“‘Let me not live,’ quoth he,‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuffOf younger spirits, whose apprehensive sensesAll but new things disdain; whose judgments areMere fathers of their garments; whose constanciesExpire before their fashions.’ This he wish’d:I after him do after him wish too,Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,I quickly were dissolved from my hive,To give some labourers room.”
“‘Let me not live,’ quoth he,‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuffOf younger spirits, whose apprehensive sensesAll but new things disdain; whose judgments areMere fathers of their garments; whose constanciesExpire before their fashions.’ This he wish’d:I after him do after him wish too,Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,I quickly were dissolved from my hive,To give some labourers room.”
“‘Let me not live,’ quoth he,‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuffOf younger spirits, whose apprehensive sensesAll but new things disdain; whose judgments areMere fathers of their garments; whose constanciesExpire before their fashions.’ This he wish’d:I after him do after him wish too,Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,I quickly were dissolved from my hive,To give some labourers room.”
“‘Let me not live,’ quoth he,
‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions.’ This he wish’d:
I after him do after him wish too,
Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.”
The noble art and sport of Falconry were long the recreation, and, at times, the eager pursuit of men of high birth or position. Various notices, collected by Dr. Nathan Drake, inShakespeare and his Times(vol. i. pp. 255–272), show that Falconry was—
“During the reigns of Elizabeth and James, the most prevalent and fashionable of all amusements;... it descended from the nobility to the gentry and wealthy yeomanry, and no man could then have the smallest pretension to the character of a gentleman who kept not a cast of hawks.”
From joining in this amusement, or from frequently witnessing it, Shakespeare gained his knowledge of the sport and of the technical terms employed in it. We do not even suppose thatour pictorial illustration supplied him with suggestions, and we offer it merely to show that Emblem writers, as well as others, found in falconry the source of many a poetical expression.[158]The Italian we quote from, Giovio’s“Sententiose Imprese”(Lyons, 1562, p. 41), makes it a mark “of the true nobility;” but by adding, “So more important things give place,” implies that it was wrong to let mere amusement occupy the time for serious affairs.
DELLA VERA.NOBILTÀ.Giovio, 1562.Lo ſparbier ſol tra piu falcon portato.Franchi gli fa paſſar per ogni loco,Et par che dica all’ huom triſto & da poco,Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato.
DELLA VERA.NOBILTÀ.
DELLA VERA.NOBILTÀ.
DELLA VERA.
NOBILTÀ.
Giovio, 1562.
Giovio, 1562.
Giovio, 1562.
Lo ſparbier ſol tra piu falcon portato.Franchi gli fa paſſar per ogni loco,Et par che dica all’ huom triſto & da poco,Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato.
Lo ſparbier ſol tra piu falcon portato.Franchi gli fa paſſar per ogni loco,Et par che dica all’ huom triſto & da poco,Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato.
Lo ſparbier ſol tra piu falcon portato.Franchi gli fa paſſar per ogni loco,Et par che dica all’ huom triſto & da poco,Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato.
Lo ſparbier ſol tra piu falcon portato.
Franchi gli fa paſſar per ogni loco,
Et par che dica all’ huom triſto & da poco,
Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato.
Thus we interpret the motto and the stanza,—
“Many falcons the falconer carries so proudThrough every place he makes them pass free;And says to men sorrowing and of low degree,Noble is he, who with virtue’s endowed.”
“Many falcons the falconer carries so proudThrough every place he makes them pass free;And says to men sorrowing and of low degree,Noble is he, who with virtue’s endowed.”
“Many falcons the falconer carries so proudThrough every place he makes them pass free;And says to men sorrowing and of low degree,Noble is he, who with virtue’s endowed.”
“Many falcons the falconer carries so proud
Through every place he makes them pass free;
And says to men sorrowing and of low degree,
Noble is he, who with virtue’s endowed.”
Falconers form part of the retinue of the drama (2 Henry VI., act ii. sc. 1, l. 1, vol. v. p. 132), and the dialogue at St. Albans even illustrates the expression,“Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato,”—
“Q. Marg.Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,I saw not better sport these seven years’ day:Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.K. Henry.But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,And what a pitch she flew above the rest!To see how God in all his creatures works!Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.Suf.No marvel, an it like your majesty,My lord protector’s hawks do tower so well;They know their master likes to be aloft,And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.Glo.My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mindThat mounts no higher than a bird can soar.”
“Q. Marg.Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,I saw not better sport these seven years’ day:Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.K. Henry.But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,And what a pitch she flew above the rest!To see how God in all his creatures works!Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.Suf.No marvel, an it like your majesty,My lord protector’s hawks do tower so well;They know their master likes to be aloft,And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.Glo.My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mindThat mounts no higher than a bird can soar.”
“Q. Marg.Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,I saw not better sport these seven years’ day:Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.K. Henry.But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,And what a pitch she flew above the rest!To see how God in all his creatures works!Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.Suf.No marvel, an it like your majesty,My lord protector’s hawks do tower so well;They know their master likes to be aloft,And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.Glo.My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mindThat mounts no higher than a bird can soar.”
“Q. Marg.Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,
I saw not better sport these seven years’ day:
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
K. Henry.But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!
To see how God in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
Suf.No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector’s hawks do tower so well;
They know their master likes to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.
Glo.My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.”
On many other occasions Shakespeare shows his familiarity with the whole art and mysteries of hawking. Thus Christophero Sly is asked (Taming of the Shrew, Introduction, sc. 2, l. 41, vol. iii. p. 10),—
“Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soarAbove the morning lark.”
“Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soarAbove the morning lark.”
“Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soarAbove the morning lark.”
“Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark.”
And Petruchio, after the supper scene, when he had thrown about the meat and beaten the servants, quietly congratulates himself on having “politicly began his reign” (act iv. sc. 1, l. 174, vol. iii. p. 67),—
“My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged;For then she never looks upon her lure.Another way I have to man my haggard,To make her come and know her keeper’s call,That is, to watch her, as we watch these kitesThat bate and beat and will not be obedient.”
“My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged;For then she never looks upon her lure.Another way I have to man my haggard,To make her come and know her keeper’s call,That is, to watch her, as we watch these kitesThat bate and beat and will not be obedient.”
