Chapter V · THE AGE OF ELIZABETH (continued 2)
Reading edition
(3) Sylva Sylvarum (left incomplete). This part was designed to give a complete view of what we call Natural Philosophy and Natural History. The subjects he has touched on under this head are four—the History of Winds, Life and Death, Density and Rarity, Sound and Hearing.
(4) Scala Intellectus. Of this we have only a few of the opening pages.
(5) Prodromi. A few fragments only were written.
(6) Philosophia Secunda. Never executed.
3. His Style. Of Bacon as a philosopher we can only say that he is one of the founders of modern systematic thought. His most important literary work is his Essays. In its three versions this work shows the development of Bacon’s English style. In the first edition the style is crisp, detached, and epigrammatic, conveying the impression that each essay has arisen from some happy thought or phrase, around which other pithy statements are agglomerated. In the later editions the ideas are expanded, the expression loses its spiky pointedness, and in the end we have an approach to a freer middle style, an approximation to the swinging manner of Dryden. Bacon had no ear for rhythm and melody; a born rhetorician, he preferred the sharper devices of antithesis and epigram; and he was always clear, orderly, and swiftly precise in his phrasing. Following the fashion of the time, he was free in his use of allusions, conceits, and Latin tags, creating rather a garish ornamental effect; but his style is saved from triviality by his breadth of intellect, by his luminous intensity of ideas, and by his cool man-of-the-world sagacity.
For the sake of comparison we quote the same extract from the first and third editions of the Essays. The second extract, it will be noticed, is a studied expansion of the first.
(1) Crafty men contemn them, simple men admire them, wise men use them; for they teach not their own use, but that is a wisdom without them and above them won by observation. Read not to contradict nor to believe, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts, others to be read but cursorily, and some few to be read wholly and with diligence and attention. Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.
(2) Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.
Of Studies
OTHER PROSE-WRITERS
1. Roger Ascham (1515–68) is representative of the earliest school of Elizabethan prose. He was born in Yorkshire, and educated privately and at St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he became a Fellow (1535) and a teacher of Greek (1540). He took part in the literary and religious disputes of the time, but managed to keep his feet on the shifting grounds of politics. He was appointed tutor to Elizabeth (1548) and secretary to Queen Mary; he visited the Continent as secretary to an embassy; and ultimately was appointed a canon of York Minster.
His two chief works were Toxophilus (1544), a treatise, in the form of a dialogue, on archery; and The Scholemaster (1570), an educational work containing some ideas that were then fairly fresh and enlightening. Ascham was a man of moderate literary talent, of great industry, and of boundless enthusiasm for learning. Though he is strongly influenced by classical models, he has all the strong Elizabethan sense of nationality. In Toxophilus he declares his intention of “writing this English matter in the English speech for Englishmen.” In style he is plain and strong, using only the more obvious graces of alliteration and antithesis.
2. John Lyly (1553–1606) marks another stage in the march of English prose. He was born in Kent, educated at Oxford, and, failing to obtain Court patronage, became a literary man in London. At first he had considerable success, and entered Parliament; but at a later stage his popularity declined, and he died poverty-stricken in London.
We have already mentioned his comedies (see p. 105), which at the time brought him fame and money. But his first prose work, Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit (1579), made him one of the foremost figures of the day. He repeated the success with a second part, Euphues and his England (1580). The work is a kind of travel-romance, recounting the adventures of Euphues, a young Athenian. The narrative is interspersed with numerous discussions upon many topics. It was, however, the style of its prose that gave the book its great vogue. It is the first consciously fabricated prose style in the language. It is mannered and affected almost to the point of being ridiculous. Its tricks are obvious and easily imitated, and they are freely applied by the next generation: balanced phrases, intricate alliteration, labored comparisons drawn from classical and other sources, and ornate epithets. The effect is quaint and not displeasing, but the narrative labors under the weight of it. It certainly suited the growing literary consciousness of its day, and hence its pronounced, though temporary, success.
