in from the East, and new worlds were opening in the West. The great voyagers, whose exploits were chronicled in the immortal pages of =Hakluyt (1553–1616)=, brought home both material and intellectual treasures from beyond the “still-vexed Bermoothes,” as Shakespeare called them. It is unnecessary to enlarge upon the important effects which these revolutionary discoveries produced in literature.
LITERARY FEATURES OF THE AGE
=1. The New Classicism.= By the time of Elizabeth the Renaissance, as it was called, had made itself strongly felt in England. In
## particular, there was an ardent revival in the study of Greek, which
brought a dazzling light into many dark places of the intellect. The new passion for classical learning, in itself a rich and worthy enthusiasm, became quite a danger to the language. In all branches of literature Greek and Latin usages began to force themselves upon English, with results not wholly beneficial. It said much for the native sturdiness of English that, after a brief and vexed period of transition, it threw off the worst effects of this deadening pressure. English did not emerge unscathed from the contest. But, applied to this slight extent, the new classical influences were a great benefit: they tempered and polished the earlier rudeness of English literature.
=2. Abundance of Output.= After the lean years of the preceding epoch the prodigal issue of the Elizabethan age is almost embarrassing. As we have pointed out, the historical situation encouraged a healthy production. The interest shown in literary subjects is quite amazing to a more chastened generation. Pamphlets and treatises were freely written; much abuse, often of a personal and scurrilous character, was indulged in; and literary questions became almost of national importance. To a great extent the controversies of the day were puerile enough, but at least they indicated a lively interest in the literature of the period.
=3. The New Romanticism.= The romantic quest is for the remote, the wonderful, and the beautiful. All these desires were abundantly fed during the Elizabethan age, which is our first and greatest romantic epoch. On the one hand, there was the revolt against the past, whose grasp was too feeble to hold in restraint the lusty youth of the Elizabethan age; on the other, there was a daring and resolute spirit of adventure in literary as well as in other regions; and, most important of all, there was an unmistakable buoyancy and freshness in the strong wind of the spirit. It was the ardent youth of English literature, and the achievement was worthy of it.
=4. The Drama.= The bold and critical attitude of the time was in keeping with the dramatic instinct, which is analytic and observant. Hence, after the long period of incubation detailed in the last chapter, the drama made a swift and wonderful leap into maturity. Yet it had still many early difficulties to overcome. The actors themselves were at variance, so much so that outrageous brawls were frequent. On more than one occasion between 1590 and 1593 the theaters were closed owing to disturbances caused by the actors. In 1594 the problem was solved by the licensing of two troupes of players, the Lord Chamberlain’s (among whom was Shakespeare) and the Lord Admiral’s. Another early difficulty the drama had to face was its fondness for taking part in the quarrels of the time--for example, in the burning “Marprelate” controversy. Owing to this meddling the theaters were closed in 1589. Already, also, a considerable amount of Puritanical opposition was declaring itself. The most important anti-dramatic book of the day was Gosson’s virulent _School of Abuse_ (1579), to which Sidney replied with his _Apologie for Poetrie_ (about 1580).
In spite of such early difficulties, the drama reached the splendid consummation of Shakespeare’s art; but before the period closed decline was apparent.
=5. Poetry.= Though the poetical production was not quite equal to the dramatic, it was nevertheless of great and original beauty. As can be observed from the disputes of the time, the passion for poetry was absorbing, and the outcome of it was equal to expectation.
=6. Prose.= For the first time prose rises to a position of first-rate importance. The dead weight of the Latin tradition was passing away; English prose was acquiring a tradition and a universal application; and so the rapid development was almost inevitable.
=7. Scottish Literature.= A curious minor feature of the age was the disappearance of Scottish literature, after its brief but remarkable appearance in the previous age. At this point it took to ground, and did not reappear till late in the eighteenth century.
EDMUND SPENSER (1552–99)
=1. His Life.= From a passage in one of his sonnets it seems clear that Spenser was born in 1552; and from another passage, in his _Prothalamion_, we can deduce that he was born in London. His parentage is unknown; but, though Spenser claimed kinship with the noble branch of the Spenser family, it is fairly certain that he was a member of some northern plebeian branch. He was educated at the Merchant Taylors’ School (just founded in 1560) and at Cambridge. He left Cambridge in 1576, and for a few years his movements are unknown, though he probably spent the time in the North of England. He comes into view in London during the year 1579 as a member of the famous literary circle surrounding Sir Philip Sidney and his uncle the Earl of Leicester. Sidney patronized Spenser, introducing him to the Queen and encouraging him in his imitation of the classical meters. In 1580 Sidney’s patronage bore fruit, for Spenser was appointed secretary to Lord Grey de Wilton, who had just been appointed Lord-Deputy of Ireland.
In Ireland Spenser remained for eighteen years, serving the English government in more than one capacity, and seeing his share of the rebellion, outrage, and misery that afflicted the unhappy land. In the end his services were requited by the grant of Kilcolman Castle, near Limerick, and an estate of three thousand acres. In 1589 he visited London to publish the first three books of _The Faerie Queene_. After remaining in London for nearly two years he returned to Ireland; married an Irishwoman (1591); revisited London in 1596, bringing a second instalment of his great work; and once more returned to Kilcolman, which was ultimately burnt down (1598) during one of the sporadic rebellions that tormented the country. One of his children perished in the fire. A ruined and disappointed man, he repaired to London, where in the next year he died, “for lack of bread,” according to the statement of Ben Jonson.
=2. His Minor Poems.= The first of the poems that have descended to us is _The Shepherd’s Calendar_ (1579). The title, adopted from a popular compilation of the day, suggests the contents: a series of twelve eclogues, one for each month of the year. Each eclogue, as is common with the species, is in dialogue form, in which the stock pastoral characters, such as Cuddie, Colin Clout, and Perigot, take part. The pieces, though they are of no great poetical merit, served as excellent poetical exercises, for they range widely in meter, contain much skillful alliteration, and juggle with the conventional phrases of the pastoral.
A volume of miscellaneous poems, including _The Ruins of Time_, _The Tears of the Muses_, _Mother Hubberd’s Tale_, and _The Ruins of Rome_, appeared in 1591; in 1595 he published his _Amoretti_, a series of eighty-eight sonnets celebrating the progress of his love; _Epithalamion_, a magnificent ode, rapturously jubilant, written in honor of his marriage; and _Colin Clouts Come Home Againe_, somewhat wordy, but containing some interesting personal details. In 1596 appeared his _Four Hymns_ and _Prothalamion_, the latter not so fine as the great ode of the previous year.
Spenser’s shorter poems illustrate his lyrical ability, which is moderate in quality. His style is too diffuse and ornate to be intensely passionate; but, especially in the odes, he can build up sonorous and commanding measures which by their weight and splendor delight both mind and ear. To a lesser extent, as in _Mother Hubberd’s Tale_, the shorter poems afford him scope for his satirical bent, which can be sharp and censorious.
We quote from the _Epithalamion_, which stands at the summit of English odes:
Open the temple gates unto my love, Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the posts adorn as doth behove, And all the pillars deck with girlonds trim, For to receive this Saint with honour due, That cometh unto you. With trembling steps, and humble reverence, She cometh in, before the Almighty’s view; Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience, When so ye come into these holy places, And humble your proud faces. Bring her up to the high altar, that she may The sacred ceremonies there partake, The which do endless matrimony make; And let the roaring organs loudly play The praises of the Lord in lively notes; The whiles, with hollow throats, The choristers the joyous anthem sing, That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring.
=3. Prose.= In addition to his letters, which are often interesting and informative, Spenser left one longish prose work, a kind of State paper done in the form of a dialogue. Called _A View of the Present State of Ireland_ (1594), it gives Spenser’s views on the settlement of the Irish question. His opinions are exceeding hostile to the Irish, and his methods, if put in force, would amount to pure terrorism. The style of the pamphlet is quite undistinguished.
=4. The Faerie Queene.= In spite of the variety and beauty of his shorter poems, _The Faerie Queene_ is by far the most important of Spenser’s works.
(_a_) _Dates of Composition._ The work appeared in instalments. In 1589 Spenser crossed to London and published the first three books; in 1596 the second three followed; and after his death two cantos and two odd stanzas of Book VII appeared. It was reported that more of the work perished in manuscript during the fire at Kilcolman, but this is not certain.
(_b_) _The Plot._ The construction of the plot is so obscure (“clowdily enwrapped in Allegorical devises,” as Spenser himself says) that he was compelled to write a preface, in the form of a letter to his friend Sir Walter Raleigh, explaining the scheme underlying the whole. There were to be twelve books, each book to deal with the adventures of a particular knight, who was to represent some virtue. As we have the poem, the first book deals with the Knight of the Red Cross, representing Holiness; the second with Temperance; the third with Chastity; the fourth with Friendship; and so on. The chief of all the twelve is Prince Arthur, who is to appear at critical moments in the poem, and who in the end is to marry Gloriana, the Queen of “Faerie-londe.” The plot is exceedingly leisurely and elaborate; it is crammed with incident and digression; and by the fifth book it is palpably weakening. It is therefore no misfortune (as far as the plot is concerned) that only half of the story is finished.
(_c_) _The Allegory._ With its twelve divisions, each of which bears many smaller branches, the allegory is the most complex in the language. Through the story three strands keep running, twisting and untwisting in a manner both baffling and delightful. (1) There are the usual characters, poorly developed, of the Arthurian and classical romance, such as Arthur, Merlin, Saracens, fauns, and satyrs. (2) There are the allegorized moral and religious virtues, with their counterparts in the vices: Una (Truth), Guyon (Temperance), Duessa (Deceit), Orgoglio (Pride).
(3) Lastly, there is the strongly Elizabethan political-historical-religious element, also strongly allegorized. For example, Gloriana is Elizabeth, Duessa may be Mary, Queen of Scots, Archimago may be the Pope, and Artegal (Justice) is said to be Lord Grey. Sometimes the allegory winds and multiplies in a bewildering fashion. Elizabeth, who is grossly and shamelessly flattered in the poem, is sometimes Gloriana, sometimes Belphœbe, or Britomart, or Mercilla. It is very ingenious, but it retards the story.
(_d_) _The Style._ No one, however, goes to Spenser for a story; one goes to steep the senses in the rich and voluptuous style. The style has its weaknesses: it is diffuse, and lacks judgment; it is weak in “bite” and in sharpness of attack; and it is misty and unsubstantial. But for beauty long and richly wrought, for subtle and sustained melody, for graphic word-pictures, and for depth and magical color of atmosphere the poem stands supreme in English. Its imitators, good and bad, are legion. Milton, Keats, and Tennyson are among the best of them, and its influence is still powerful.
(_e_) _The Technique._ To the formal part of the poem Spenser devoted the intelligence and care of the great artist. (1) First of all, he elaborated an archaic diction: “he writ no language,” said Ben Jonson, who did not like the diction. When the occasion demanded it he invented words or word-forms; for example, he uses _blend_ for _blind_, _kest_ for _cast_, and _vilde_ for _vile_. The result is not perhaps ideal, but on the whole it suits the old-world atmosphere of the poem. (2) He introduced the Spenserian stanza, which ever since has been one of the most important measures in the language. Longer than the usual stanza, but shorter than the sonnet, as a unit it is just long enough to give an easy pace to the slowly pacing narrative. The complicated rhymes of the stanza suit the interwoven harmonies of the style; and the long line at the end acts either as a dignified conclusion or as a longer and stronger link with the succeeding stanza. (3) The alliteration, vowel-music, and cadence are cunningly fashioned, adroitly developed, and sumptuously appropriate. In these last respects Spenser is almost peerless.
We add two brief extracts to illustrate some features of the style. The reader should analyze the stanza and observe the graphical power and the melodic beauty.
(1) And more to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe, And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne. No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, As still are wont t’annoy the walled towne, Might there be heard; but carelesse Quiet lyes Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.
(2) At last he came unto a gloomy shade, Covered with boughes and shrubs from heavens light, Whereas he sitting found in secret shade An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight,[91] Of griesly hew and foule ill favour’d sight; His face with smoke was tand and eies were bleard, His head and beard with sout were ill bedight, His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have ben seard In smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.
His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust, Was underneath enveloped with gold; Whose glistring glosse, darkened with filthy dust, Well yet appeared to have beene of old A worke of rich entayle[92] and curious mould, Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery; And in his lap a masse of coyne he told, And turned upside downe, to feede his eye And covetous desire with his huge threasury.
And round about him lay on every side Great heapes of gold that never could be spent; Of which some were rude owre,[93] not purifide Of Mulcibers devouring element; Some others were new driven, and distent[94] Into great Ingowes[95] and to wedges square; Some in round plates withouten moniment; But most were stampt, and in their metal bare The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.
OTHER POETS
=1. Sir Thomas Wyat (1503–42)= was descended from an ancient Yorkshire family which adopted the Lancastrian side in the Wars of the Roses. He was educated at Cambridge, and, entering the King’s service, was entrusted with many important diplomatic missions. In public life his principal patron was Thomas Cromwell, after whose death he was recalled from abroad and imprisoned (1541). Though subsequently acquitted and released, he died shortly afterward.