“My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged;For then she never looks upon her lure.Another way I have to man my haggard,To make her come and know her keeper’s call,That is, to watch her, as we watch these kitesThat bate and beat and will not be obedient.”
“My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged;
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come and know her keeper’s call,
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
That bate and beat and will not be obedient.”
Touchstone, too, inAs You Like It(act iii. sc. 3, 1. 67, vol. ii. p. 427), hooking several comparisons together, introduces hawking among them: “As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock will be nibbling.”
Also inMacbeth(act ii. sc. 4, l. 10, vol. vii. p. 459), after “hours dreadful and things strange,” so “that darkness does the face of earth entomb, when living light should kiss it,” the Old Man declares,—
“’Tis unnatural.Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday lastA falcon towering in her pride of placeWas by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.”
“’Tis unnatural.Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday lastA falcon towering in her pride of placeWas by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.”
“’Tis unnatural.Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday lastA falcon towering in her pride of placeWas by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.”
“’Tis unnatural.
Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last
A falcon towering in her pride of place
Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.”
To renew our youth, like the eagle’s, is an old scriptural expression (Psalms, ciii. 5); and various arc the legends and interpretations belonging to the phrase.[159]We must not wander among these,—but may mention one which is given by Joachim Camerarius,Ex Volatilibus(Emb. 34), for which he quotes Gesner as authority, how in the solar rays, hawks or falcons, throwing off their old feathers, are accustomed to set right their defects, and so to renew their youth.
RENOVATAIVVENTVS.Camerarius, 1596.Exuviis vitii abjectis, decus indue recti,Ad ſolem ut plumas accipiter renovat.i.e.“Sin’s spoils cast off, man righteousness assumes,As in the sun the hawk renews its plumes.”
RENOVATAIVVENTVS.
RENOVATAIVVENTVS.
RENOVATA
IVVENTVS.
Camerarius, 1596.
Camerarius, 1596.
Camerarius, 1596.
Exuviis vitii abjectis, decus indue recti,Ad ſolem ut plumas accipiter renovat.
Exuviis vitii abjectis, decus indue recti,Ad ſolem ut plumas accipiter renovat.
Exuviis vitii abjectis, decus indue recti,Ad ſolem ut plumas accipiter renovat.
Exuviis vitii abjectis, decus indue recti,
Ad ſolem ut plumas accipiter renovat.
i.e.
“Sin’s spoils cast off, man righteousness assumes,As in the sun the hawk renews its plumes.”
“Sin’s spoils cast off, man righteousness assumes,As in the sun the hawk renews its plumes.”
“Sin’s spoils cast off, man righteousness assumes,As in the sun the hawk renews its plumes.”
“Sin’s spoils cast off, man righteousness assumes,
As in the sun the hawk renews its plumes.”
The thought of the sun’s influence in renovating what is decayed is unintentionally advanced by the jealousy of Adriana in theComedy of Errors(act ii. sc. 1, l. 97, vol. i. p. 411), when to her sister Luciana she blames her husband Antipholus of Ephesus,—
“What ruins are in me that can be foundBy him not ruin’d? then is he the groundOf my defeatures. My decayed fairA sunny look of his would soon repair.”
“What ruins are in me that can be foundBy him not ruin’d? then is he the groundOf my defeatures. My decayed fairA sunny look of his would soon repair.”
“What ruins are in me that can be foundBy him not ruin’d? then is he the groundOf my defeatures. My decayed fairA sunny look of his would soon repair.”
“What ruins are in me that can be found
By him not ruin’d? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A sunny look of his would soon repair.”
In theCymbeline(act i. sc. 1, l. 130, vol. ix. p. 167), Posthumus Leonatus, the husband of Imogen, is banished with great fierceness by her father, Cymbeline, King of Britain. Apassage between daughter and father contains the same notion as that in the Emblem of Camerarius,—
“Imo.There cannot be a pinch in deathMore sharp than this is.Cym.O disloyal thing,That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’stA year’s age on me!”
“Imo.There cannot be a pinch in deathMore sharp than this is.Cym.O disloyal thing,That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’stA year’s age on me!”
“Imo.There cannot be a pinch in deathMore sharp than this is.Cym.O disloyal thing,That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’stA year’s age on me!”
“Imo.There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
Cym.O disloyal thing,
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’st
A year’s age on me!”
Nil penna, ſed vſus.Paradin, 1562.
Nil penna, ſed vſus.
Nil penna, ſed vſus.
Nil penna, ſed vſus.
Paradin, 1562.
Paradin, 1562.
Paradin, 1562.
The action of the ostrich in spreading out its feathers and beating the wind while it runs, furnished a device for Paradin (fol. 23), which, with the motto,The feather nothing but the use, he employs against hypocrisy.
Whitney (p. 51) adopts motto, device, and meaning,—
“The Hippocrites, that make so great a showe,Of Sanctitie, and of Religion sounde,Are shaddowes meere, and with out substance goe,And beinge tri’de, are but dissemblers founde.Theise are compar’de, vnto the Ostriche faire,Whoe spreades her winges, yet sealdome tries the aire.”
“The Hippocrites, that make so great a showe,Of Sanctitie, and of Religion sounde,Are shaddowes meere, and with out substance goe,And beinge tri’de, are but dissemblers founde.Theise are compar’de, vnto the Ostriche faire,Whoe spreades her winges, yet sealdome tries the aire.”
“The Hippocrites, that make so great a showe,Of Sanctitie, and of Religion sounde,Are shaddowes meere, and with out substance goe,And beinge tri’de, are but dissemblers founde.Theise are compar’de, vnto the Ostriche faire,Whoe spreades her winges, yet sealdome tries the aire.”
“The Hippocrites, that make so great a showe,
Of Sanctitie, and of Religion sounde,
Are shaddowes meere, and with out substance goe,
And beinge tri’de, are but dissemblers founde.
Theise are compar’de, vnto the Ostriche faire,
Whoe spreades her winges, yet sealdome tries the aire.”
A different application is made in1 Henry IV.(act iv. sc. 1, l. 97, vol. iv. p. 317), yet the figure of the bird with outstretching wings would readily supply the comparison employed by Vernon while speaking to Hotspur of “the nimbled-footed madcap Prince of Wales, and his comrades,”—
“All furnish’d, all in arms;All plumed like estridges that with the windBaited like eagles having lately bathed.”
