CHAPTER VTHE AGE OF ELIZABETH

CHAPTER VTHE AGE OF ELIZABETH

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) | | | | | | | | |

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 ofHakluyt (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.

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 historicalsituation 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 bookof the day was Gosson’s virulentSchool of Abuse(1579), to which Sidney replied with hisApologie 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.

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 hisProthalamion, 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 encouraginghim 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 ofThe 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 isThe 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, includingThe Ruins of Time,The Tears of the Muses,Mother Hubberd’s Tale, andThe Ruins of Rome, appeared in 1591; in 1595 he published hisAmoretti, a series of eighty-eight sonnets celebrating the progress of his love;Epithalamion, a magnificent ode, rapturously jubilant, written in honor of his marriage; andColin Clouts Come Home Againe, somewhatwordy, but containing some interesting personal details. In 1596 appeared hisFour HymnsandProthalamion, 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 inMother Hubberd’s Tale, the shorter poems afford him scope for his satirical bent, which can be sharp and censorious.

We quote from theEpithalamion, 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 mayThe sacred ceremonies there partake,The which do endless matrimony make;And let the roaring organs loudly playThe 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.

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 mayThe sacred ceremonies there partake,The which do endless matrimony make;And let the roaring organs loudly playThe 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.

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 mayThe sacred ceremonies there partake,The which do endless matrimony make;And let the roaring organs loudly playThe 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.

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. CalledA 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 Queeneis 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 usesblendforblind,kestforcast, andvildeforvile. 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 sowneOf 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 lyesWrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.

(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 sowneOf 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 lyesWrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.

(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 sowneOf 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 lyesWrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.

(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 shadeAn 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 seardIn 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 oldA 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 eyeAnd covetous desire with his huge threasury.And round about him lay on every sideGreat heapes of gold that never could be spent;Of which some were rude owre,[93]not purifideOf 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 bareThe antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.

(2) At last he came unto a gloomy shade,Covered with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,Whereas he sitting found in secret shadeAn 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 seardIn 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 oldA 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 eyeAnd covetous desire with his huge threasury.And round about him lay on every sideGreat heapes of gold that never could be spent;Of which some were rude owre,[93]not purifideOf 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 bareThe antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.

(2) At last he came unto a gloomy shade,Covered with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,Whereas he sitting found in secret shadeAn 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 seardIn smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.

(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 oldA 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 eyeAnd covetous desire with his huge threasury.

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 sideGreat heapes of gold that never could be spent;Of which some were rude owre,[93]not purifideOf 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 bareThe antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.

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.

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 calledTottel’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. HisSatiresare composed in the Italianterza 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 inTottel’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 careThrowgh out the vaines doth nourishe ay the plage,Surprised with blind flame, and to her mindeGan to resort the prowes of the manAnd honor of his race, whiles on her brestImprinted stake his wordes and forme of face,Ne to her lymmes care graunteth quiet rest.The next morowe with Phœbus lampe the ertheAlightned clere, and eke the dawninge dayeThe shadowe danke gan from the pole remove.

But now the wounded quene with heavie careThrowgh out the vaines doth nourishe ay the plage,Surprised with blind flame, and to her mindeGan to resort the prowes of the manAnd honor of his race, whiles on her brestImprinted stake his wordes and forme of face,Ne to her lymmes care graunteth quiet rest.The next morowe with Phœbus lampe the ertheAlightned clere, and eke the dawninge dayeThe shadowe danke gan from the pole remove.

But now the wounded quene with heavie careThrowgh out the vaines doth nourishe ay the plage,Surprised with blind flame, and to her mindeGan to resort the prowes of the manAnd honor of his race, whiles on her brestImprinted stake his wordes and forme of face,Ne to her lymmes care graunteth quiet rest.The next morowe with Phœbus lampe the ertheAlightned clere, and eke the dawninge dayeThe shadowe danke gan from the pole remove.

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 InductionandThe Complaint of Henry, Duke of Buckingham, appeared in a miscellany calledThe 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 ofThe Faerie Queene.