None of Wyat’s poems is very long, though in number they are considerable. The most numerous of them are his love-poems, ninety-six in all, which appeared in a compendium of the day called _Tottel’s Miscellany_ (1557). The most noteworthy of these poems are the sonnets, the first of their kind in English, thirty-one in number. Of these, ten are written almost entirely in the Italian or Petrarchan form. In sentiment the shorter poems, and especially the sonnets, are serious and reflective; in style and construction they are often too closely imitative to be natural and genial; but as indications of the new scholastic and literary influences at work upon English, sweetening and chastening the earlier uncouthness, they are of the highest importance. Wyat’s epigrams, songs, and rondeaux are lighter than the sonnets, and they also reveal a care and elegance that were typical of the new romanticism. His _Satires_ are composed in the Italian _terza rima_, once again showing the direction of the innovating tendencies.
=2. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1518–47)=, whose name is usually associated in literature with that of Wyat, was the younger poet of the two. He was the son of Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, and when his father became Duke of Norfolk (1524) the son adopted the courtesy title of Earl of Surrey. Owing largely to the powerful position of his father, Surrey took a prominent part in the Court life of the time, and served as a soldier both in France and Scotland. He was a man of reckless temper, which involved him in many quarrels, and finally brought upon him the wrath of the ageing and embittered Henry VIII. He was arrested, tried for treason, and beheaded on Tower Hill.
About 1542 Surrey began his literary relations with Wyat, who was his elder by fifteen years. His poems, which were the recreations of his few leisure moments, and which were not published till after his death (1557), appeared along with Wyat’s in _Tottel’s Miscellany_. They are chiefly lyrical, and include a few sonnets, the first of their kind, composed in the English or Shakespearian mode--an arrangement of three quatrains followed by a couplet. There are in addition a large number of love-poems addressed to a mysterious “Geraldine.” They are smoother than Wyat’s poems, and are much more poetical in sentiment and expression. His most important poem was published separately: _Certain Bokes of Virgiles Æneis turned into English Meter_ (1557). Though the actual translation is of no outstanding merit, the form is of great significance; it is done in blank verse, rather rough and frigid, but the earliest forerunner of the great achievements of Shakespeare and Milton.
In the development of English verse Surrey represents a further stage: a higher poetical faculty, increased ease and refinement, and the introduction of two metrical forms of capital importance--the English form of the sonnet, and blank verse. We add a specimen of the earliest English blank verse. It is wooden and uninspired, but as a beginning it is worthy of attention.
But now the wounded quene with heavie care Throwgh out the vaines doth nourishe ay the plage, Surprised with blind flame, and to her minde Gan to resort the prowes of the man And honor of his race, whiles on her brest Imprinted stake his wordes and forme of face, Ne to her lymmes care graunteth quiet rest. The next morowe with Phœbus lampe the erthe Alightned clere, and eke the dawninge daye The shadowe danke gan from the pole remove.
=3. Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1536–1608)=, was born at Buckhurst, in Sussex, and was educated both at Oxford and Cambridge. He was called to the Bar, entered Parliament, took part in many diplomatic and public missions, and was created Lord Buckhurst in 1566. His plain speaking did not recommend itself to Elizabeth, and for a time he was in disgrace. He was restored to favor, created Lord High Treasurer, and made Earl of Dorset in 1604.
In bulk Sackville’s poetry does not amount to much, but in merit it is of much consequence. Two poems, _The Induction_ and _The Complaint of Henry, Duke of Buckingham_, appeared in a miscellany called _The Mirror for Magistrates_ (1555). Both are composed in the rhyme royal stanza, are melancholy and elegiac in spirit and archaic in language, but have a severe nobility of thought and a grandeur of conception and of language quite unknown since the days of Chaucer. The poems undoubtedly assisted Spenser in the composition of _The Faerie Queene_.
Sackville collaborated with Norton in the early tragedy of _Gorboduc_ (see p. 77).
We add a few stanzas from _The Induction_ to illustrate the somber graphical power of the poem:
And, next in order, sad Old Age we found, His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind, With drooping cheer still poring on the ground, As on the place where nature him assigned To rest, when that the Sisters had untwined His vital thread, and ended with their knife The fleeting course of fast-declining life.
There heard we him, with broke and hollow plaint, Rue with himself his end approaching fast, And all for nought his wretched mind torment With sweet remembrance of his pleasures past, And fresh delights of lusty youth forwaste;[96] Recounting which, how would he sob and shriek, And to be young again of Jove beseek!
* * * * *
Crook-backed he was, tooth-shaken, and blear-eyed, Went on three feet, and sometime crept on four; With old lame bones, that rattled by his side; His scalp all piled,[97] and he with eld forelore; His withered fist still knocking at Death’s door; Fumbling and drivelling as he draws his breath; For brief, the shape and messenger of Death.
=4. George Gascoigne (1535–77)= is another of the founders of the great Elizabethan tradition. He was born in Bedfordshire, educated at Cambridge, and became a lawyer. Later in life he entered Parliament.
In addition to a large number of elegant lyrics, he composed one of the first regular satires in the language, _The Steel Glass_ (1576). This poem has the additional importance of being written in blank verse. Among his other numerous works we can mention his tragedy _Jocasta_ (1566), a landmark in the growth of the drama (see p. 77); his _Supposes_ (1566), an important early comedy which was the basis of Shakespeare’s _Taming of the Shrew_; and _Certayne Notes of Instruction concerning the Making of Verse in English_ (1575), one of our earliest critical essays. In ease and versatility Gascoigne is typical of the best early Elizabethan miscellaneous writers.
=5. Sir Philip Sidney (1554–86)= was the chief of an elegant literary coterie, and exercised an influence which was almost supreme during his short life. He was the most commanding literary figure before the prime of Spenser and Shakespeare. Born in Kent of an aristocratic family, he was educated at Shrewsbury and Oxford, and then traveled widely. He took a brilliant part in the military-literary-courtly life common with the young nobles of the time, and at the early age of thirty-two was mortally wounded at Zutphen when assisting the Dutch against the Spaniards.
Sidney was successful in more than one branch of literature, but he owes his position chiefly to his collection of sonnets called _Astrophel and Stella_. Though they are strongly imitative of Italian sentiment, and are immature in thought and in general ideas, they are often remarkable for their flashes of real passion and their genuine poetical style. In metrical form they adopt the English scheme, and thus in another respect they foreshadow the great Shakespearian sonnets, to which alone they take second place.
=6. Michael Drayton (1563–1631)= represents the later epoch of Elizabethan literature. He was born in Warwickshire, studied at Oxford, was attached to a noble family as tutor, came to London about 1590, and for the remainder of his long life was busy in the production of his many poems.
His first book was a collection of religious poems called _The Harmony of the Church_ (1591); then followed a number of long historical poems, which include _England’s Heroical Epistles_ and _The Barons’ Wars_ (1603). His _Polyolbion_ is the most important of his longer poems, and belongs to a later period of his career. It is a long, careful, and tedious description of the geographical features of England, interspersed with tales, and written in alexandrines. His shorter poems, such as his well-known poem on Agincourt, and his verse tales and pastorals, such as _The Man in the Moon_ and _Nymphidia_, are skillful and attractive. Drayton is rarely an inspired poet--the wonderful sonnet beginning “Since there’s no help” (see p. 152) is perhaps his only poem in which we feel inspiration flowing freely--but he is painstaking, versatile, and sometimes (as in _Nymphidia_) delightful.
=7. Thomas Campion (1567–1620)= was born in London, educated at Cambridge, studied law in Gray’s Inn, but ultimately became a physician (1606). He wrote some masques that had much popularity, but his chief claim to fame lies in his attractive lyrics, most of which have been set to music composed partly by the poet himself. His best-known collections of songs were _A Booke of Ayres_ (1601), _Songs of Mourning_ (1613), and _Two Bookes of Ayres_ (1613). Campion had not the highest lyrical genius, but he had an ear skillful in adapting words to tunes, the knack of sweet phrasing, and a mastery of complicated meters. He is one of the best examples of the accomplished poet who, lacking the highest inspiration of poetry, excels in the lower technical features.
The lyric of Campion’s that we add is typical not only of his own grace and melody, but also of the later Elizabethan lyrics as a whole. The ideas, in themselves somewhat forced and fantastic, are expressed with great felicity.
There is a garden in her face, Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow; There cherries grow that none may buy, Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow: Yet them no peer nor prince may buy Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still; Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill All that attempt with eye or hand These sacred cherries to come nigh, Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.
=8. Phineas Fletcher (1582–1650)= and =Giles Fletcher (1588–1623)= are usually associated in the history of literature. They were brothers, were both educated at Cambridge, and both took holy orders. Both were poetical disciples of Spenser.
Phineas Fletcher’s chief poem is _The Purple Island, or The Isle of Man_ (1633), a curious work in twelve cantos describing the human body in an allegorical-descriptive fashion. There is much digression, which gives the poet some scope for real poetical passages. In its plan the poem is cumbrous and artificial, but it contains many descriptions in the Spenserian manner. The stanza is a further modification of the Spenserian, which it resembles except for its omission of the fifth and seventh lines.
Giles’s best-known poem is _Christ’s Victorie and Triumph_ (1610), an epical poem in four cantos. The title of the poem sufficiently suggests its subject; in style it is glowingly descriptive, imaginative, and is markedly ornate and melodious in diction. It is said partly to have inspired Milton’s _Paradise Regained_. The style is strongly suggestive of Spenser’s, and the stanza conveys the same impression, for it is the Spenserian stanza lacking the seventh line.
The Fletchers are imitators, but imitators of high quality. They lack the positive genius of their model Spenser, but they have intensity, color, melody, and great metrical artistry.
=9. John Donne (1573–1631)= was born in London, the son of a wealthy merchant. He was educated at Oxford, and then studied law. Though he entered the public service and served with some distinction, his bent was always theological, and in 1616 he was ordained. In 1621 he was appointed Dean of St. Paul’s.
Donne’s poetical works are probably more important than those composed in prose, valuable though the latter are. He began poetical composition with _Satires_ (1593), forcible and picturesque, though crabbed and obscure in language. His other poems include _The Progress of the Soul_, his longest poem, composed about 1600; _An Anatomy of the World_ (1611), a wild, exaggerated eulogy of a friend’s daughter, who had just died; and a large number of miscellaneous poems, including songs, sonnets, elegies, and letters in verse.
In his nature Donne had a strain of actual genius, but his natural gifts were so obscured with fitful, wayward, and exaggerated mannerisms that for long he was gravely underrated. His miscellaneous poems show his poetical features at their best: a solemn, half-mystical, half-fanatical religious zeal; a style of somber grandeur, shot with piercing gleams of poetical imagery; and an almost unearthly music of word and phrase. Often, and especially in the _Satires_, he is rough and obscure; in thought and expression he is frequently fantastic and almost ludicrous; but at his best, when his stubborn, melancholy humor is fired with his emotional frenzy, he is almost alone in his curious compound of gloom and brilliance, of ice and consuming fire. He is the last of the Elizabethans, and among the first of the coming race of the “Metaphysicals.”
His prose works comprise a large number of sermons, a few theological treatises, of which the greatest is _The Pseudo-Martyr_ (1609), and a small number of personal letters. In its peculiar manner his prose is a reflex of his poetry. There is the same soaring and exaggerated imagery, the same fierce pessimism, and often the same obscurity and roughness. In prose his sentences are long and shapeless, but the cadence is rapid and free, and so is suited to the purposes of the sermon.
As a brief specimen of his poetical mannerisms, good and bad, we add the following sonnet. The reader will observe the rugged grandeur of the style and the curious intellectual twist that he gives to the general idea of the poem.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy picture be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow: And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally; And death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die. _Holy Sonnetts_
=10. Samuel Daniel (1562–1619)= was born near Taunton in Somerset, educated at Oxford, and became tutor to the son of the Countess of Pembroke. For a time (1599) he was Poet Laureate, and was made (1603) Master of the Queen’s Revels by James I.
His poems include a sonnet-series called _Delia_ (1592), a romance called _The Complaint of Rosamund_ (1592), some long historical poems, such as _The Civil Wars_ (1595), and a large number of masques, of which _The Queenes Wake_ (1610) and _Hymen’s Triumph_ (1615) are the most important. His best work appears in his sonnets, which, composed in the English manner, carry on the great tradition of Sidney, Spenser, and Shakespeare. In his longer poems he is prosy and dull, though the masques have pleasing touches of imagination.
=11.= The =poetical miscellanies= which abound during this period are typical of the time. By the very extravagance of their titles they reveal the enthusiasm felt for the revival of English poetry. Each volume consists of a collection of short pieces by various poets, some well known and others unknown. Some of the best poems are anonymous. Among much that is almost worthless, there are happily preserved many poems, sometimes by unknown poets, of great and enduring beauty. We have already drawn attention (p. 96) to _Tottel’s Miscellany_ (1557), which contained, among other poems, the pieces of Wyat and Surrey. Other volumes are _The Paradyse of Daynty Devises_ (1576), _A Handfull of Pleasant Delites_ (1584), _The Phœnix Nest_ (1593), and _The Passionate Pilgrim_ (1599). The last book contains poems by Shakespeare, Marlowe, and Ralegh. The most important of the miscellanies is _England’s Helicon_ (1600), which surpasses all others for fullness, variety, and excellence of contents.
PRE-SHAKESPEARIAN DRAMA: THE UNIVERSITY WITS
In the last chapter we gave a summary of the rise of the English drama; it is now necessary to give an account of the early Elizabethan playwrights.