“All furnish’d, all in arms;All plumed like estridges that with the windBaited like eagles having lately bathed.”
“All furnish’d, all in arms;All plumed like estridges that with the windBaited like eagles having lately bathed.”
“All furnish’d, all in arms;
All plumed like estridges that with the wind
Baited like eagles having lately bathed.”
It must, however, be conceded, according to Douce’s clear annotation (vol. i. p. 435), that “it is by no means certain that this bird (the ostrich) is meant in the present instance.” A line probably is lost from the passage, and if supplied would only the more clearly show that the falcon was intended,—“estrich,” in the old books of falconry, denoting that bird, or, rather, the goshawk. In this sense the word is used inAntony and Cleopatra(act iii. sc. 13, l. 195, vol. ix. p. 100),—
“To be furiousIs to be frighted out of fear; and in that moodThe dove will peck theestridge.”
“To be furiousIs to be frighted out of fear; and in that moodThe dove will peck theestridge.”
“To be furiousIs to be frighted out of fear; and in that moodThe dove will peck theestridge.”
“To be furious
Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood
The dove will peck theestridge.”
Though a fabulous animal, the Unicorn has properties and qualities attributed to it which endear it to writers on Heraldry and on Emblems. These are well, it may with truth be said, finely set forth in Reusner’sEmblems(edition 1581, p. 60), where the creature is made the ensign for the motto,Faith undefiled victorious.
Victrix casta fides.Emblema IV.Reusner, 1581.Caſta pudicitiæ defenſtrix bellua: cornuVnum quæ media fronte, nigrumq́₃quegerit:Theſauros ornans regum, preciumq́₃querependens:(Nam cornu præſens hoc leuat omne malum)Fraude capi nulla, nulla valet arte virorumCallida: nec gladios, nec fera tela pauet:Solius in gremio requieſcens ſpontè puellæ:Fœminea capitur, victa ſopore, manu.i.e.“This creature of maiden modesty protectress pure.In the mid-forehead bears one dark black horn,Kings’ treasures to ornament, and equalling in worth:(For where the horn abides, no evil can be born).Captured nor by guile, nor by crafty art of man,Trembling nor at swords nor iron arms, firm doth it stand;Of choice reposing in the lap of a maiden alone,[160]Should sleep overpower, it is caught by woman’s hand.”
Victrix casta fides.
Victrix casta fides.
Victrix casta fides.
Emblema IV.
Emblema IV.
Emblema IV.
Reusner, 1581.
Reusner, 1581.
Reusner, 1581.
Caſta pudicitiæ defenſtrix bellua: cornuVnum quæ media fronte, nigrumq́₃quegerit:Theſauros ornans regum, preciumq́₃querependens:(Nam cornu præſens hoc leuat omne malum)Fraude capi nulla, nulla valet arte virorumCallida: nec gladios, nec fera tela pauet:Solius in gremio requieſcens ſpontè puellæ:Fœminea capitur, victa ſopore, manu.
Caſta pudicitiæ defenſtrix bellua: cornuVnum quæ media fronte, nigrumq́₃quegerit:Theſauros ornans regum, preciumq́₃querependens:(Nam cornu præſens hoc leuat omne malum)Fraude capi nulla, nulla valet arte virorumCallida: nec gladios, nec fera tela pauet:Solius in gremio requieſcens ſpontè puellæ:Fœminea capitur, victa ſopore, manu.
Caſta pudicitiæ defenſtrix bellua: cornuVnum quæ media fronte, nigrumq́₃quegerit:Theſauros ornans regum, preciumq́₃querependens:(Nam cornu præſens hoc leuat omne malum)Fraude capi nulla, nulla valet arte virorumCallida: nec gladios, nec fera tela pauet:Solius in gremio requieſcens ſpontè puellæ:Fœminea capitur, victa ſopore, manu.
Caſta pudicitiæ defenſtrix bellua: cornu
Vnum quæ media fronte, nigrumq́₃quegerit:
Theſauros ornans regum, preciumq́₃querependens:
(Nam cornu præſens hoc leuat omne malum)
Fraude capi nulla, nulla valet arte virorum
Callida: nec gladios, nec fera tela pauet:
Solius in gremio requieſcens ſpontè puellæ:
Fœminea capitur, victa ſopore, manu.
i.e.
“This creature of maiden modesty protectress pure.In the mid-forehead bears one dark black horn,Kings’ treasures to ornament, and equalling in worth:(For where the horn abides, no evil can be born).Captured nor by guile, nor by crafty art of man,Trembling nor at swords nor iron arms, firm doth it stand;Of choice reposing in the lap of a maiden alone,[160]Should sleep overpower, it is caught by woman’s hand.”
“This creature of maiden modesty protectress pure.In the mid-forehead bears one dark black horn,Kings’ treasures to ornament, and equalling in worth:(For where the horn abides, no evil can be born).Captured nor by guile, nor by crafty art of man,Trembling nor at swords nor iron arms, firm doth it stand;Of choice reposing in the lap of a maiden alone,[160]Should sleep overpower, it is caught by woman’s hand.”
“This creature of maiden modesty protectress pure.In the mid-forehead bears one dark black horn,Kings’ treasures to ornament, and equalling in worth:(For where the horn abides, no evil can be born).Captured nor by guile, nor by crafty art of man,Trembling nor at swords nor iron arms, firm doth it stand;Of choice reposing in the lap of a maiden alone,[160]Should sleep overpower, it is caught by woman’s hand.”
“This creature of maiden modesty protectress pure.
In the mid-forehead bears one dark black horn,
Kings’ treasures to ornament, and equalling in worth:
(For where the horn abides, no evil can be born).
Captured nor by guile, nor by crafty art of man,
Trembling nor at swords nor iron arms, firm doth it stand;
Of choice reposing in the lap of a maiden alone,[160]
Should sleep overpower, it is caught by woman’s hand.”