The following extract will illustrate the euphuistic manner:
Philautus being a town-born child, both for his own countenance, and the great countenance which his father had while he lived, crept into credit with Don Ferardo one of the chief governors of the city, who although he had a courtly crew of gentlewomen sojourning in his palace, yet his daughter, heir to his whole revenues stained the beauty of them all, whose modest bashfulness caused the other to look wan for envy, whose lily cheeks dyed with a vermilion red, made the rest to blush for shame. For as the finest ruby staineth the colour of the rest that be in place, or as the sun dimmeth the moon, that she cannot be discerned, so this gallant girl more fair than fortunate, and yet more fortunate than faithful, eclipsed the beauty of them all, and changed their colours. Unto her had Philautus access, who won her by right of love, and should have worn her by right of law, had not Euphues by strange destiny broken the bonds of marriage, and forbidden the banns of matrimony.
Euphues and his England
3. Richard Hooker (1553–1600) was born near Exeter, and educated at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, where he was elected a Fellow (1577). In 1582 he took orders, and later was appointed to a living in Kent, where he died.
His great work, at which he labored during the greater part of his life, was The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. The first four of the proposed eight books were issued in 1593; he finished one more; and though the remaining three were published under his name when he was dead, it is very doubtful if he was entirely responsible for them. In the work he supports Episcopacy against Presbyterianism. In style he is strongly affected by classical writers; but he usually writes with homeliness and point; his sentences are carefully constructed; the rhythm moves easily; and there is both precision and melody in his choice of vocabulary. His style is an early example of scholarly and accomplished English prose.
4. Sir Thomas Overbury (1581–1613) may be taken as typical of a fairly large class of Elizabethan writers. He was born in Warwickshire, educated at Oxford, and became a figure at the Court of King James. His chief friend at Court was James’s favorite Robert Carr, with whom he quarreled over a love-affair. For this Overbury fell into disfavor, and was imprisoned in the Tower, where he was poisoned under mysterious and barbarous circumstances.
Overbury survives in literature as the author of a series of Characters (1614). Based on the ancient Greek work of Theophrastus, the book consists of a number of concise character-sketches of well-known types, such as a Milkmaid, a Pedant, a Franklin, and “an Affectate Traveller.” The sketches are solely of types, not of individuals, and so lack any great literary merit. But they are important for several reasons: they are a curious development of the pamphlet, which was so common at that time; they are another phase of the “humours” craze, seen so strongly in the Jonsonian and other dramas; and they are an important element in the growth of the essay. In style the book is strongly euphuistic, thus illustrating another tendency of the time. They were added to and imitated by other writers, including John Earle (1601–65).
5. Robert Burton (1577–1640) was the son of a country gentleman, and was born in Leicestershire. He was educated at Oxford, where, in holy orders, he passed most of his life.
His famous work, The Anatomy of Melancholy, was first issued in 1621, and then constantly revised and reissued. It is an elaborate and discursive study of melancholy, its species and kinds, its causes, results, and cure. The book—labored, saturnine, and fantastic to an extraordinary degree—has exercised a strong fascination over many scholarly minds, including those of Dr. Johnson and Charles Lamb. Its learning is immense and unconventional, being drawn from many rare authors; its humor curiously crabbed, subdued, and ironical; and its “melancholy,” though pervading, is not oppressive. The diction, harsh and unstudied, is rarely obscure; the enormous sentences, packed with quotation and allusion, are loosely knit. Both as a stylist and as a personality Burton occupies his own niche in English literature.
6. The Sermon-writers. At the beginning of the seventeenth century the sermon rose to a level of literary importance not hitherto attained, and afterward rarely equaled. We have already mentioned Donne (see p. 102), probably the most notable of his group, and we give space to two other writers.
(a) James Ussher (1581–1656) was born in Dublin, and was descended from an ancient Protestant family. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and rose to be Bishop of Meath and Archbishop of Armagh (1626). In 1640 he visited England, where, owing to the disturbed state of Ireland, he had to remain for the remainder of his life. His many sermons, discourses, and tracts show learning, adroit argument, and a plain and easy style. His Chronologia Sacra was for a long time the standard work on Biblical chronology.
(b) Joseph Hall (1574–1656) was educated at Cambridge, took orders, and became a prominent opponent of the Puritans, among whom was Milton. He was appointed Bishop of Exeter (1627) and of Norwich (1641). When the Puritans rose to power Hall’s opinions brought him into disgrace. He was imprisoned, and, though liberated, forbidden to preach. He died in retirement.