The name “University Wits” is usually applied to a group of young men, nearly all of whom were associated with Oxford or Cambridge, who did much to found the Elizabethan school of drama. They were all more or less acquainted with each other, and most of them led irregular and stormy lives. Their plays had several features in common. These features were of a nature almost inevitable in strong and immature productions.
(_a_) There was a fondness for heroic themes, such as the lives of great figures like Mohammed and Tamburlaine.
(_b_) Heroic themes needed heroic treatment: great fullness and variety; splendid descriptions, long swelling speeches, the handling of violent incidents and emotions. These qualities, excellent when held in restraint, only too often led to loudness and disorder.
(_c_) The style also was “heroic.” The chief aim was to achieve strong and sounding lines, magnificent epithets, and powerful declamation. This again led to abuse and to mere bombast, mouthing, and in the worst cases to nonsense. In the best examples, such as in Marlowe, the result is quite impressive. In this connection it is to be noted that the best medium for such expression was blank verse, which was sufficiently elastic to bear the strong pressure of these expansive methods.
(_d_) The themes were usually tragic in nature, for the dramatists were as a rule too much in earnest to give heed to what was considered to be the lower species of comedy. The general lack of real humor in the early drama is one of its most prominent features. Humor, when it is brought in at all, is coarse and immature. Almost the only representative of the writers of real comedies is Lyly, who in such plays as _Alexander and Campaspe_ (1584), _Endymion_ (1592), and _The Woman in the Moon_ gives us the first examples of romantic comedy.
=1. George Peele (1558–98)= was born in London, educated at Christ’s Hospital and at Oxford, and became a literary hack and free-lance in London. His plays include _The Araygnement of Paris_ (1581), a kind of romantic comedy; _The Famous Chronicle of King Edward the First_ (1593), a rambling chronicle-play; _The Old Wives’ Tale_ (1595), a clever satire on the popular drama of the day; and _The Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe_ (published 1599). Peele’s style can be violent to the point of absurdity; but he has his moments of real poetry; he can handle his blank verse with more ease and variety than was common at the time; he is fluent; he has humor and a fair amount of pathos. In short, he represents a great advance upon the earliest drama, and is perhaps the most attractive among the playwrights of the time.
We give a short example to illustrate the poetical quality of his blank verse:
_David._ Now comes my lover tripping like the roe, And brings my longings tangled in her hair. To ’joy her love I’ll build a kingly bower, Seated in hearing of a hundred streams, That, for their homage to her sovereign joys, Shall, as the serpents fold into their nests, In oblique turnings wind the nimble waves About the circles of her curious walks, And with their murmur summon easeful sleep To lay his golden sceptre on her brows. _The Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe_
=2. Robert Greene (1560–92)= wrote much and recklessly, but his plays are of sufficient merit to find a place in the development of the drama. He was born at Norwich, educated at Cambridge (1575) and at Oxford (1588), and then took to a literary life in London. If all accounts, including his own, are true, his career in London must have taken place in a sink of debauchery. He is said to have died, after an orgy in a London ale-house, “of a surfeit of pickle herringe and Rennish wine.”
Here we can refer only to his thirty-five prose tracts, which are probably the best of his literary work, for they reveal his intense though erratic energy, his quick, malicious wit, and his powerful imagination. His plays number four: _Alphonsus, King of Arragon_ (1587), an imitation of Marlowe’s _Tamburlaine_; _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ (1589), easily his best, and containing some fine representations of Elizabethan life; _Orlando Furioso_ (1586), adapted from an English translation of Ariosto; and _The Scottish Historie of James the Fourth_ (acted in 1592), not a “historical” play, but founded on an imaginary incident in the life of the King. Greene is weak in creating characters, and his style is not of outstanding merit; but his humor is somewhat genial in his plays, and his methods less austere than those of the other tragedians.
=3. Thomas Nash (1567–1601)= was born at Lowestoft, educated at Cambridge, and then (1586) went to London to make his living by literature. He was a born journalist, but in those days the only scope for his talents lay in pamphleteering. He took an active part in the political and personal questions of the day, and his truculent methods actually landed him in jail (1600). He finished Marlowe’s _Dido_, but his only surviving play is _Summer’s Last Will and Testament_ (1592), a satirical masque. His _Jack Wilton, or The Unfortunate Traveller_ (1594), a prose tale, is important in the development of the novel (see p. 336).
=4. Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)= was the son of a Lord Mayor of London, was educated in London and at Oxford, and studied law. He deserted his legal studies, took to a literary career, and is said to have been an actor at one time.
His dramatic work is small in quantity. He probably collaborated with Shakespeare in _Henry VI_, and with other dramatists, including Greene. The only surviving play entirely his own is _The Woundes of Civile War_, a kind of chronicle-play. His pamphleteering was voluminous and energetic; and he imitated the euphuistic tales of Lyly.
=5. Thomas Kyd (1558–94)= is one of the most important of the University Wits. Very little is known of his life. He was born in London, educated (probably) at Merchant Taylors’ School, adopted a literary career, and became secretary to a nobleman. He became acquainted with Marlowe, and that brilliant but sinister spirit enticed him into composing “lewd libels” and “blasphemies.” Marlowe’s sudden death saved him from punishment for such offenses; but Kyd was imprisoned and tortured. Though he was afterward released, Kyd soon died under the weight of “bitter times and privy broken passions.”
Much of this dramatist’s work has been lost. Of the surviving plays _The Spanish Tragedy_ (about 1585) is the most important. Its horrific plot, involving murder, frenzy, and sudden death, gave the play a great and lasting popularity. There is a largeness of tragical conception about the play that resembles the work of Marlowe, and there are touches of style that dimly foreshadow the great tragical lines of Shakespeare. Other plays of Kyd’s are _Soliman and Perseda_ (1588), _Jeronimo_ (1592), a kind of prologue to _The Spanish Tragedy_, and _Cornelia_ (1594), a tedious translation from the French.
=6. Christopher Marlowe (1564–93)= is symbolical both of the best and the worst of his boisterous times. The eldest son of a shoemaker, he was born at Canterbury, and educated there and at Cambridge. Like so many more of that day, he adopted literature as a profession, and became attached to the Lord Admiral’s players. Marlowe’s great mental powers had in them a twist of perversity, and they led him into many questionable actions and beliefs. He became almost the pattern of the evil ways of his tribe. Charges of atheism and immorality were laid against him, and only his sudden death saved him from the experiences of his friend Kyd. Marlowe is said to have met his death in a tavern brawl, “stabbed to death by a bawdy servingman, a rival of his in his lewde love.” In fairness to the memory of Marlowe it must be remembered that these charges were made against him by the Puritanical opponents of the stage.
With Marlowe’s tragedies we at length come within measureable distance of Shakespeare. The gulf between the work of the two men is still very great. In Marlowe there is none of that benign humanity that clings to even the grimmest of Shakespeare’s tragedies. Marlowe’s characters are bleak in nature and massive in outline; enormous and majestical, but forbidding and almost inhuman. His style has the same qualities: glowing with a volcanic energy, capable of a mighty soaring line and phrase (“Marlowe’s mighty line,” as Ben Jonson called it), but diffuse, truculent, exaggerated, and bombastic. It is a lopsided style lacking the more amiable qualities of humor, flexibility, sweetness, and brevity.
His four great plays, all written within a few years, are _Tamburlaine the Great_ (1587), _Doctor Faustus_ (1588), _The Jew of Malta_ (1589), and _Edward II_ (1593). All four, in their march of horrors and splendors, are not unlike one another. The last has a conclusion which for pity and terror ranks among the great achievements of Elizabethan tragedy. The plays, moreover, show a progressing dexterity in the handling of blank verse. Marlowe’s life was pitiably short. If he had lived there might have been another triumph to chronicle.
He also collaborated with Nash in the tragedy of _Dido_ (1593), and left uncompleted a poor fragment of a play called _The Massacre at Paris_.
We give a brief extract to show the “mighty line.” In the passage Tamburlaine, “the Scourge of God,” mentally reviews his past conquests.
And I have marched along the river Nile To Machda where the mighty Christian priest, Called John the Great, sits in a milk-white robe, Whose triple mitre I did take by force, And made him swear obedience to my crown, From thence unto Cazates did I march, Where Amazonians met me in the field, With whom, being women, I vouchsafed a league, And with my power did march to Zanzibar, The eastern part of Afric, where I viewed The Ethiopian sea, rivers and lakes, But neither man nor child in all the land; Therefore I took my course to Manico, Where unresisted, I removed my camp, And by the coast of Byather, at last I came to Cubar, where the negroes dwell, And conquering that, made haste to Nubia. There having sacked Borno, the kingly seat, I took the king, and led him bound in chains Unto Damasco, where I stayed before.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564–1616)
=1. His Life.= In considering the life of Shakespeare we have at our disposal a fair number of facts; but on these facts the industry of commentators has constructed an additional mass of great magnitude and complexity. It is therefore the duty of the historian with only a limited space at his disposal to keep his eye steadily upon the established facts and, without being superior or disdainful, to turn toward speculation or surmise, however ingenious or laborious, a face of tempered but obdurate skepticism.
The future dramatist, as we learn from the church records, was baptized in the parish church at Stratford-on-Avon on April 26, 1564. He may have been born on April 23, St. George’s Day, which happens also to be the date of his death in 1616. His father, John Shakespeare, was a burgess of the town, and seems to have followed the occupations of a butcher, a glover, and a farmer. The boy may have attended the grammar school of the town, though Ben Jonson, himself a competent scholar, affirmed that Shakespeare knew “small Latin and less Greek.” From various entries in the town records it is clear that John Shakespeare, after flourishing for a time, fell on evil days, and the son may have assisted in the paternal butcher’s shop. A bond dated November 28, 1582, affords clear evidence of Shakespeare’s marriage on that date to a certain “Anne Hatthwey of Stratford.” As at this time Shakespeare was only eighteen, and (as appears from the inscription on her monument) the bride was eight years older, speculation has busied itself over the somewhat ill-assorted match.
In 1584 Shakespeare left his native town. Why he did so is not known. The most popular explanation, which appeared after his death, is that he was convicted of poaching on the estate of a local magnate, Sir Thomas Lucy, and that he fled to escape the consequences. Then, until 1592, when he reappears as a rising actor, Shakespeare disappears from view. During this period he is said to have wandered through the country, finally coming to London, where he performed various menial offices, including that of holding horses at the stage-door. On the face of them such tales are not improbable, but they grew up when the dramatist had become a half-mythical figure.
In 1592 Robert Greene, in a carping book called _A Groatsworth of Wit_, mentions “an upstart crow ... in his own conceit the only Shakescene in a country.”[98] This reference, most probably a gibe at Shakespeare, shows that he is now important enough to merit abuse. In 1595 his name appears on the payroll of the Lord Chamberlain’s company of actors, who performed at the Court. This company, one of the most important in the town, also played in the provinces, especially during the plague of 1603, in the Shoreditch Theatre till it was demolished in 1598, in the Globe Theatre, and finally (after 1608) in the Blackfriars. During this period, as can be inferred from his purchases of property both in London and Stratford, Shakespeare was prospering in worldly affairs. He was a competent but not a great actor; tradition asserts that his chief parts were of the type of Adam in _As You Like It_ and the Ghost in _Hamlet_. His chief function was to write dramas for his company, and the fruit of such labor was his plays.
About 1610 Shakespeare left London for Stratford, where he stayed at New Place, a house that he had bought. He may have written his last plays there; but it is likely that his connection with his company of actors ceased when the Globe Theatre was burned down during a performance of _Henry VIII_ in 1613. His will, a hurriedly executed document, is dated March 25, 1616. His death occurred a month later, April 23.
=2. His Poems.= Shakespeare’s two long narrative poems were among the earliest of his writings. _Venus and Adonis_ (1593), composed in six-line stanzas, showed decided signs of immaturity. Its subject was in accordance with popular taste; its descriptions were heavily ornamented and conventional; but it contained individual lines and expressions of great beauty. Already the hand of Shakespeare was apparent. _The Rape of Lucrece_ (1594), in rhyme royal stanzas, is of less merit. As was common in the poetry of that day, the action was retarded with long speeches, but there were Shakespearian touches all through. In 1599 a collection of verse called _The Passionate Pilgrim_ appeared with Shakespeare’s name on the title-page. Of the constituent poems only one, taking its name from the title of the book, has been decidedly fixed as Shakespeare’s. It consists of some sonnets of unequal merit.
In 1609 a collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets was printed by Thomas Thorpe, who dedicated the volume to a certain “Mr. W. H.” as being “the onlie begetter” of the sonnets. Speculation has exhausted itself regarding the identity of “Mr. W. H.” The most probable explanation is that he was William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. The sonnets themselves consist of 154 numbers, which are all composed in the English form of the sonnet, that of three quatrains clenched with a couplet. The entire collection falls into two groups of unequal size, divided, at number cxxvi, by a poem of six couplets. The first group consists largely of a series of cryptic references, often passionately expressed, to his friendship with a youth, apparently of high rank, who may be, and probably is, the mysterious “Mr. W. H.” The second group, also obscurely phrased, is taken up with reproaches addressed to his mistress, “a black beauty,” whose hair is like “black wires.” The identity of this “Dark Lady of the Sonnets” is one of the romances of our literature. She may be, as is often asserted, Mary Fitton, who happened to be fair; but she probably did not exist at all. Among the numerous sonneteers of the time it was a common trick to apostrophize a lovely and fickle mistress, as a rule quite imaginary, and it may be that Shakespeare was following the custom of the period.