A volume of tales and wonders might be collected respecting the unicorn; for a sketch of these the article on the subject in thePenny Cyclopædia(vol. xxvi. p. 2) may be consulted. There are the particulars given which Reusner mentions, and the medical virtues of the horn extolled,[161]which, at one time, it is said, made it so estimated that it was worth ten times its weight in gold. It is remarkable that Shakespeare, disposed as he was, occasionally at least, to magnify nature’s marvels, does not dwell on the properties of the unicorn, but rather discredits its existence; for when the strange shapes which Prospero conjures up to serve the banquet for Alonso make their appearance (Tempest, act iii. sc. 3, l. 21, vol. i. p. 50), Sebastian avers,—
“Now I will believeThat there are unicorns; that in ArabiaThere is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnixAt this hour reigning there.”
“Now I will believeThat there are unicorns; that in ArabiaThere is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnixAt this hour reigning there.”
“Now I will believeThat there are unicorns; that in ArabiaThere is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnixAt this hour reigning there.”
“Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnix
At this hour reigning there.”
Timon of Athens (act iv. sc. 3, 1. 331, vol. vii. p. 281) just hints at the animal’s disposition: “Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury.”
Decius Brutus, inJulius Cæsar(act ii. sc. 1, l. 203, vol. vii. p. 347), vaunts of his power to influence Cæsar, and among other things names the unicorn as a wonder to bring him to the Capitol. The conspirators doubt whether Cæsar will come forth;—
“Never fear that: if he be so resolved,I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hearThat unicorns may be betray’d with trees,And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.”
“Never fear that: if he be so resolved,I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hearThat unicorns may be betray’d with trees,And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.”
“Never fear that: if he be so resolved,I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hearThat unicorns may be betray’d with trees,And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.”
“Never fear that: if he be so resolved,
I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betray’d with trees,
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.”
The humorous ballad in thePercy Reliques(vol. iv. p. 198), written it is supposed close upon Shakespeare’s times, declares,—
“Old stories tell, how HerculesA dragon slew at Lerna,With seven heads and fourteen eyesTo see and well discern-a:But he had a club, this dragon to drub,Or he had ne’er done it. I warrant ye.”
“Old stories tell, how HerculesA dragon slew at Lerna,With seven heads and fourteen eyesTo see and well discern-a:But he had a club, this dragon to drub,Or he had ne’er done it. I warrant ye.”
“Old stories tell, how HerculesA dragon slew at Lerna,With seven heads and fourteen eyesTo see and well discern-a:But he had a club, this dragon to drub,Or he had ne’er done it. I warrant ye.”
“Old stories tell, how Hercules
A dragon slew at Lerna,
With seven heads and fourteen eyes
To see and well discern-a:
But he had a club, this dragon to drub,
Or he had ne’er done it. I warrant ye.”
It is curious that the device in Corrozet’sHecatomgraphieof the Dragon of Lerna should figure forth, in the multiplication of processes or forms, what Hamlet terms “the law’s delay.”
Corrozet, 1540.
Corrozet, 1540.
Corrozet, 1540.
Corrozet, 1540.
That is the very subject against which even Hercules,—“qu’ aqerre honneur par ses nobles conquestes,”—is called intorequisition to rid men of the nuisance. We need not quote in full so familiar a narrative, and which Corrozet embellishes with twenty-four lines of French verses,—but content ourselves with a free rendering of his quatrain,—
“All clever though a man may be in various tricks of law,Though he may think unto the end, his suit contains no flaw,Yet up there spring forms three or four with which he hardly copes,And lawyers’ talk and lawyers’ fees dash down his fondest hopes.”
“All clever though a man may be in various tricks of law,Though he may think unto the end, his suit contains no flaw,Yet up there spring forms three or four with which he hardly copes,And lawyers’ talk and lawyers’ fees dash down his fondest hopes.”
“All clever though a man may be in various tricks of law,Though he may think unto the end, his suit contains no flaw,Yet up there spring forms three or four with which he hardly copes,And lawyers’ talk and lawyers’ fees dash down his fondest hopes.”
“All clever though a man may be in various tricks of law,
Though he may think unto the end, his suit contains no flaw,
Yet up there spring forms three or four with which he hardly copes,
And lawyers’ talk and lawyers’ fees dash down his fondest hopes.”
It is not, however, with such speciality that Shakespeare uses this tale respecting Hercules and the Hydra. On the occasion serving, the questions may be asked, as inHamlet(act v. sc. 1, l. 93, vol. viii. p. 154), “Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery?”
But simply by way of allusion the Hydra is introduced; as in the account of the battle of Shrewsbury (1 Henry IV.act v. sc. 4, l. 25, vol. iv. p. 342), Douglas had been fighting with one whom he thought the king, and comes upon “another king:” “they grow,” he declares, “like Hydra’s heads.”
InOthello(act ii. sc. 3, l. 290, vol. vii. p. 498), some time after the general had said to him (l. 238),—
“Cassio, I love thee;But never more be officer of mine,”—
“Cassio, I love thee;But never more be officer of mine,”—
“Cassio, I love thee;But never more be officer of mine,”—
“Cassio, I love thee;
But never more be officer of mine,”—
Cassio says to Iago,—
“I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard!Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all.”
“I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard!Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all.”
“I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard!Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all.”
“I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard!
Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all.”
So of the change which suddenly came over the Prince of Wales (Henry V., act i. sc. 1, l. 35, vol. iv. p. 493), on his father’s death, it is said,—
“Never Hydra-headed wilfulnessSo soon did lose his seat and all at onceAs in this king.”
“Never Hydra-headed wilfulnessSo soon did lose his seat and all at onceAs in this king.”
“Never Hydra-headed wilfulnessSo soon did lose his seat and all at onceAs in this king.”
“Never Hydra-headed wilfulness
So soon did lose his seat and all at once
As in this king.”
This section of our subject is sufficiently ample, or we might press into our service a passage fromTimon of Athens(act iv. sc. 3, l. 317, vol. vii. p. 281), in which the question is asked, “What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?” and the answer is, “Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.”
In the wide range of the pre-Shakespearean Emblematists and Fabulists we might peradventure find a parallel to each animal that is named (l. 324),—
“If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee: if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner[162]... wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse: wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence.”
And so may we take warning, and make our defence for writing so much,—it is the absence of far more that might be gathered,—
“Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’Like the poor cat i’ the adage.”Macbeth, act i. sc. 7, l. 44.
“Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’Like the poor cat i’ the adage.”Macbeth, act i. sc. 7, l. 44.
“Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’Like the poor cat i’ the adage.”Macbeth, act i. sc. 7, l. 44.
“Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’
Like the poor cat i’ the adage.”
Macbeth, act i. sc. 7, l. 44.
Aneau, 1552.
Aneau, 1552.
Aneau, 1552.
Section VII.EMBLEMS FOR POETIC IDEAS.
ALTHOUGH many persons may maintain that the last two or three examples from the Naturalist’s division of our subject ought to be reserved as Emblems to illustrate Poetic Ideas, the animals themselves may be inventions of the imagination, but the properties assigned to them appear less poetic than in the instances which are now to follow. The question, however, is of no great importance, as this is not a work on Natural History, and a strictly scientific arrangement is not possible when poets’ fancies are the guiding powers.
How finely and often how splendidly Shakespeare makes use of the symbolical imagery of his art, a thousand instances might be brought to show. Three or four only are required to make plain our meaning. One, fromAll’s Well that Ends Well(act i. sc. 1, l. 76, vol. iii. p. 112), is Helena’s avowal to herself of her absorbing love for Bertram,—
“My imaginationCarries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.I am undone: there is no living, none,If Bertram be away. ’Twere all oneThat I should love a bright particular starAnd think to wed it, he is so above me:In his bright radiance and collateral lightMight I be comforted, not in his sphere.The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:The hind that would be mated by the lionMust die of love. ’Twas pretty, though a plague,To see him every hour; to sit and drawHis arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,In our heart’s table; heart too capableOf every line and trick of his sweet favour:But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancyMust sanctify his reliques.”
“My imaginationCarries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.I am undone: there is no living, none,If Bertram be away. ’Twere all oneThat I should love a bright particular starAnd think to wed it, he is so above me:In his bright radiance and collateral lightMight I be comforted, not in his sphere.The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:The hind that would be mated by the lionMust die of love. ’Twas pretty, though a plague,To see him every hour; to sit and drawHis arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,In our heart’s table; heart too capableOf every line and trick of his sweet favour:But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancyMust sanctify his reliques.”
“My imaginationCarries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.I am undone: there is no living, none,If Bertram be away. ’Twere all oneThat I should love a bright particular starAnd think to wed it, he is so above me:In his bright radiance and collateral lightMight I be comforted, not in his sphere.The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:The hind that would be mated by the lionMust die of love. ’Twas pretty, though a plague,To see him every hour; to sit and drawHis arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,In our heart’s table; heart too capableOf every line and trick of his sweet favour:But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancyMust sanctify his reliques.”
“My imagination
Carries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.
I am undone: there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. ’Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Might I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die of love. ’Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart’s table; heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his reliques.”
Another instance shall be fromTroilus and Cressida(act iii. sc. 3, l. 145, vol. vi. p. 198). Neglected by his allies, Achilles demands, “What, are my deeds forgot?” and Ulysses pours forth upon him the great argument, that to preserve fame and honour active exertion is continually demanded,—
“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his backWherein he puts alms for oblivion,A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour’dAs fast as they are made, forgot as soonAs done: perseverance, dear my lord,Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hangQuite out of fashion, like a rusty mailIn monumental mockery.”
“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his backWherein he puts alms for oblivion,A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour’dAs fast as they are made, forgot as soonAs done: perseverance, dear my lord,Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hangQuite out of fashion, like a rusty mailIn monumental mockery.”
“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his backWherein he puts alms for oblivion,A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour’dAs fast as they are made, forgot as soonAs done: perseverance, dear my lord,Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hangQuite out of fashion, like a rusty mailIn monumental mockery.”
“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour’d
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery.”
And so on, with inimitable force and beauty, until the crowning thoughts come (l. 165),—
“Time is like a fashionable hostThat slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,And with his arms outstretch’d, as he would fly,Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seekRemuneration for the thing it was;For beauty, wit,High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,Love, friendship, charity, are subjects allTo envious and calumniating time.One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,Though they are made and moulded of things past,And give to dust that is a little giltMore laud than gilt o’er-dusted.”
“Time is like a fashionable hostThat slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,And with his arms outstretch’d, as he would fly,Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seekRemuneration for the thing it was;For beauty, wit,High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,Love, friendship, charity, are subjects allTo envious and calumniating time.One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,Though they are made and moulded of things past,And give to dust that is a little giltMore laud than gilt o’er-dusted.”
“Time is like a fashionable hostThat slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,And with his arms outstretch’d, as he would fly,Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seekRemuneration for the thing it was;For beauty, wit,High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,Love, friendship, charity, are subjects allTo envious and calumniating time.One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,Though they are made and moulded of things past,And give to dust that is a little giltMore laud than gilt o’er-dusted.”
“Time is like a fashionable host
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,
And with his arms outstretch’d, as he would fly,
Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;
That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things past,
And give to dust that is a little gilt
More laud than gilt o’er-dusted.”
As a last instance, from theWinter’s Tale(act iv. sc. 4, l. 135, vol. iii. p. 383), take Florizel’s commendation of his beloved Perdita,—
“What you doStill betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,I’ld have you do it ever: when you sing,I’ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms.Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish youA wave o’ the sea, that you might ever doNothing but that; move still, still so,And own no other function: each your doing.So singular in each particular,Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,That all your acts are queens.”
“What you doStill betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,I’ld have you do it ever: when you sing,I’ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms.Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish youA wave o’ the sea, that you might ever doNothing but that; move still, still so,And own no other function: each your doing.So singular in each particular,Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,That all your acts are queens.”
“What you doStill betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,I’ld have you do it ever: when you sing,I’ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms.Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish youA wave o’ the sea, that you might ever doNothing but that; move still, still so,And own no other function: each your doing.So singular in each particular,Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,That all your acts are queens.”
“What you do
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I’ld have you do it ever: when you sing,
I’ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms.
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you
A wave o’ the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,
And own no other function: each your doing.
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.”
Our Prelude we may take from Le Bey de Batilly’sEmblems(Francofurti1596, Emb. 51), in which with no slight zeal he celebrates “The Glory of Poets.” For subject he takes “The Christian Muse” of his Jurisconsult friend, Peter Poppæus of Barraux, near Chambery.
POETARVM GLORIA.De Batilly, 1596.
POETARVM GLORIA.
POETARVM GLORIA.
POETARVM GLORIA.
De Batilly, 1596.