Sackville collaborated with Norton in the early tragedy ofGorboduc(see p.77).

We add a few stanzas fromThe Inductionto 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 assignedTo rest, when that the Sisters had untwinedHis vital thread, and ended with their knifeThe 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 tormentWith 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.

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 assignedTo rest, when that the Sisters had untwinedHis vital thread, and ended with their knifeThe 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 tormentWith 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.

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 assignedTo rest, when that the Sisters had untwinedHis vital thread, and ended with their knifeThe fleeting course of fast-declining life.

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 tormentWith 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!

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.

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 tragedyJocasta(1566), a landmark in the growth of the drama (see p.77); hisSupposes(1566), an important early comedy which was the basis of Shakespeare’sTaming of the Shrew; andCertayne 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 calledAstrophel and Stella. Though they arestrongly 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 calledThe Harmony of the Church(1591); then followed a number of long historical poems, which includeEngland’s Heroical EpistlesandThe Barons’ Wars(1603). HisPolyolbionis 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 asThe Man in the MoonandNymphidia, 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 inNymphidia) 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 wereA Booke of Ayres(1601),Songs of Mourning(1613), andTwo 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 encloseOf 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 buyTill “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 killAll that attempt with eye or handThese sacred cherries to come nigh,Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.

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 encloseOf 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 buyTill “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 killAll that attempt with eye or handThese sacred cherries to come nigh,Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.

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.

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 encloseOf 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 buyTill “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 killAll that attempt with eye or handThese sacred cherries to come nigh,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)andGiles 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 isThe 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 theSpenserian, which it resembles except for its omission of the fifth and seventh lines.

Giles’s best-known poem isChrist’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’sParadise 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 withSatires(1593), forcible and picturesque, though crabbed and obscure in language. His other poems includeThe 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 unearthlymusic of word and phrase. Often, and especially in theSatires, 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 isThe 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 theeMighty 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

Death, be not proud, though some have called theeMighty 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

Death, be not proud, though some have called theeMighty 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

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 tothe 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 calledDelia(1592), a romance calledThe Complaint of Rosamund(1592), some long historical poems, such asThe Civil Wars(1595), and a large number of masques, of whichThe Queenes Wake(1610) andHymen’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.Thepoetical miscellanieswhich 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) toTottel’s Miscellany(1557), which contained, among other poems, the pieces of Wyat and Surrey. Other volumes areThe Paradyse of Daynty Devises(1576),A Handfull of Pleasant Delites(1584),The Phœnix Nest(1593), andThe Passionate Pilgrim(1599). The last book contains poems by Shakespeare, Marlowe, and Ralegh. The most important of the miscellanies isEngland’s Helicon(1600), which surpasses all others for fullness, variety, and excellence of contents.

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 agroup 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 asAlexander and Campaspe(1584),Endymion(1592), andThe Woman in the Moongives 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 includeThe 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; andThe 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 wavesAbout the circles of her curious walks,And with their murmur summon easeful sleepTo lay his golden sceptre on her brows.The Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe

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 wavesAbout the circles of her curious walks,And with their murmur summon easeful sleepTo lay his golden sceptre on her brows.The Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe

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 wavesAbout the circles of her curious walks,And with their murmur summon easeful sleepTo lay his golden sceptre on her brows.The Love of King David and Fair Bethsabe

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’sTamburlaine;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; andThe 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’sDido, but his only surviving play isSummer’s Last Will and Testament(1592), a satirical masque. HisJack 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 inHenry VI, and with other dramatists, including Greene. The only surviving play entirely his own isThe 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 withMarlowe, 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 playsThe 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 areSoliman and Perseda(1588),Jeronimo(1592), a kind of prologue toThe Spanish Tragedy, andCornelia(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 eventhe 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, areTamburlaine the Great(1587),Doctor Faustus(1588),The Jew of Malta(1589), andEdward 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 ofDido(1593), and left uncompleted a poor fragment of a play calledThe 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.


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