Concerning the literary quality of the sonnets there can be no dispute. In the depth, breadth, and persistency of their passion, in their lordly but never overweening splendor of style, and, above all, in their mastery of a rich and sensuous phraseology, they are unique. Byron once remarked that the tissue of poetry cannot be all brilliance, any more than the midnight sky can be entirely stars; but several of the sonnets (for example, xxx, xxxiii, lv, lxxi, cxvi) are thick clusters of starlight; and all through the series the frequency of lovely phrasing is great indeed. We quote one sonnet that is nearly perfect; the second that we give, after a splendid opening, deteriorates toward the conclusion.
(1) Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is a star to every wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. _Sonnet cxvi_
(2) When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rime, In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And, for they looked but with divining eyes, They had not skill enough your worth to sing: For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. _Sonnet cvi_
Shakespeare’s later poetical work is worthily represented in the numerous lyrics that are scattered through the plays. It is not quite certain how much of the songs is original; it is almost certain that Shakespeare, like Burns, used popular songs as the basis of many of his lyrics. As they stand, however, the lyrics show a great range of accomplishment, most of it of the highest quality. It varies from the nonsense-verses in _Hamlet_ and _King Lear_ to the graceful perfection of Ariel’s “Full fathom five”; from the homely rusticity of “It was a lover and his lass” to the scholarly ease and wry humor of “O mistress mine”; it includes such gems as the willow-song in _Othello_, “Take, O take those lips away,” in _Measure for Measure_, and the noble dirge, “Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,” in _Cymbeline_. If Shakespeare had not been our greatest dramatist, he would have taken a place among our greatest lyrical poets.
=3. His Plays.= Concerning the plays that are usually accepted as being Shakespeare’s, almost endless discussion has arisen. In the following pages we shall indicate the main lines of Shakesperian criticism.
(_a_) THE ORDER OF THE PLAYS. All the manuscripts of the plays have perished; Shakespeare himself printed none of the texts; and though eighteen of them appeared singly in quarto form during his lifetime, they were all unauthorized editions. It was not till 1623, seven years after his death, that the First Folio edition was printed. It contained thirty-six dramas (_Pericles_ was omitted), and these are now universally accepted as Shakespeare’s. In the Folio edition the plays are not arranged chronologically, nor are the dates of composition given. The dates of the separate Quartos are registered at Stationers’ Hall, but these are the dates of the printing. With such scanty evidence to hand to assign the order of the plays, a task fundamental to all discussion of the dramas, much ingenious deductive work has been necessary. The evidence can be divided into three groups.
(1) _Contemporary References._ With one important exception, such are of little value. The exception occurs in a book by Francis Meres (1565–1647), an Elizabethan schoolmaster. In _Palladis Tamia, Wit’s Treasury_ (1598) he gives a list of contemporary authors, among whom is Shakespeare. Meres mentions twelve of Shakespeare’s plays, along with “his _Venus and Adonis_, his _Lucrece_, and his sugred sonnets among his private friends.” This valuable reference supplies us with a list of plays which were written before 1598.
(2) _Internal References._ In the course of the plays there occur passages, more or less obscure, that can be traced to contemporary events. Such are the references to “the imperial votaress” (perhaps Elizabeth) in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_, to “the two-fold balls and treble sceptres” (perhaps the Union of 1603) in _Macbeth_, and to a famous eclipse of the moon in the _Sonnets_. Owing to the invariable obscurity of the passages, this class of evidence should be used cautiously, but unfortunately it has been made the basis of much wild theorizing.
(3) _The Literary Evidence._ Soberly examined, and taken strictly in conjunction with the statement of Meres and the dates of the Quartos (when these are available), this type of evidence is by far the most reliable. We can examine the workmanship of the plays, paying attention to the construction of the plots, the force and originality of the characters, the standard of style, the metrical dexterity--in short, the general level of competence. In a general survey of the dramas no great skill is necessary on the part of the reader to observe a distinct variation in craftsmanship. By grading the plays according to their literary development a certain rough approximation of date can be deduced.
(_b_) THE DATES OF THE PLAYS. The following table, which to a large extent is the outcome of generations of discussion and contention, represents a moderate or average estimate of the dates of the plays. It can be only an approximate estimate, for no exact decision can ever be possible.
1590
1 _Henry VI_
1591–2
2 _Henry VI_ 3 _Henry VI_
1593
_Richard III_ _Edward III_ (in part) _The Comedy of Errors_
1594
_Titus Andronicus_ _The Taming of the Shrew_ _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ _Romeo and Juliet_
1595
_A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_ _King John_
1596
_Richard II_ _The Merchant of Venice_
1597
1 _Henry IV_
1598
2 _Henry IV_ _Much Ado about Nothing_
1599
_Henry V_ _Julius Cæsar_
1600
_The Merry Wives of Windsor_ _As You Like It_
1601
_Hamlet_ _Twelfth Night_
1602
_Troilus and Cressida_ _All’s Well that Ends Well_
1603
(Theaters closed)
1604
_Measure for Measure_ _Othello_
1605
_Macbeth_ _King Lear_
1606
_Antony and Cleopatra_ _Coriolanus_
1607
_Timon of Athens_ (unfinished)
1608
_Pericles_ (in part)
1609
_Cymbeline_
1610
_The Winter’s Tale_
1611
_The Tempest_
1613
_The Two Noble Kinsmen_ (in part) _Henry VIII_ (in part)
(_c_) CLASSIFICATION OF THE PLAYS. It is customary to group the plays into sets that to some extent traverse the order given above.
(1) _The Early Comedies._ In these plays there is a certain amount of immaturity: the plots show less originality; the characters are less finished; the power of the style is less sustained; the humor is often puerile and quibbling; and there is a large amount of prose. Of this type are _The Comedy of Errors_, _Love’s Labour’s Lost_, and _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_.
(2) _The Histories._ These show an advance, particularly in style. There is more blank verse, which, though it is often stiffly imitative of the older playwrights, abounds in splendid passages. The appearance of such characters as Falstaff in _Henry IV_ and other plays is a sign of growing strength.
(3) _The Tragedies._ The great tragedies, such as _Hamlet_, _Macbeth_, and _King Lear_, are the climax of Shakespearian art. They reveal the best of his characterization and the full power of his style.
(4) _The Later Comedies._ A mellowed maturity is the chief feature of this group, which contains _Cymbeline_, _The Winter’s Tale_, and _The Tempest_. The creative touch of the dramatist, making living men out of figment, is abundantly in view; the style is notable and serenely adequate; and with the ease of the master the author thoroughly subdues the meter to his will. No more fitting conclusion--rich, ample, and graciously dignified--could be found to round off the work of our greatest literary genius.
=4. His Prose.= Shakespeare’s prose appears all through the plays, sometimes in passages of considerable length. In the aggregate the amount is quite large. In the earlier comedies the amount is considerable, but the proportion is apt to diminish in the later plays. With regard to the prose, the following points should be observed: (_a_) it is the common vehicle for comic scenes, though used too in serious passages (one of which is given below); (_b_) it represents the common speech of the period, and some of it, as can be seen in _Hamlet_, is pithy and bracing. Even the rather stupid clowning that often takes place cannot altogether conceal its beauty.
We quote a passage from _Hamlet_. The style is quite modern in phrase, and the beauty and grace of it are far beyond the ordinary standard of Shakespeare’s literary contemporaries.
I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form, in moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? _Hamlet_
=5. Features of his Plays.= The extent, variety, and richness of the plays are quite bewildering as one approaches them. All that can be done here is to set down in order some of the more obvious of their qualities.
(_a_) _Their Originality._ In the narrowest sense of the term, Shakespeare took no trouble to be original. Following the custom of the time, he borrowed freely from older plays (such as _King Leir_), chronicles (such as Holinshed’s), and tales (such as _The Jew_, the part-origin of _The Merchant of Venice_). To these he is indebted chiefly for his plots; but in his more mature work the interest in the plot becomes subordinate to the development of character, the highest achievement of the dramatist’s art. He can work his originals deftly: he can interweave plot within plot, as in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_; he can solidify years of history into five acts, as in _King John_ and _Antony and Cleopatra_; and, as in _Macbeth_, he makes the dust of history glow with the spirit of his imagination.
(_b_) _Characters._ (1) In sheer _prodigality of output_ Shakespeare is unrivaled in literature. From king to clown, from lunatic and demi-devil to saint and seer, from lover to misanthrope--all are revealed with the hand of the master. Surveying this multitude, one can only cry out, as Hamlet does, “What a piece of work is man!”
(2) Another feature of Shakespeare’s characterization is his attitude of _impartiality_. He seems indifferent to good and evil; he has the eye of the creator, viewing bright and dismal things alike, provided they are apt and real. In his characters vice and virtue commingle, and the union is true to the common sense of humanity. Thus the villain Iago is a man of resolution, intelligence, and fortitude; the murderer Claudius (in _Hamlet_) shows affection, wisdom, and fortitude; the peerless Cleopatra is narrow, spiteful, and avaricious; and the beast Caliban has his moments of ecstatic vision. The list could be extended almost without limit, but these examples must serve.
(3) Hence follows the _vital force_ that resides in the creations of Shakespeare. They live, move, and utter speech; they are rounded, entire, and capable. Very seldom, and that almost entirely in the earlier plays, he uses the wooden puppets that are the stock-in-trade of the inferior dramatist. Of such a kind are some of his “heavy” fathers, like Egeus (in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_), and his sentimental lovers, like Orsino (in _Twelfth Night_). Yet, as a rule, in the hands of Shakespeare the heavy father can develop into such living beings as the meddlesome old bore Polonius (in _Hamlet_), and the tediously sentimental lover can become the moody and headstrong Romeo, or the virile and drolly humorous Orlando (in _As You Like It_).
(_c_) _Meter._ As in all the other features of his work, in meter Shakespeare shows abnormal range and power. In the earlier plays the blank verse is regular in beat and pause; there is a fondness for the stopped and rhymed couplet; and in a few cases the couplet passes into definite stanza-formation in a manner suggestive of the early pre-Shakespearian comedies.
_Lysander._ Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true? _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_
As Shakespeare becomes more sure of his instrument the verse increases in ease and dexterity; the cadence is varied; the pause is shifted to any position in the line. In the later plays there is an especial fondness for the extra syllable at the end of the line. And before he finishes he has utterly subdued the meter to his will. In the last line of the extract now given every foot is abnormal:
_Lear._ And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never! _King Lear_
(_d_) _Style._ For lack of a better name we call Shakespeare’s style Shakesperian. One can instantly recognize it, even in other authors, where it is rarely visible. It is a difficult, almost an impossible, matter to define it. There is aptness and quotability in it: sheaves of Shakespeare’s expressions have passed into common speech. To a very high degree it possesses sweetness, strength, and flexibility; and above all it has a certain inevitable and final felicity that is the true mark of genius.
The following specimen shows the average Shakespearian style, if such a thing exists at all. It is not extremely elevated or poetical, but it is strong, precise, and individual.
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story. _Hamlet_
Such a style moves easily into the highest flights of poetry:
(1) That strain again! it had a dying fall: O! it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour. _Twelfth Night_
(2) _Cleopatra._ Come, thou mortal wretch,
[_To the asp, which she applies to her breast._
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie; poor venomous fool, Be angry, and despatch....
_Charmian._ O eastern star!
_Cleopatra._ Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep? _Antony and Cleopatra_
Or it can plumb the depths of terror and despair. The following are the words of a condemned wretch shivering on the brink of extinction:
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprisoned in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling: ’tis too horrible! _Measure for Measure_
The style lends itself to the serenely ecstatic reverie of the sage:
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. _The Tempest_
It can express, on the other hand, the bitterest cynicism:
But, man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he’s most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep. _Measure for Measure_
Or, in prose, Shakespeare can put into words the artless pathos of the humble hostess of the inn:
_Hostess._ Nay, sure, he’s not in hell: he’s in Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. A’ made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child; a’ parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o’ the tide; for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers’ ends, I knew that there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a’ babbled of green fields. “How now, Sir John?” quoth I: “what, man! be of good cheer.” So a’ cried out “God, God, God!” three or four times. _Henry V_
Shakespeare can rant, and often rants badly; but at its best his ranting glows with such imaginative splendor that it becomes a thing of fire and majesty:
His legs bestrid the ocean; his reared arm Crested the world; his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in’t, an autumn ’twas That grew the more by reaping; his delights Were dolphin-like, they showed his back above The element they lived in; in his livery Walked crowns and crownets, realms and islands were As plates dropped from his pocket. _Antony and Cleopatra_
With such a style as this Shakespeare can compass the world of human emotion, and he does so.
=6. Summary.= “He was the man,” said Dryden, “who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul.”
POST-SHAKESPEARIAN DRAMA
In the following section it will be found that, although much of the work was composed during Shakespeare’s lifetime, the most typical of the plays appeared after his death. On the whole, moreover, the work marks a decline from the Shakespearian standard, and so we are probably justified in calling this type of drama post-Shakespearian.