De Batilly, 1596.
De Batilly, 1596.
With the sad fate of Icarus, Le Bey contrasts the far different condition of Poets,—
“Quos Phœbus ad aurea cœliLimina sublimis Iouis omnipotentis in aulaSistit, & ætherei monstrat commercia cœtus;Et sacri vates & Diuûm cura vocantur.Quos etiam sunt qui numen habere putent.”
“Quos Phœbus ad aurea cœliLimina sublimis Iouis omnipotentis in aulaSistit, & ætherei monstrat commercia cœtus;Et sacri vates & Diuûm cura vocantur.Quos etiam sunt qui numen habere putent.”
“Quos Phœbus ad aurea cœliLimina sublimis Iouis omnipotentis in aulaSistit, & ætherei monstrat commercia cœtus;Et sacri vates & Diuûm cura vocantur.Quos etiam sunt qui numen habere putent.”
“Quos Phœbus ad aurea cœli
Limina sublimis Iouis omnipotentis in aula
Sistit, & ætherei monstrat commercia cœtus;
Et sacri vates & Diuûm cura vocantur.
Quos etiam sunt qui numen habere putent.”
i.e.
“Whom at heaven’s golden threshold,Within the halls of lofty Jove omnipotentPhœbus doth place, and to them clearly showsThe intercourses of ethereal companies.Both holy prophets and the care of godsAre poets named; and those there are who thinkThat they possess the force of power divine.”
“Whom at heaven’s golden threshold,Within the halls of lofty Jove omnipotentPhœbus doth place, and to them clearly showsThe intercourses of ethereal companies.Both holy prophets and the care of godsAre poets named; and those there are who thinkThat they possess the force of power divine.”
“Whom at heaven’s golden threshold,Within the halls of lofty Jove omnipotentPhœbus doth place, and to them clearly showsThe intercourses of ethereal companies.Both holy prophets and the care of godsAre poets named; and those there are who thinkThat they possess the force of power divine.”
“Whom at heaven’s golden threshold,
Within the halls of lofty Jove omnipotent
Phœbus doth place, and to them clearly shows
The intercourses of ethereal companies.
Both holy prophets and the care of gods
Are poets named; and those there are who think
That they possess the force of power divine.”
In vigorous prose Le Bey declares “their home of glory is the world itself, and for them honour without death abides.” Then personally to his friend Poppæus he says,—
“Onward, and things not to be feared fear not thou, who speakest nothing little or of humble measure, nothing mortal. While the pure priest of the Muses and of Phœbus with no weak nor unpractised wing through the liquid air as prophet stretches to the lofty regions of the clouds. Onward, and let father Phœbus himself bear thee to heaven.”
Now by the side of Le Bey’s laudatory sentences, may be placed the Poet’s glory as sung in theMidsummer Night’s Dream(act v. sc. 1, l. 12, vol. ii. p. 258),—
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;And as imagination bodies forthThe forms of things unknown, the poet’s penTurns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothingA local habitation and a name.”
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;And as imagination bodies forthThe forms of things unknown, the poet’s penTurns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothingA local habitation and a name.”
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;And as imagination bodies forthThe forms of things unknown, the poet’s penTurns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothingA local habitation and a name.”
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
The Swan of silvery whiteness may have been the heraldic badge of the Poets, but that “bird of wonder,” the Phœnix, which,—
“Left sweete Arabie:And on a Cædar in this coastBuilt vp her tombe of spicerie,”[163]—
“Left sweete Arabie:And on a Cædar in this coastBuilt vp her tombe of spicerie,”[163]—
“Left sweete Arabie:And on a Cædar in this coastBuilt vp her tombe of spicerie,”[163]—
“Left sweete Arabie:
And on a Cædar in this coast
Built vp her tombe of spicerie,”[163]—
is the source of many more Poetic ideas. To the Emblem writers as well as to the Poets, who preceded and followed the time of Shakespeare, it really was a constant theme of admiration.
One of the best pictures of what the bird was supposed to be occurs in Freitag’s“Mythologia Ethica”(Antwerp, 1579). The drawing and execution of the device are remarkably fine; and the motto enjoins that “youthful studies should be changed with advancing age,”—
Iuuenilia ſtudia cum prouectioriætate permutata.Freitag, 1579.“Deponite vos, ſecundum priſtinam conuerſationem, veterem hominem, qui corrumpitur ſecundum deſideria erroris.”—Epheſ.4. 22.
Iuuenilia ſtudia cum prouectioriætate permutata.
Iuuenilia ſtudia cum prouectioriætate permutata.
Iuuenilia ſtudia cum prouectiori
ætate permutata.
Freitag, 1579.
Freitag, 1579.
Freitag, 1579.
“Deponite vos, ſecundum priſtinam conuerſationem, veterem hominem, qui corrumpitur ſecundum deſideria erroris.”—Epheſ.4. 22.
After describing the bird, Freitag applies it as a type of the resurrection from the dead; but its special moral is,—
“That ye put off concerning the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts.”
Ancient authors, as well as the comparatively modern, very gravely testify to the lengthened life, and self-renovating power, and splendid beauty of the Phœnix. In the “Euterpe” of Herodotus (bk. ii. 73) we meet with the following narrative,—
“Ἔστι δε καὶ ἄλλος ὄμνις,” κ. τ. λ. “There is another sacred bird, named the Phœnix, which I myself never saw except in picture; for according to the people of Heliopolis, it seldom makes its appearance among them, only once in every 500 years. They state that he comes on the death of his sire. If at all like the picture, this bird may be thus described both in size and shape. Some of his feathers are of the colour of gold; others are red. In outline he is exceedingly similar to the Eagle, and in size also. This bird is said to display an ingenuity of contrivance which to me does not seem credible: he is represented as coming out of Arabia and bringing with him his father, embalmed in myrrh, to the temple of the Sun, and there burying him. The following is the manner in which this is done. First of all he sticks together an egg of myrrh, as much as he can carry, and then if he can bear the burden, this experiment being achieved, he scoops out the egg sufficiently to deposit his sire within; next he fills with fresh myrrh the opening in the egg, by which the body was enclosed; thus the whole mass containing the carcase is still of the same weight. The embalming being completed, he transports him into Egypt and to the temple of the Sun.”