=1. Ben Jonson (1573–1637)= was born at Westminster, and educated at Westminster School. His father died before Jonson’s birth, and the boy adopted the trade of his stepfather, who was a master bricklayer. Bricklaying did not satisfy him for long, and he became a soldier, serving in the Low Countries. From this he turned to acting and writing plays, engaging himself, both as actor and playwright, with the Lord Admiral’s company (1597). At first he had little success, and the discouragement he encountered then must have done much to sour a temper that was not at any time very genial. In his combative fashion he took part freely in the squabbles of the time, and in 1598 he killed a fellow-actor in a duel, narrowly escaping the gallows. On the accession of James I in 1603 there arose a new fashion for picturesque pageants known as masques, and Jonson turned his energies to supplying this demand, with great success. After this period (160315) he commanded great good-fortune, and during this time his best work was produced. In 1617 he was created poet to the King, and the close of James’s reign saw Jonson the undisputed ruler of English literature. His favorite haunt was the Mermaid Tavern, where he reigned as dictator over a younger literary generation. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, and over him was placed the epitaph “O rare Ben Jonson!”
Jonson’s works, extremely voluminous and of varying merit, can be classified for convenience into comedies, tragedies, masques, and lyrics. His one considerable prose work, a kind of commonplace book, to which he gave the curious name of _Timber_, is of much interest, but does not affect his general position.
He began with the comedy _Every Man in his Humour_, which was written in 1598; then followed _Every Man out of His Humour_ (1599), _Cynthia’s Revels_ (1600), and _The Poetaster_ (1601). These earliest comedies are rather tedious in their characters, for they emphasize unduly the “humor” or peculiar characteristic of each individual. They are, however, ingenious in plot, rich in rugged and not entirely displeasing fun, and full of vivacity and high spirits. The later group of comedies shows a decided advance. The characters are less angular, livelier, and much more convincing; the style is more matured and equable. Such comedies, perhaps the best of all Jonson’s dramatic work, are _Volpone, or The Fox_ (1605), _Epicene, or The Silent Woman_ (1609), and _The Alchemist_ (1610). His last comedies are lighter and more farcical, and show less care and forethought. They include _Bartholomew Fair_ (1614), _The Devil Is an Ass_ (1616), and _The Staple of News_ (1625). His last unfinished play, _The Sad Shepherd_, a pastoral comedy, is unapproached among his dramas for its combination of sober reflection, lightness of fancy, and delicacy of touch. In nearly all his comedies Jonson opened up a vein that was nearly new and was to be very freely worked by his successors--the comedy of London life and humors, reflecting the manners of the day.
His two historical tragedies, _Sejanus his Fall_ (1603) and _Catiline his Conspiracy_ (1611), are too labored and mechanical to be reckoned as great tragedies, though their author would fain have had them so. They show immense learning, they have power, variety, and insight, but they lack the last creative touch necessary to stamp them with reality, and to give them a living appeal.
As for his masques, they are abundant, graceful, and humorously ingenious. Into them Jonson introduced the device of the anti-masque, which parodied the principal theme. The best of them are _The Masque of Beauty_ (1608), _The Masque of Queens_ (1609), and _Oberon, the Fairy Prince_ (1611).
The lyrics, which are freely introduced into his plays, and the elegies, epitaphs, and other occasional pieces, many of which appeared in a volume called _Underwoods_ (“consisting of divers poems”), represent Jonson’s work in its sweetest and most graceful phase. His song, a translation from Philostratus, beginning “Drink to me only with thine eyes,” is deservedly famous. We cannot resist quoting two brief but typical pieces:
(1) Have you seen but a bright lillie grow, Before rude hands have touch’d it? Have you mark’d but the fall of the snow Before the soyle hath smutch’d it? Have you felt the wooll of the bever? Or swan’s downe ever? Or have smelt of the bud of the brier? Or the nard on the fire? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she! _The Triumph_
(2) Underneath this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another, Learned, and fair, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee! _Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke_[99]
In the estimation of his own age Jonson stood second to none; to a later generation he is overshadowed by the towering bulk of Shakespeare. But even the enormous prestige of Shakespeare cannot or ought not to belittle the merits of Jonson. Of Jonson we can justly say that he had all good literary gifts except one, and that the highest and most baffling of all--true genius. He had learning--perhaps too much of it; industry and constancy well beyond the ordinary; versatility; a crabbed and not unamiable humor, diversified with sweetness, grace, and nimbleness of wit; and a style quite adequate to his needs. But the summit of it all--the magical phrase that catches the breath, the immortal spirit that creates out of words and buckram “forms more real than living man”--these were lacking; and without these he cannot join the circle of the very great.
=2. Francis Beaumont (1584–1616)= and =John Fletcher (1575–1625)= combined to produce a great number of plays, said to be fifty-two in all. How much of the joint work is to be assigned to the respective hands is not accurately known.
The elder, Fletcher, was a cousin of Giles and Phineas Fletcher (see (p. 101), and was born at Rye, Sussex. He was educated at Cambridge, and lived the life of a London literary man. He died of the plague in 1625. His colleague Beaumont, who was probably the abler of the two, was the son of a judge, Sir Francis Beaumont, was educated at Oxford, and entered the Inner Temple (1600), but was captivated by the attractions of a literary life. He died almost within a month of Shakespeare, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
They excelled in comedy, especially in the comedy of London life. Theirs is not the heavy “humorous” comedy of Jonson, but is lighter and more romantic. Their characters are slighter, but more pleasing and human; their humor is free and genial, and their representation of contemporary life is happy and attractive. Their plots are ingenious and workmanlike, and their incidents numerous and striking. Their style shows a distinct decline from the high standard of Shakespeare. They have a greater fondness for prose, their blank verse is looser and weaker, but they are capable of poetical lines and phrases. Typical comedies are _A King and No King_ (1611), esteemed by Dryden the best of them all, _The Knight of the Burning Pestle_ (1611), a very agreeable farce, and _The Scornful Lady_ (1616). Their tragedies, such as _The Maid’s Tragedy_ (1619), _Philaster_ (1620), suggesting _Twelfth Night_, and _The Faithful Shepherdess_ (by Fletcher alone), are not too tragical, and they are diversified by attractive incidents and descriptions.
=3. George Chapman (1559–1634)= was born at Hitchin. Beyond this fact little is known of him. He took part in the literary life of his time, for his name appears in the squabbles of his tribe. He died in London.
His first play, _The Blind Beggar of Alexandria_ (1596) was followed by many more, both comical and tragical. Among them are _Bussy d’Ambois_ (1597), _Charles, Duke of Byron_ (1608), and _The Tragedie of Chabot_ (1639). These are historical plays, dealing with events nearly contemporary with his own time. Chapman’s comedies include _All Fools_ (1605) and _Eastward Hoe!_ (1605), in the latter of which he combined with Jonson and Marston. Chapman writes agreeably and well; he has firmness, competence, and variety, and his comic and tragic powers are considerable. His translation of _Homer_ has something of the pace and music of the original.
=4. John Marston (1575–1634)= was born at Coventry, was educated there and at Oxford, became a literary figure in London, and later took orders. Latterly he resigned his living in Hampshire, and died in London.
Marston specialized in violent and melodramatic tragedies, which do not lack a certain impressiveness, but which are easily parodied and no less easily lead to abuse. They impressed his own generation, who rated him with Jonson. For a later age they are spoiled to a great extent by exaggeration, rant, and excessive speeches. Typical of them are _Antonio and Mellida_ (1602) and _Antonio’s Revenge_ (1602), which were ridiculed by Jonson in _The Poetaster_.
=5. Thomas Dekker (1570–1641)= was born in London, where his life was passed as a literary hack and playwright. His plays, chiefly comedies, have an attraction quite unusual for the time. They have a sweetness, an arch sentimentality, and an intimate knowledge of common men and things that have led to his being called the Dickens of the Elizabethan stage. His plots are chaotic, and his blank verse, which very frequently gives place to prose, is weak and sprawling. The best of his plays are _Old Fortunatus_ (1600), _The Shoemaker’s Holiday_ (1600), and _Satiromastix_ (1602). He collaborated with other playwrights, including Ford and Rowley, with whom he wrote _The Witch of Edmonton_ (about 1633), and Massinger, in _The Virgin Martyr_ (1622).
=6. Thomas Middleton (1570–1627)= was born in London, wrote much for the stage, and in 1620 was made City Chronologer.
He is one of the most equable and literary of the dramatists of the age; he has a decided fanciful turn; he is a close observer and critic of the life of the time, and a dramatist who on a few occasions can rise to the heights of greatness. His most powerful play, which has been much praised by Lamb and others, is _The Changeling_ (1624); others are _Women beware Women_ (1622), _The Witch_, which bears a strong resemblance to _Macbeth_, and _The Spanish Gipsy_ (1623), a romantic comedy suggesting _As You Like It_. Along with Dekker he wrote _The Roaring Girle, or Moll Cutpurse_ (1611), which is a close dramatic parallel to the earliest novels.
=7. Thomas Heywood (1575–1650)= was born in Lincolnshire about 1575, was educated at Cambridge, and became an author and dramatist in London. He himself asserts that he had a hand (“or at least a main finger”) in two hundred and twenty plays, of which twenty-three survive.
Like so many more dramatists of the time, he excelled in his pictures of London life and manners. He was a rapid and light improviser, an expert contriver of stage situations, but otherwise content with passable results, and caring little about the higher flights of the dramatist. His best play is _A Woman Killed with Kindnesse_ (1603), which contains some strongly pathetic scenes; _The English Traveller_ (1633) is only slightly inferior. Other plays of his are _The Royall King_ (1600), _The Captives_ (1624), and a series of clumsy historical dramas, including _King Edward the Fourth_ (1600) and _The Troubles of Queene Elizabeth_ (1605).
=8. John Webster=, who flourished during the first twenty years of the seventeenth century, excels his fellows as a tragical artist. Next to nothing is known regarding his life, and much of his work has been lost, but what remains is sufficient to show that he was a writer of no mean ability. Selecting themes of gloomy and supernatural horror, of great crimes and turbulent emotions and desires, he rises to the height of his argument with an ability equal to his ambition. In several respects--in bleak horror and in largeness of tragical conception--he resembles Marlowe; but he is terse and precise when Marlowe is simply turgid; his plots have the inexorable march of Fate itself; and he far excels Marlowe in brief and almost blinding flashes of sorrow and pity. His two great plays are _The White Devil_ (1612) and _The Duchess of Malfy_ (1623). Other and inferior plays ascribed to him are _The Devil’s Law Case_ (1623) and _Appius and Virginia_.
=9. Cyril Tourneur= (1575–1626) seems to have been a soldier and to have served in the Low Countries. He took part in Buckingham’s disastrous expedition to Cadiz, and on his return died in Ireland.
In the work of Tourneur we have horrors piled on horrors. His two plays _The Revenger’s Tragedy_ (1600) and _The Atheist’s Tragedy_ (1611) are melodramatic to the highest degree. He attempts much, but achieves little. He does not lack a certain poetic sensibility; but he lacks grip, method, and balance, and he is weakest where Webster is strongest.
THE ENGLISH BIBLE: THE AUTHORIZED VERSION
In the last chapter we indicated the growth of the Bible from the earliest to Reformation times. The task of translation was completed by the issue of _King James’s Bible_, or the _Authorized Version_ (1611).
The need for a standard text was urged during the conference between the dissentient sects held at Hampton Court in 1604. James I, who was present at some stages of the conference, approved of the project. Forty-seven scholars, including the ablest professorial and episcopal talent, were appointed for the task; they were divided into six companies, each receiving a certain portion of the Biblical text for translation; each company revised the work of its fellow-translators. The task, begun in 1607, was completed in 1611. Since that date little of sufficient authority has been done to shake the Authorized Version’s dominating position as the greatest of English translations.
It may be of use here to set down some of the more obvious features of this great work.
=1.= With regard to the actual work of =translation=, it ought to be regarded simply as the climax of a long series of earlier translations. The new translators came to handle a large mass of work already in existence. All the debatable ground in the texts had been fought over again and again, and in a dim fashion a standard was emerging. The translators themselves acknowledge this in the preface to their work: their task, they say, is “to make a good one better, or out of many good ones one principal good one.” In other words, their task was largely one of selection and amendment. The reliance upon earlier work resulted in a certain old-fashioned flavor that was felt even in Jacobean times. “It is not the English,” says Hallam, “of Daniel or Ralegh or Bacon.... It abounds, especially in the Old Testament, in obsolete phraseology.” It is a tribute to the compelling power and beauty of the Authorized Version that its archaisms have long been accepted as permissible, and even inevitable. Allowing, however, for all the reliance upon earlier work, one cannot overpraise the sound judgment, the artistic taste, and the sensitive ear of every member of the band who built up such a stately monument to our tongue.
=2. Diversity of the Work.= One can best appreciate the vastness and complexity of the Bible by recollecting that it is not a single book, but an entire literature, or even two literatures, for both in time and temper the New Testament is separated from the Old. The different books of the Bible were composed at widely different times, and many hands worked at them. Their efforts resulted in a huge collection of all the main species of literature--expository, narrative, and lyrical. These will be noticed in their order below.
=3. Unity of the Work.= If the Bible were a collection of discordant elements it would not possess its peculiar literary attraction. In spite of the diversity of its sources it has a remarkable uniformity of treatment and spirit. The core and substance of the entire work is the belief and delight in the Divine Spirit; and, added to this, especially in the Old Testament, a fiery faith in the pre-eminence of the Jewish race. With regard to the literary style, from cover to cover it is almost unvaried: firm, clear, simple, dignified, and thoroughly English. It represents the broad and stable average of the labors of generations of devout and ardent men; and it endureth unshaken.