Pliny’s account is brief (bk. xiii. ch. iv.),—
“The bird Phœnix is supposed to have taken that name from the date tree, which in Greek is called φοῖνιξ; for the assurance was made me that the said bird died with the tree, and of itself revived when the tree again sprouted forth.”
Numerous indeed are the authorities of old to the same or a similar purport. They are nearly all comprised in the introductory dissertation of Joachim Camerarius to his device of the Phœnix, and include about eighteen classic writers, ten of the Greek and Latin Fathers, and three modern writers of the sixteenth century.
Appended to the works of Lactantius, an eloquent Christian Father of the latter part of the third century, there is aCarmen De Phœnice,—“Song concerning the Phœnix,”—in elegiac verse, which contains very many of the old tales and legends of “the Arabian bird,” and describes it as,—
“Ipsa sibi proles, suus est pater, & suus hæres:Nutrix ipsa sui, semper alumna sibi.”“She to herself offspring is, and her own father, and her own heir:Nurse is she of herself, and ever her own foster daughter.”
“Ipsa sibi proles, suus est pater, & suus hæres:Nutrix ipsa sui, semper alumna sibi.”“She to herself offspring is, and her own father, and her own heir:Nurse is she of herself, and ever her own foster daughter.”
“Ipsa sibi proles, suus est pater, & suus hæres:Nutrix ipsa sui, semper alumna sibi.”
“Ipsa sibi proles, suus est pater, & suus hæres:
Nutrix ipsa sui, semper alumna sibi.”
“She to herself offspring is, and her own father, and her own heir:Nurse is she of herself, and ever her own foster daughter.”
“She to herself offspring is, and her own father, and her own heir:
Nurse is she of herself, and ever her own foster daughter.”
(SeeLactantii Opera, studio Gallæi, Leyden, 8vo. 1660, pp. 904–923.)
Besides Camerarius, there are at least five Emblematists from whom Shakespeare might have borrowed respecting the Phœnix. Horapollo, whoseHieroglyphicswere edited in 1551; Claude Paradin and Gabriel Symeoni, whoseHeroic Devisesappeared in 1562; Arnold Freitag, in 1579; Nicholas Reusner, in 1581; Geffrey Whitney, in 1586, and Boissard, in 1588,—these all take the Phœnix for one of their emblems, and give a drawing of it in the act of self-sacrifice and self-renovation. They make it typical of many truths and doctrines,—of long duration for the soul, of devoted love to God, of special rarity of character, of Christ’s resurrection from the dead, and of the resurrection of all mankind.
There is a singular application of the Phœnix emblem which existed before and during Shakespeare’s time, but of which I find no pictorial representation until 1633. It is in Henry Hawkins’ rare volume, “Η ΠΑΡΘΕΝΟΣ,”—The Virgin—“Symbolically set forth and enriched with piovs devises and emblemes for the entertainement of Devovt Sovles.” This peculiar emblem bestows upon the bird two hearts, which are united in closest sympathy and in entire oneness of affection and purpose; they are the hearts of the Virgin-Mother and her Son.
Hawkins’ Parthenos, 1633.“Behold, how Death aymes with his mortal dart,And wounds a Phœnix with a twin-like hart.These are the harts of Jesus and his MotherSo linkt in one, that one without the otherIs not entire. They (sure) each others smartMust needs sustaine, though two, yet as one hart.One Virgin-Mother, Phenix of her kind,And we her Sonne without a father find.The Sonne’s and Mothers paines in one are mixt,His side, a Launce, her soule a Sword transfixt.Two harts in one, one Phenix loue contriues:[164]One wound in two, and two in one reuiues.”
Hawkins’ Parthenos, 1633.
Hawkins’ Parthenos, 1633.
Hawkins’ Parthenos, 1633.
“Behold, how Death aymes with his mortal dart,And wounds a Phœnix with a twin-like hart.These are the harts of Jesus and his MotherSo linkt in one, that one without the otherIs not entire. They (sure) each others smartMust needs sustaine, though two, yet as one hart.One Virgin-Mother, Phenix of her kind,And we her Sonne without a father find.The Sonne’s and Mothers paines in one are mixt,His side, a Launce, her soule a Sword transfixt.Two harts in one, one Phenix loue contriues:[164]One wound in two, and two in one reuiues.”
“Behold, how Death aymes with his mortal dart,And wounds a Phœnix with a twin-like hart.These are the harts of Jesus and his MotherSo linkt in one, that one without the otherIs not entire. They (sure) each others smartMust needs sustaine, though two, yet as one hart.One Virgin-Mother, Phenix of her kind,And we her Sonne without a father find.The Sonne’s and Mothers paines in one are mixt,His side, a Launce, her soule a Sword transfixt.Two harts in one, one Phenix loue contriues:[164]One wound in two, and two in one reuiues.”
“Behold, how Death aymes with his mortal dart,And wounds a Phœnix with a twin-like hart.These are the harts of Jesus and his MotherSo linkt in one, that one without the otherIs not entire. They (sure) each others smartMust needs sustaine, though two, yet as one hart.One Virgin-Mother, Phenix of her kind,And we her Sonne without a father find.The Sonne’s and Mothers paines in one are mixt,His side, a Launce, her soule a Sword transfixt.Two harts in one, one Phenix loue contriues:[164]One wound in two, and two in one reuiues.”
“Behold, how Death aymes with his mortal dart,
And wounds a Phœnix with a twin-like hart.
These are the harts of Jesus and his Mother
So linkt in one, that one without the other
Is not entire. They (sure) each others smart
Must needs sustaine, though two, yet as one hart.
One Virgin-Mother, Phenix of her kind,
And we her Sonne without a father find.
The Sonne’s and Mothers paines in one are mixt,
His side, a Launce, her soule a Sword transfixt.
Two harts in one, one Phenix loue contriues:[164]
One wound in two, and two in one reuiues.”
Whitney’s and Shakespeare’s uses of the device resemble each other, as we shall see, more closely than the rest do,—and present a singular coincidence of thought, or else show that the later writer had consulted the earlier.
“The Bird always alone,” is the motto which Paradin, Reusner, and Whitney adopt. Paradin (fol. 53), informs us,—
Vnica ſemper auisParadin, 1562.
Vnica ſemper auis
Vnica ſemper auis
Vnica ſemper auis
Paradin, 1562.