=4. The Expository Portions.= Considered from the purely literary point of view, the expository parts (that is, those that contain exhortation, information, or advice) are of least importance. In bulk they are considerable, and include the Book of Deuteronomy in the Old Testament and the Pauline Epistles in the New. They have all the distinction of the Biblical style, and they are expressed with clearness, dignity, and precision.
=5.= The =narrative portions= include the bulk of the Bible, and are of great literary interest and value. In the Old Testament they comprise the Pentateuch and many other books, and in the New Testament they include the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. The tone of the Old Testament differs somewhat from that of the New. As can be supposed, the former is often harsher in note, and is sometimes confused and contradictory (from the unsatisfactory condition of some of the texts); the New Testament narrative, which came under the influence of the Greek, is more scholarly and liberal in tone. Both, however, have a breadth, solidity, and noble austerity of style that make the Biblical narrative stand alone. It is perhaps unnecessary to quote, but one short specimen may not be out of place:
Then took they him, and led him, and brought him into the high priest’s house. And Peter followed afar off.
And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and were set down together, Peter sat down among them.
But a certain maid beheld him as he sat by the fire, and earnestly looked upon him, and said, This man was also with him.
And he denied him, saying, Woman, I know him not.
And, after a little while, another saw him, and said, Thou art also of them. And Peter said, Man, I am not.
And about the space of one hour after, another confidently affirmed, saying, Of a truth this fellow also was with him; for he is a Galilean.
And Peter said, Man, I know not what thou sayest. And immediately, when he yet spake, the cock crew.
And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.
And Peter went out, and wept bitterly. _St. Luke_
=6. The Lyrical Portions.= These (which include the Psalms, the Song of Solomon, much of the Book of Job, and the frequent passages, such as the song of Sisera, which occur in the narrative books) are perhaps the most important as literature. In addition to their native shrewdness and persistence, the Jews had a strongly emotional strain, which finds wide expression in the Bible. Their poetry, like that of the Old English, was rhythmic; it went by irregularly distributed beats or accents. The English translators to a large extent preserved the Jewish rhythms, adding to them the music, the cadence, the soar and the swing of ecstatic English prose. In theme Jewish poetry is the primitive expression of simple people regarding the relations of man and God and the universe. Its similes and metaphors are based upon simple elemental things--the heavens, the running water, and the congregations of wild beasts. The emotions are mystically and rapturously expressed, and convey the impression of much earnestness. The following extract is fairly typical of its kind:
As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?
When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday.
Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance. _The Book of Psalms_
=7. The Influence of the Bible.= The English Bible has been a potent influence in our literature. Owing largely to their poetical or proverbial nature, multitudes of Biblical expressions have become woven into the very tissue of the tongue: “a broken reed,” “the eleventh hour,” “a thorn in the flesh,” “a good Samaritan,” “sweat of the brow,” and so on. More important, probably, is the way in which the style affects that of many of our greatest writers. The influence is nearly all for the good; for a slight strain of the Biblical manner, when kept artistically within bounds, imparts simplicity, dignity, and elevation. Bunyan shows the style almost undiluted; but in the works of such widely diverse writers as Ruskin, Macaulay, Milton, and Tennyson the effects, though slighter, are quite apparent.
FRANCIS BACON, BARON VERULAM, VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS (1561–1626)
=1. His Life.= Bacon was born in London, the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. The family was connected with the Cecils and other political magnates of the time. Bacon was a delicate youth, and for a time he was educated privately; then he proceeded to Cambridge, and thence entered Gray’s Inn (1576). To complete his education he spent three years in France. On his being called to the Bar his family influence helped him to acquire a fair practice; but Bacon was ambitious and longed for the highest rewards that his profession could bestow. He became a member of Parliament in 1584, but the recognition that he expected from the Queen did not come his way, hard though he fought for it. He assisted in the prosecution of the Earl of Essex, a nobleman who had befriended him earlier in his career. Essex, an injudicious man, had involved himself in a charge of treason, and the ingenuity of Bacon was largely instrumental in bringing him to the block. On the accession of James I Bacon, who was never remiss in urging his own claims to preferment, began to experience prosperity, for he was tireless in urging the royal claims before Parliament. He was made a knight in 1603, and Attorney-General in 1613. In the latter capacity he was James’s chief agent in asserting and enforcing the King’s theories of divine right, and he became thoroughly unpopular with the House of Commons. His reward came in 1618, when he was appointed Lord Chancellor and created Baron Verulam, and in 1621, when he became Viscount St. Albans. Popular dissatisfaction was mounting against the King and his agents, and when Parliament met in 1620 it laid charges of bribery and corrupt dealings against the Lord Chancellor. Bacon quailed before the storm; made what amounted to a confession of guilt; and was subjected to the huge fine of £40,000 (which was partially remitted), imprisonment during the King’s pleasure (which was restricted to four days in the Tower of London), and exile from Court and office. He spent the last five years of his life in the pursuit of literary and scientific works.
=2. His Works.= Bacon wrote both in Latin and English, and of the two he considered the Latin works to be the more important.
(_a_) His English works include his _Essays_, which first appeared in 1597. Then they numbered ten; but the second (1612) and third (1625) editions raised the number to thirty-eight and fifty-eight respectively. They are on familiar subjects, such as Learning, Studies, Vainglory, and Great Place; and in method they represent the half-casual meditations of a trained and learned mind. His other English works were _The Advancement of Learning_ (1605), containing the substance of his philosophy; _Apophthegms_ (1625), a kind of jest-book; and _The New Atlantis_, left unfinished at his death, a philosophical romance modeled upon More’s _Utopia_.
(_b_) His Latin works were to be fashioned into a vast scheme, which he called _Instauratio Magna_, expounding his philosophical theories. It was laid out on the following plan, but it was scarcely half finished:
(1) _De Augmentis Scientiarum_ (1623). This treatise, in which the English work on the _Advancement of Learning_ is embodied, gives a general summary of human knowledge, taking special notice of gaps and imperfections in science.
(2) _Novum Organum_ (1620). This work explains the new logic, or inductive method of reasoning, upon which his philosophy is founded. Out of the nine sections into which he divides the subject the first only is handled with any fullness, the other eight being merely named.
(3) _Sylva Sylvarum_ (left incomplete). This part was designed to give a complete view of what we call Natural Philosophy and Natural History. The subjects he has touched on under this head are four--the History of Winds, Life and Death, Density and Rarity, Sound and Hearing.
(4) _Scala Intellectus._ Of this we have only a few of the opening pages.
(5) _Prodromi._ A few fragments only were written.
(6) _Philosophia Secunda._ Never executed.
=3. His Style.= Of Bacon as a philosopher we can only say that he is one of the founders of modern systematic thought. His most important literary work is his _Essays_. In its three versions this work shows the development of Bacon’s English style. In the first edition the style is crisp, detached, and epigrammatic, conveying the impression that each essay has arisen from some happy thought or phrase, around which other pithy statements are agglomerated. In the later editions the ideas are expanded, the expression loses its spiky pointedness, and in the end we have an approach to a freer middle style, an approximation to the swinging manner of Dryden. Bacon had no ear for rhythm and melody; a born rhetorician, he preferred the sharper devices of antithesis and epigram; and he was always clear, orderly, and swiftly precise in his phrasing. Following the fashion of the time, he was free in his use of allusions, conceits, and Latin tags, creating rather a garish ornamental effect; but his style is saved from triviality by his breadth of intellect, by his luminous intensity of ideas, and by his cool man-of-the-world sagacity.
For the sake of comparison we quote the same extract from the first and third editions of the _Essays_. The second extract, it will be noticed, is a studied expansion of the first.
(1) Crafty men contemn them, simple men admire them, wise men use them; for they teach not their own use, but that is a wisdom without them and above them won by observation. Read not to contradict nor to believe, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts, others to be read but cursorily, and some few to be read wholly and with diligence and attention. Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.
(2) Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. _Of Studies_
OTHER PROSE-WRITERS
=1. Roger Ascham (1515–68)= is representative of the earliest school of Elizabethan prose. He was born in Yorkshire, and educated privately and at St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he became a Fellow (1535) and a teacher of Greek (1540). He took part in the literary and religious disputes of the time, but managed to keep his feet on the shifting grounds of politics. He was appointed tutor to Elizabeth (1548) and secretary to Queen Mary; he visited the Continent as secretary to an embassy; and ultimately was appointed a canon of York Minster.
His two chief works were _Toxophilus_ (1544), a treatise, in the form of a dialogue, on archery; and _The Scholemaster_ (1570), an educational work containing some ideas that were then fairly fresh and enlightening. Ascham was a man of moderate literary talent, of great industry, and of boundless enthusiasm for learning. Though he is strongly influenced by classical models, he has all the strong Elizabethan sense of nationality. In _Toxophilus_ he declares his intention of “writing this English matter in the English speech for Englishmen.” In style he is plain and strong, using only the more obvious graces of alliteration and antithesis.
=2. John Lyly (1553–1606)= marks another stage in the march of English prose. He was born in Kent, educated at Oxford, and, failing to obtain Court patronage, became a literary man in London. At first he had considerable success, and entered Parliament; but at a later stage his popularity declined, and he died poverty-stricken in London.
We have already mentioned his comedies (see p. 105), which at the time brought him fame and money. But his first prose work, _Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit_ (1579), made him one of the foremost figures of the day. He repeated the success with a second part, _Euphues and his England_ (1580). The work is a kind of travel-romance, recounting the adventures of Euphues, a young Athenian. The narrative is interspersed with numerous discussions upon many topics. It was, however, the style of its prose that gave the book its great vogue. It is the first consciously fabricated prose style in the language. It is mannered and affected almost to the point of being ridiculous. Its tricks are obvious and easily imitated, and they are freely applied by the next generation: balanced phrases, intricate alliteration, labored comparisons drawn from classical and other sources, and ornate epithets. The effect is quaint and not displeasing, but the narrative labors under the weight of it. It certainly suited the growing literary consciousness of its day, and hence its pronounced, though temporary, success.
The following extract will illustrate the euphuistic manner:
Philautus being a town-born child, both for his own countenance, and the great countenance which his father had while he lived, crept into credit with Don Ferardo one of the chief governors of the city, who although he had a courtly crew of gentlewomen sojourning in his palace, yet his daughter, heir to his whole revenues stained the beauty of them all, whose modest bashfulness caused the other to look wan for envy, whose lily cheeks dyed with a vermilion red, made the rest to blush for shame. For as the finest ruby staineth the colour of the rest that be in place, or as the sun dimmeth the moon, that she cannot be discerned, so this gallant girl more fair than fortunate, and yet more fortunate than faithful, eclipsed the beauty of them all, and changed their colours. Unto her had Philautus access, who won her by right of love, and should have worn her by right of law, had not Euphues by strange destiny broken the bonds of marriage, and forbidden the banns of matrimony. _Euphues and his England_
=3. Richard Hooker (1553–1600)= was born near Exeter, and educated at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, where he was elected a Fellow (1577). In 1582 he took orders, and later was appointed to a living in Kent, where he died.
His great work, at which he labored during the greater part of his life, was _The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_. The first four of the proposed eight books were issued in 1593; he finished one more; and though the remaining three were published under his name when he was dead, it is very doubtful if he was entirely responsible for them. In the work he supports Episcopacy against Presbyterianism. In style he is strongly affected by classical writers; but he usually writes with homeliness and point; his sentences are carefully constructed; the rhythm moves easily; and there is both precision and melody in his choice of vocabulary. His style is an early example of scholarly and accomplished English prose.
=4. Sir Thomas Overbury (1581–1613)= may be taken as typical of a fairly large class of Elizabethan writers. He was born in Warwickshire, educated at Oxford, and became a figure at the Court of King James. His chief friend at Court was James’s favorite Robert Carr, with whom he quarreled over a love-affair. For this Overbury fell into disfavor, and was imprisoned in the Tower, where he was poisoned under mysterious and barbarous circumstances.
Overbury survives in literature as the author of a series of _Characters_ (1614). Based on the ancient Greek work of Theophrastus, the book consists of a number of concise character-sketches of well-known types, such as a Milkmaid, a Pedant, a Franklin, and “an Affectate Traveller.” The sketches are solely of types, not of individuals, and so lack any great literary merit. But they are important for several reasons: they are a curious development of the pamphlet, which was so common at that time; they are another phase of the “humours” craze, seen so strongly in the Jonsonian and other dramas; and they are an important element in the growth of the essay. In style the book is strongly euphuistic, thus illustrating another tendency of the time. They were added to and imitated by other writers, including =John Earle (1601–65)=.
=5. Robert Burton (1577–1640)= was the son of a country gentleman, and was born in Leicestershire. He was educated at Oxford, where, in holy orders, he passed most of his life.
His famous work, _The Anatomy of Melancholy_, was first issued in 1621, and then constantly revised and reissued. It is an elaborate and discursive study of melancholy, its species and kinds, its causes, results, and cure. The book--labored, saturnine, and fantastic to an extraordinary degree--has exercised a strong fascination over many scholarly minds, including those of Dr. Johnson and Charles Lamb. Its learning is immense and unconventional, being drawn from many rare authors; its humor curiously crabbed, subdued, and ironical; and its “melancholy,” though pervading, is not oppressive. The diction, harsh and unstudied, is rarely obscure; the enormous sentences, packed with quotation and allusion, are loosely knit. Both as a stylist and as a personality Burton occupies his own niche in English literature.