Paradin, 1562.
Paradin, 1562.
Comme le Phenix eſt à jamais ſeul, & vnique Oiſeau au monde de ſon eſpece. Auſſi ſont les tresbonnes choſes de merueilleuſe rarité, & bien cler ſemees. Deuiſe que porte Madame Alienor d’ Auſtriche, Roine Douairiere de France.Theophraſte.
Comme le Phenix eſt à jamais ſeul, & vnique Oiſeau au monde de ſon eſpece. Auſſi ſont les tresbonnes choſes de merueilleuſe rarité, & bien cler ſemees. Deuiſe que porte Madame Alienor d’ Auſtriche, Roine Douairiere de France.
Comme le Phenix eſt à jamais ſeul, & vnique Oiſeau au monde de ſon eſpece. Auſſi ſont les tresbonnes choſes de merueilleuſe rarité, & bien cler ſemees. Deuiſe que porte Madame Alienor d’ Auſtriche, Roine Douairiere de France.
Theophraſte.
Theophraſte.
i.e.“As the Phœnix is always alone, and the only bird of its kind in the world, so are very good things of marvellous rarity and very thinly sown. It is the device which Madam Elinor of Austria bears, Queen Dowager of France.”
The Phœnix is Reusner’s 36th Emblem (bk. ii. p. 98),—
Vnica ſemper auisEmblema xxxvi.Reusner, 1581.
Vnica ſemper auisEmblema xxxvi.
Vnica ſemper auisEmblema xxxvi.
Vnica ſemper auis
Emblema xxxvi.
Reusner, 1581.
Reusner, 1581.
Reusner, 1581.
Quæ thuris lacrymis, & ſucco viuit amomi:[165]Fert cunas Phœnix, buſta paterna, ſuas.
Quæ thuris lacrymis, & ſucco viuit amomi:[165]Fert cunas Phœnix, buſta paterna, ſuas.
Quæ thuris lacrymis, & ſucco viuit amomi:[165]Fert cunas Phœnix, buſta paterna, ſuas.
Quæ thuris lacrymis, & ſucco viuit amomi:[165]
Fert cunas Phœnix, buſta paterna, ſuas.
Sixteen elegiac lines of Latin are devoted to its praise and typical signification, mixed with some curious theological conjectures,—
“On tears of frankincense, and on the juice of balsam livesThe Phœnix, and bears its cradle, the coffin of its sire.Always alone is this bird;—itself its own father and son,By death alone does it give to itself a new life.For oft as on earth it has lived the ten ages through,Dying at last, in the fire it is born of its own funeral pile.So to himself and to his, Christ gives life by his death,Life to his servants, whom in equal love he joins to himself.True Man is he, the one true God, arbiter of ages,Who illumines with light, with his spirit cherishes all.Happy, who by holy baptisms in Christ is reborn,In the sacred stream he takes hold of life,—in the stream he obtains it.”
“On tears of frankincense, and on the juice of balsam livesThe Phœnix, and bears its cradle, the coffin of its sire.Always alone is this bird;—itself its own father and son,By death alone does it give to itself a new life.For oft as on earth it has lived the ten ages through,Dying at last, in the fire it is born of its own funeral pile.So to himself and to his, Christ gives life by his death,Life to his servants, whom in equal love he joins to himself.True Man is he, the one true God, arbiter of ages,Who illumines with light, with his spirit cherishes all.Happy, who by holy baptisms in Christ is reborn,In the sacred stream he takes hold of life,—in the stream he obtains it.”
“On tears of frankincense, and on the juice of balsam livesThe Phœnix, and bears its cradle, the coffin of its sire.Always alone is this bird;—itself its own father and son,By death alone does it give to itself a new life.For oft as on earth it has lived the ten ages through,Dying at last, in the fire it is born of its own funeral pile.So to himself and to his, Christ gives life by his death,Life to his servants, whom in equal love he joins to himself.True Man is he, the one true God, arbiter of ages,Who illumines with light, with his spirit cherishes all.Happy, who by holy baptisms in Christ is reborn,In the sacred stream he takes hold of life,—in the stream he obtains it.”
“On tears of frankincense, and on the juice of balsam lives
The Phœnix, and bears its cradle, the coffin of its sire.
Always alone is this bird;—itself its own father and son,
By death alone does it give to itself a new life.
For oft as on earth it has lived the ten ages through,
Dying at last, in the fire it is born of its own funeral pile.
So to himself and to his, Christ gives life by his death,
Life to his servants, whom in equal love he joins to himself.
True Man is he, the one true God, arbiter of ages,
Who illumines with light, with his spirit cherishes all.
Happy, who by holy baptisms in Christ is reborn,
In the sacred stream he takes hold of life,—in the stream he obtains it.”
And again, in reference to the birth unto life eternal,—
“If men report true, death over again forms the Phœnix,To this bird both life and death the same funeral pile may prove.Onward, executioners! of the saints burn ye the sainted bodies;For whom ye desire perdition, to them brings the flame new birth.”
“If men report true, death over again forms the Phœnix,To this bird both life and death the same funeral pile may prove.Onward, executioners! of the saints burn ye the sainted bodies;For whom ye desire perdition, to them brings the flame new birth.”
“If men report true, death over again forms the Phœnix,To this bird both life and death the same funeral pile may prove.Onward, executioners! of the saints burn ye the sainted bodies;For whom ye desire perdition, to them brings the flame new birth.”
“If men report true, death over again forms the Phœnix,
To this bird both life and death the same funeral pile may prove.
Onward, executioners! of the saints burn ye the sainted bodies;
For whom ye desire perdition, to them brings the flame new birth.”
Whitney, borrowing his woodcut and motto from Plantin’s edition of“Les Devises Heroiqves,”1562, to a very considerable degree makes the explanatory stanzas his own both in the conception and in the expression. The chief town near to his birth-place had on December 10, 1583, been almost totally destroyed by fire, but through the munificence of the Queen and many friends, by 1586, “the whole site and frame of the town, so suddenly ruined, was with great speed re-edified in that beautifull manner,” says the chronicler, “that now it is.” The Phœnix (p. 177) is standing in the midst of the flames, and with outspreading wings is prepared for another flight in renewed youth and vigour.