=6. The Sermon-writers.= At the beginning of the seventeenth century the sermon rose to a level of literary importance not hitherto attained, and afterward rarely equaled. We have already mentioned Donne (see p. 102), probably the most notable of his group, and we give space to two other writers.
(_a_) =James Ussher (1581–1656)= was born in Dublin, and was descended from an ancient Protestant family. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and rose to be Bishop of Meath and Archbishop of Armagh (1626). In 1640 he visited England, where, owing to the disturbed state of Ireland, he had to remain for the remainder of his life. His many sermons, discourses, and tracts show learning, adroit argument, and a plain and easy style. His _Chronologia Sacra_ was for a long time the standard work on Biblical chronology.
(_b_) =Joseph Hall (1574–1656)= was educated at Cambridge, took orders, and became a prominent opponent of the Puritans, among whom was Milton. He was appointed Bishop of Exeter (1627) and of Norwich (1641). When the Puritans rose to power Hall’s opinions brought him into disgrace. He was imprisoned, and, though liberated, forbidden to preach. He died in retirement.
Hall’s earliest work was in verse, and consisted of a series of satires called _Virgidemiarum_ (1597), which were condemned by the Church as being licentious. His theological and devotional works, the product of his later years, are very numerous, and include tracts, sermons, and treatises. Though he is often shallow and voluble, he writes with literary grace. He is without doubt the most literary of the theologians of the time.
=7. The Translators.= The zeal for learning which was such a prominent feature of the early Elizabethan times was strongly apparent in the frequent translations. This class of literature had several curious characteristics. The translators cared little for verbal accuracy, and sometimes were content to translate from a translation, say from a French version of a Latin text. The translators, moreover, borrowed from each other, and repeated the errors of their fellows. These habits deprived their work of any great pretensions to scholarship; but they were eager adventurers into the new realms of learning, and to a great extent they reproduced the spirit, if not the letter, of their originals.
One of the first and most popular of the translations was North’s _Diall of Princes_ (1557), from an Italian original. North also translated Plutarch’s _Lives_ (1579), a work that had much influence upon Shakespeare and other dramatists. Other classical translations were those of Virgil, done by =Phaer= in 1558 and =Stanyhurst= in 1583, and of Ovid, by =Turberville= in 1567 and by =Chapman= in 1595. Chapman’s Translation of Homer (1596) is perhaps the most famous of them all. It is composed in long, swinging lines, and is lively, audacious, and pleasing.
=8. The Pamphleteers.= All through this period there is a flood of short tracts on religion, politics, and literature. It was the work of a host of literary hacks who earned a precarious existence in London. These men represented a new class of writer. The Reformation had closed the Church to them; the growth of the universities and of learning continually increased their numbers. In later times journalism and its kindred careers supplied them with a livelihood; but at this time they eked out their existence by writing plays and squabbling among themselves in the pages of broadsheets.
In its buoyancy and vigor, its quaint mixture of truculence and petulance, Elizabethan pamphleteering is refreshingly boyish and alive. It is usually keenly satirical, and in style it is unformed and uncouth. The most notorious of the pamphleteers were =Thomas Nash (1567–1601)=, =Robert Greene (1560–92)=, and =Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)=. We quote a well-known passage from a pamphlet of Greene, in which he contrives to mingle praise of his friends with sly gibes at one who is probably Shakespeare. The style is typical of the pamphlets.
And thou,[100] no less deserving than the other two,[101] in some things rarer, in nothing inferior; driven (as myself) to extreme shifts, a little have I to say to thee; and were it not an idolatrous oath, I would swear by sweet St. George, thou art unworthy better hap, sith thou dependest on so mean a stay. Base-minded men all three of you, if by my misery ye be not warned; for unto none of you (like me) sought those burs to cleave,--those puppets, I mean,--that speak from our mouths,--those antics garnished in our colours. Is it not strange that I, to whom they all have been beholden,--is it not like that you, to whom they all have been beholden,--shall (were ye in that case that I am now) be both at once of them forsaken? Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger’s heart wrapt in a player’s hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank-verse as the best of you: and being an absolute _Johannes factotum_, is in his own conceit the only Shakescene in a country. Oh, that I might entreat your rare wits to be employed in more profitable courses, and let those apes imitate your past excellence, and never more acquaint them with your admired inventions! I know the best husband of you all will never prove an usurer, and the kindest of them all will never prove a kind nurse: yet, whilst you may, seek you better masters; for it is pity men of such rare wits should be subject to the pleasures of such rude grooms. _A Groatsworth of Wit bought with a Million of Repentance_
THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS
At the beginning of the Elizabethan age English literary forms were still to a large extent in the making; at the end of the period there is a rich and varied store of most of the chief literary species. All that can be done here is to give the barest outline of this development.
=1. Poetry.= (_a_) _Lyrical Poetry._ The temper of the age was suited to the lyrical mood, and so the abundance of the lyric is very great. It begins with the first efforts of Wyat and Surrey (1557); it continues through the dramas in all their stages; and it appears in the numerous miscellanies of the period. Then the lyrical impulse is carried on without a break into the melodies of Campion and the darker moods of Donne. The forms of the lyric are many, and on the whole its notes are musical, wild, and natural.
An interesting sub-species of the lyric is the _sonnet_. We have seen how it took two forms--the Italian or Petrarchan form, and the English or Shakespearian type. During this period both kinds flourished, the English kind to a greater degree. Wyat began (1557) with a group of the Italian type; Surrey introduced the English form. Then the sonnet, in one or other of its two forms, was continued by Sidney in _Astrophel and Stella_ (published in 1591), by Spenser, by Shakespeare, by Daniel in _Delia_ (1592), and by Watson in _Heoatompathia, or Passionate Century of Sonnets_ (1582). Later in the period the sonnet was less popular, though Drayton wrote at least one of great power.
(_b_) _Descriptive and Narrative Poetry._ This is a convenient title for a large and important class of poems. In this period it begins with such works as Sackville’s _Induction_ (1555), and continues with Marlowe’s _Hero and Leander_ (1598) and Shakespeare’s _Venus and Adonis_ (1593) and _The Rape of Lucrece_ (1594). It culminates in the sumptuous allegorical poetry of Spenser; and it begins its decline with the Spenserians of the type of the Fletchers and with Drayton’s _Endimion and Phœbe_ (1600). The pastoral, which is a kind of descriptive poem, is seen in Spenser’s _Shepherd’s Calendar_ (1579), in Browne’s _Britannia’s Pastorals_ (1613), and in Drayton. Almost purely descriptive poetry is represented in Drayton’s _Polyolbion_ (1612); and a more strongly narrative type is the same poet’s _England’s Heroical Epistles_ (1597). All these poems are distinguished by strong descriptive power, freshness of fancy, and sometimes by positive genius of style.
(_c_) _Religious_, _satirical_, and _didactic poetry_ cannot take a position equal in importance to the rest. During the period the satirical intent is quite strong, but it does not produce great poetry. Gascoigne’s _Steel Glass_ (1576) is one of the earliest satires; and it is followed by Donne’s _Satires_ (1593) and Hall’s _Satires_ (1597). Drayton’s _Harmony of the Church_ (1591) is religious in motive; so are several poems of Donne, and also many of those of the Jesuit =Robert Southwell (1561–95)=.
=2. Drama.= The opening of the Elizabethan period saw the drama struggling into maturity. The early type of the time was scholarly in tone and aristocratic in authorship. An example of the earliest type of playwright is =Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke (1554–1628)=, who distinguished himself both as a dramatic and lyrical poet.
To this stage succeeded that of Shakespeare, which covered approximately the years 1595 to 1615. Of this drama all we can say here is that it is the crown and flower of the Elizabethan literary achievement, and embodies almost the entire spirit both of drama and poetry.
The decline begins with Jonson, and continues with Beaumont and Fletcher, Dekker, Heywood, and the other dramatists mentioned in this chapter. The decline is made clear in several ways: in the narrowing of the ample Shakespearian motive, which comprises all mankind, into themes of temporary, local, and fragmentary importance; in the lack of creative power in the characterization, resulting (as in Jonson) in mere types or “humors,” or (as in Dekker and Fletcher) in superficial improvisation, or in ponderous tragical figures (as in Webster and Tourneur); and lastly, in the degradation of the style, which will be noted below. Sometimes the decline is gilded with delicate fancy, as in Fletcher’s _Faithful Shepherdess_, or in the exquisite _Parliament of Bees_ (1607) by =John Day (1574–1640)=; but the grace and charm of such plays cannot conceal the falling-off in power and imagination.
With regard to the development of the different dramatic types, we have already noted that tragedy developed first; in Shakespeare all kinds received attention, tragedy most of all. In post-Shakespearian drama light comedy was the most popular species, chiefly because the tragic note of exalted pity had degenerated into melodrama and horrors.
A special word is perhaps necessary on the _masque_, which during this time had a brief but brilliant career. The masque is a short dramatic performance composed for some particular festive occasion, such as the marriage or majority of a great man’s son; it is distinguished by ornate stage-setting, by lyrics, music, and dancing, and by allegorical characters. It finds a place in Shakespeare’s _Tempest_ and other plays; it is strongly developed in the works of Jonson, Fletcher, and other poets of the time; and it attains its climax during the next age in the _Comus_ (1637) of Milton.
=3. Prose.= In Elizabethan times the development of prose was slower and slighter than that of poetry.
(_a_) The _essay_, beginning in the pamphlet, character-sketch, and other miscellaneous writing, develops in the work of Bacon. Its rise will be sketched more fully in a future chapter (see p. 268).
(_b_) The _novel_ has some meager but significant beginnings in More’s _Utopia_ (1516), Sidney’s _Arcadia_ (published in 1590), Lyly’s _Euphues_ (1579), Bacon’s _New Atlantis_ (1626), and most of all in Nash’s _The Unfortunate Traveller_ (1594). The rise of the novel is also reserved for a later chapter (see p. 336).
(_c_) _Miscellaneous prose_, in the pamphlets, theological works, sermons, translations, travels, and such abnormalities as Burton’s _Anatomy of Melancholy_ (1621), is exceedingly voluminous and important. We have here a large, loose, and varied mass of English prose, the central exercising-ground of the average prose-writer, that is to be the foundation of many important groups of the future.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE
=1. Poetry.= The period immediately preceding was that of the clumsy poetry of Hawes, Skelton, and their kind; succeeding it is the strength and beauty of Elizabethan poetry. Between these two extremes the different stages of development are fairly well marked.
(_a_) The earliest period (say from 1550–80) is that of Wyat, Surrey, Sidney, and the University Wits. This is the formative and imitative period, during which the dependence upon classical originals is
## particularly strong. The style has the precision and the erratic
character of the diligent pupil. There are few deliberate innovations, and lapses into barbarism are not unknown. In this period appear the sonnet, blank verse, and many of the beautiful lyrical metrical forms. The lyrical style is least restrained by the influence of classical models.
(_b_) The Spenserian and Shakespearian stage (from about 1580 to 1615) is the stage of highest development. The native English genius, having absorbed the lessons of foreign writers, adds to them the youth and ardor of its own spirit. The result is a fullness, freshness, and grandeur of style unequaled in any other period of our literature. There are the lyrics and allegories of Spenser; the poems, dramas, and lyrics of Shakespeare; and the innumerable miscellanies, poems, and plays of other writers. The style is as varied as the poems; but the universal note is the romantic one of power and ease.
(_c_) In the second decade of the seventeenth century the decline is apparent. The inspired phraseology, the wealth and flexibility of vocabulary, and the general bloom of the style pass into the lightness of fancy and the tinkling unsubstantial verse of the nature of Campion’s. Or the high seriousness degenerates into the gloomy manner of the Websterian tragedy. The handling of blank verse is typical of the movement. The sinewy Shakesperian blank verse becomes nerveless; in drama prose is commoner in quantity and coarser in fiber. In the lyric much of the old technical dexterity survives, but the deeper qualities of passion and sincerity are less common and robust.
=2. Prose.= Unlike that of poetry, the style of prose enjoys a steady development, continued from the previous age, and maintained through the Elizabethan age. Euphuism, which appeared early in this epoch, was a kind of literary measles incidental to early growth, and it quickly passed away, leaving the general body of English prose healthier than before. There is an increase in the raw material of prose in the shape of many foreign words that are imported; there is a growing expertness in sentence-and paragraph-construction and in the more delicate graces of style, such as rhythm and melody. The prose of Hooker and Bacon (in his later stages) represents the furthest development of the time. Prose style has yet a great deal to learn, but it is learning fast.
TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS
+----+------------------------------------------+-------------------------+----------------------------------+ | | POETRY | DRAMA | PROSE | |DATE|-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | Lyric |Narrative-Descriptive| Didactic | Comedy | Tragedy | Essay | Narrative | Didactic | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | | | | | | | Ascham | | | | | | | | | | | |1550| | | | | | | | | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | Sackville[102] | | | | | | | |1560|Wyat[103]| Surrey[103] | | | | | | | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |1570| | | | | | | | | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | |Gascoigne[104]| | | | | | |1580| | Spenser[105] | | | | | North[106]| Lyly | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | | | Lyly | Peele | | | | | | | | | Kyd | | | | | | | | | Greene | | | | |1590| | | | Marlowe | | | | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+-------------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | |Daniel | Donne | | Nash | | |Hooker[107]| | | | Shakespeare[108] | | | | Nash | | | | | Marlowe | | Shakespeare | | |Spenser | |1600| | | Drayton | Chapman |Bacon[109] | | | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+-------------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | |Campion| | |Jonson Dekker Shakespeare| | | | | |Donne | | | Marston | | | | | | | | | Jonson | | | | |1610| | G. Fletcher | | Heywood | | | Donne | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+-------------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | Drayton | | Webster | | | | | | | | | Beaumont |Overbury[110]| | | | | | | | Fletcher | | | | |1620| | | | | | | | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | | | Middleton | | |Bacon | | | | | | | | | |Ussher | | | | | | | | | |Burton | |1630| | | | | | | Bacon |Hall | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+ | | | P. Fletcher | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |1640| | | | | | | | | +----+-------+---------------------+------------+------------+------------+-----------+-----------+----------+
EXERCISES
1. The following extracts illustrate the growth of the English lyric from earliest times. Arrange the passages approximately in order of development, adding dates when it seems possible. Write a note on the style of each, and point out in what respects it is typical of its author or period.
(1) Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. JONSON, _Epicene_
(2) Son icche herde that mirie note Thider I drogh; I fond her in an herber swot Under a bough With joie enough. Son I asked: “Thou mirie mai Hwi sinkestou ai?” _Nou sprinkes the sprai, All for love icche am so seek That slepen I ne mai._ _Old Song_
(3) A blissful life thou says I lead; Thou wouldest know thereof the stage. Thou wost well when thy Perle con schede, I was full young and tender of age; But my Lord the Lomb, through his God-hede, He took myself to his maryage, Coround me queen in bliss to brede[111] In length of dayes that ever shall wage. And seised in all his heritage His lef[112] is; I am wholly his; His praise, his price, and his parage Is root and ground of all my bliss. _Pearl_
(4) Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? O sweet content! Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? O punishment! Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed To add to golden numbers, golden numbers? O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! Work apace, apace, apace, apace; Honest labour bears a lovely face; Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!
Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring? O sweet content! Swim’st thou in wealth, yet sink’st in thine own tears? O punishment! Then he that patiently want’s burden bears No burden bears, but is a king, a king! O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! Work apace, apace, apace, apace; Honest labour bears a lovely face; Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! DEKKER, _Sweet Content_
2. In the following passages, which illustrate the development of blank verse, examine the metrical features (such as the scansion, variation of the pause, and the melody) of each, and mention if any improvement is apparent.
(1) It was the time when granted from the gods, The first sleep creeps most sweet in weary folk, Lo, in my dream before mine eyes, methought With rueful cheer I saw where Hector stood (Out of whose eyes gushed streams of tears), Drawn at a car as he of late had been, Distained with bloody dust, whose feet were bowl’n[113] With the strait cords wherewith they haled him. SURREY, _Æneid_, 1557
(2) That age is dead and vanished long ago, Which thought that steel both trusty was and true And needed not a foil of contraries, But shewed all things even as they were in deed. In stead whereof, our curious years can find The crystal glass, which glimpseth brave and bright, And shews the thing much better far than it, Beguiled with foils, of sundry subtle sights So that they seem and covet not to be. GASCOIGNE, _The Steel Glass_, 1576
(3) _Prospero._ Of the king’s ship The mariners, say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o’ the fleet. _Ariel._ Safely in harbour Is the king’s ship: in the deep nook, where once Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid: The mariners all under hatches stow’d; Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour, I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet Which I dispersed, they all have met again And are upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d And his great person perish. SHAKESPEARE, _The Tempest_, 1611
3. Comment upon the style, meter, and general level of excellence shown in the following sonnets. Point out any development that is observable.
(1) The sweet season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale. The nightingale, with feathers new, she sings; The turtle to her mate hath told her tale; Summer is come, for every spray now springs. The hart hath hung his old head on the pale: The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes fleet with new repaired scale; The adder all her slough away she flings; The swift swallow pursueth the flies small; The busy bee her honey how she mings! Winter is worn, that was the flowers’ bale, And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs. SURREY, _To Spring_, 1557
(2) Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharpe his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh nere, Sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough; Sweet is the cyprese, but his rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;[114] Sweet is the broome flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill; So, every sweet, with soure is tempred still, That maketh it be coveted the more: For easie things that may be got at will Most sorts of men doe set but little store. Why then should I accompt of little paine That endlesse pleasure shall unto me gaine! SPENSER, _Amoretti_, 1595
(3) Since there’s no help, come, let us kiss and part,-- Nay, I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of love’s latest breath, When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, --Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou mightest him yet recover! DRAYTON, 1620
4. Hooker’s is sometimes considered to be the most highly developed of Elizabethan prose styles. In the following two extracts examine the vocabulary, sentence-construction, and general competence of the first, and compare it with the second, which was written about two hundred years earlier.
(1) Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice, it being but of high and low in sounds a due proportionable disposition, such notwithstanding is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think that the soul itself by nature is, or hath in it, harmony; a thing which delighteth all ages, and beseemeth all states; a thing as seasonable in grief as in joy; as decent being added unto actions of greatest weight and solemnity, as being used when men most sequester themselves from action. The reason hereof is an admirable facility which music hath to express and represent to the mind, more inwardly than any other sensible mean, the very standing, rising and falling, the very steps and inflections every way, the turns and varieties of all passions whereunto the mind is subject; yea, so to imitate them, that, whether it resemble unto us the same state wherein our minds already are, or a clean contrary, we are not more contentedly by the one confirmed, than changed and led away by the other. In harmony, the very image and character even of virtue and vice is perceived, the mind delighted with their resemblances, and brought by having them often iterated into a love of the things themselves. For which cause there is nothing more contagious and pestilent than some kinds of harmony; than some, nothing more strong and potent unto good. HOOKER, _The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity_, 1592
(2) This Emperor Prester John, when he goeth in to battle, against any other lord, he hath no banners borne before him: but he hath three crosses of gold, fine, great and high, full of precious stones: and every of the crosses be set in a chariot, full richly arrayed. And for to keep every cross, be ordained ten thousand men of arms, and more than a hundred thousand men on foot, in manner as men would keep a standard in our countries, when that we be in land of war. And this number of folk is without the principal host, and without wings ordained for the battle. And when he hath no war, but rideth with a privy retinue, then he hath borne before him but a cross of tree, without peinture, and without gold or silver or precious stones; in remembrance, that Jesu Christ suffered death upon a cross of tree. MANDEVILLE, _Travels_, 1400
5. In what respects is each of the following extracts typical of its author and its age? Write a very brief appreciation of the style of each.
(1) Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.-- Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in those lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sacked; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. MARLOWE, _Doctor Faustus_
(2) Iffida, the water standing in her eyes, clasping my hand in hers, with a sad countenance answered me thus:
“My good Fidus, if the increasing of my sorrows, might mitigate the extremity of thy sickness, I could be content to resolve myself into tears to rid thee of trouble: but the making of a fresh wound in my body is nothing to the healing of a festered sore in thy bowels: for that such diseases are to be cured in the end, by the names of their original. For as by basil the scorpion is engendered and by the means of the same herb destroyed: so love which by time and fancy is bred in an idle head, is by time and fancy banished from the heart: or as the salamander which, being a long space nourished in the fire, at the last quencheth it, so affection having taken hold of the fancy, and living as it were in the mind of the lover, in tract of time altereth and changeth the heat, and turneth it to chillness. LYLY, _Euphues and his England_
(3) Cozen german to idleness, and a concomitant cause which goes hand in hand with it, is _nimia solitudo_, too much solitariness--by the testimony of all physicians, cause and symptom both; but as it is here put for a cause, it is either coact, enforced, or else voluntary. Enforced solitariness is commonly seen in students, monks, friars, anchorites, that, by their order and course of life, must abandon all company, society of other men, and betake themselves to a private cell; _otio superstitioso seclusi_ (as Bale and Hospinian well term it), such as are the Carthusians of our time, that eat no flesh (by their order), keep perpetual silence, never go abroad; such as live in prison, or some desert place, and cannot have company, as many of our country gentlemen do in solitary houses; they must either be alone without companions, or live beyond their means, and entertain all comers as so many hosts, or else converse with their servants and hinds, such as are unequal, inferior to them, and of a contrary disposition; or else, as some do, to avoid solitariness, spend their time with lewd fellows in taverns, and in ale-houses, and thence addict themselves to some unlawful disports, or dissolute courses. BURTON, _The Anatomy of Melancholy_
(4) Mr Peter, as one somewhat severe of nature, said plainly, that the rod only was the sword that must keep the school in obedience, and the scholar in good order. Mr Wotton, a man of mild nature, with soft voice, and few words, inclined to Mr Secretary’s judgment, and said, “In mine opinion the school-house should be in deed, as it is called by name, the house of play and pleasure, and not of fear and bondage; and as I do remember, so saith Socrates in one place of Plato. And therefore, if a rod carry the fear of a sword it is no marvel if those that be fearful of nature choose rather to forsake the play, than to stand always within the fear of a sword in a fond man’s handling.” ASCHAM, _The Scholemaster_
(5) Come little babe, come silly soul, Thy father’s shame, thy mother’s grief, Born as I doubt to all our dole, And to thyself unhappy chief: Sing lullaby and lap it warm, Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.
Thou little think’st and less dost know The cause of this thy mother’s moan; Thou want’st the wit to wail her woe, And I myself am all alone; Why dost thou weep, why dost thou wail, And know’st not yet what thou dost ail?
Come little wretch, ah silly heart, Mine only joy; what can I more? If there be any wrong thy smart, That may the destinies implore; ’Twas I, I say, against my will; I wail the time, but be thou still. _A Sweet Lullaby_ (from _The Arbor of Amorous Devices_)
(6) Ere long they come where that same wicked wight His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,[115] Far underneath a craggie clifty pight, Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave, That still for carrion carcases doth crave: On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly Owle, Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle; And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle and howle.
And all about old stockes and stubs of trees, Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seene, Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees; On which had many wretches hanged beene, Whose carcases were scattred on the greene, And throwne about the clifts. Arrived there, That bare-head knight, for dread and dolefull teene, Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare; But th’ other forst him staye, and comforted in feare.
That darksome cave they enter, where they find That cursed man, low sitting on the ground, Musing full sadly in his sullein mind: His griesie lockes, long growen and unbound, Disordered hong about his shoulders round, And his face, through which his hollow eyne Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound; His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine, Were shronke into his jawes, as he did never dine. SPENSER, _The Faerie Queene_
6. What features of Shakespeare’s life and literary work does Arnold refer to in the following sonnet? How far do his statements appear to you inaccurate or exaggerated?
Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask--thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill, Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his stedfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, Spares but the cloudy border of his base To the foil’d searching of mortality; And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-school’d, self-scann’d, self-honour’d, self-secure, Didst tread on earth unguess’d at. Better so! All pains the immortal spirit must endure, All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow, Find their sole speech in that victorious brow. MATTHEW ARNOLD, _Shakespeare_
7. Compare very carefully the two given extracts from Shakespeare’s plays. Observe the handling of each: the simplicity or ornateness of diction, the power of expression, and the strength and flexibility of the blank verse. On these grounds, which would you say was taken from an early and which from a later?
(1) _Cordelia._ He wakes; speak to him.
_Doctor._ Madam, do you: ’tis fittest.
_Cordelia._ How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
_Lear._ You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave: Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
_Cordelia._ Sir, do you know me?
_Lear._ You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?
_Cordelia._ Still, still, far wide!
_Doctor._ He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.
_Lear._ Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight? I am mightily abused. I should e’en die with pity, To see another thus. I know not what to say. I will not swear these are my hands: let’s see; I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured Of my condition! _King Lear_
(2) _Portia._ It must not be. There is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established: ’Twill be recorded for a precedent, And many an error by the same example Will rush into the state. It cannot be.
_Shylock._ A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!
_Portia._ I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
_Shylock._ Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
_Portia._ Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offered thee.
_Shylock._ An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven. Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice.
_Portia._ Why, this bond is forfeit; And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant’s heart.--Be merciful: Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. _The Merchant of Venice_
8. Explain and discuss the following statements concerning Shakespeare. Whenever you can, illustrate with examples from the plays.
(1) He was not of an age, but for all time.--JONSON.
(2) Panting time toiled after him in vain.--JOHNSON.
(3) The genius of Shakespeare was an innate universality. KEATS.
(4) His plays are distinguished by signal adherence to the great laws of nature, that all opposites tend to attract and temper each other.--COLERIDGE.
(5) The striking peculiarity of Shakespeare’s mind was its power of communicating with other minds, so that it contained a universe of thought and feeling within itself.--HAZLITT.
9. What were the signs of the “dramatic decline” that set in after Shakespeare? Mention some dramatists whose plays show this decline.
10. Try to account for the weakness of English prose when compared with the poetry of the time.
(1) No single prose writer of the time, not even Hooker, holds the same rank that Spenser holds in poetry.--SAINTSBURY.
(2) The poets and dramatists of the age of Elizabeth completed their work quickly, and attained, by leaps and bounds, to the consummate perfection of their diction. But prose style grows more slowly; and its growth is hindered rather than quickened by the very variety of its subject.--CRAIK.
11. In what respects is the title “Elizabethan literature” open to objection when it is applied to the matter of this chapter? Suggest other titles.
12. To what extent were the University Wits immature dramatists? What was their contribution to the English drama?
13. “The age of Elizabeth made the most of both native and classical elements.” Discuss this statement.
14. It is frequently stated that during the second half of the Elizabethan period drama weakened and prose strengthened. Confirm or confute the statement.
15. How was this time “the Golden Age of the lyric”?
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