Hall’s earliest work was in verse, and consisted of a series of satires called Virgidemiarum (1597), which were condemned by the Church as being licentious. His theological and devotional works, the product of his later years, are very numerous, and include tracts, sermons, and treatises. Though he is often shallow and voluble, he writes with literary grace. He is without doubt the most literary of the theologians of the time.
7. The Translators. The zeal for learning which was such a prominent feature of the early Elizabethan times was strongly apparent in the frequent translations. This class of literature had several curious characteristics. The translators cared little for verbal accuracy, and sometimes were content to translate from a translation, say from a French version of a Latin text. The translators, moreover, borrowed from each other, and repeated the errors of their fellows. These habits deprived their work of any great pretensions to scholarship; but they were eager adventurers into the new realms of learning, and to a great extent they reproduced the spirit, if not the letter, of their originals.
One of the first and most popular of the translations was North’s Diall of Princes (1557), from an Italian original. North also translated Plutarch’s Lives (1579), a work that had much influence upon Shakespeare and other dramatists. Other classical translations were those of Virgil, done by Phaer in 1558 and Stanyhurst in 1583, and of Ovid, by Turberville in 1567 and by Chapman in 1595. Chapman’s Translation of Homer (1596) is perhaps the most famous of them all. It is composed in long, swinging lines, and is lively, audacious, and pleasing.
8. The Pamphleteers. All through this period there is a flood of short tracts on religion, politics, and literature. It was the work of a host of literary hacks who earned a precarious existence in London. These men represented a new class of writer. The Reformation had closed the Church to them; the growth of the universities and of learning continually increased their numbers. In later times journalism and its kindred careers supplied them with a livelihood; but at this time they eked out their existence by writing plays and squabbling among themselves in the pages of broadsheets.
In its buoyancy and vigor, its quaint mixture of truculence and petulance, Elizabethan pamphleteering is refreshingly boyish and alive. It is usually keenly satirical, and in style it is unformed and uncouth. The most notorious of the pamphleteers were Thomas Nash (1567–1601), Robert Greene (1560–92), and Thomas Lodge (1558–1625). We quote a well-known passage from a pamphlet of Greene, in which he contrives to mingle praise of his friends with sly gibes at one who is probably Shakespeare. The style is typical of the pamphlets.
And thou,[100] no less deserving than the other two,[101] in some things rarer, in nothing inferior; driven (as myself) to extreme shifts, a little have I to say to thee; and were it not an idolatrous oath, I would swear by sweet St. George, thou art unworthy better hap, sith thou dependest on so mean a stay. Base-minded men all three of you, if by my misery ye be not warned; for unto none of you (like me) sought those burs to cleave,—those puppets, I mean,—that speak from our mouths,—those antics garnished in our colours. Is it not strange that I, to whom they all have been beholden,—is it not like that you, to whom they all have been beholden,—shall (were ye in that case that I am now) be both at once of them forsaken? Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger’s heart wrapt in a player’s hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank-verse as the best of you: and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shakescene in a country. Oh, that I might entreat your rare wits to be employed in more profitable courses, and let those apes imitate your past excellence, and never more acquaint them with your admired inventions! I know the best husband of you all will never prove an usurer, and the kindest of them all will never prove a kind nurse: yet, whilst you may, seek you better masters; for it is pity men of such rare wits should be subject to the pleasures of such rude grooms.
A Groatsworth of Wit bought with a Million of Repentance
THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS
At the beginning of the Elizabethan age English literary forms were still to a large extent in the making; at the end of the period there is a rich and varied store of most of the chief literary species. All that can be done here is to give the barest outline of this development.
1. Poetry. (a) Lyrical Poetry. The temper of the age was suited to the lyrical mood, and so the abundance of the lyric is very great. It begins with the first efforts of Wyat and Surrey (1557); it continues through the dramas in all their stages; and it appears in the numerous miscellanies of the period. Then the lyrical impulse is carried on without a break into the melodies of Campion and the darker moods of Donne. The forms of the lyric are many, and on the whole its notes are musical, wild, and natural.
An interesting sub-species of the lyric is the sonnet. We have seen how it took two forms—the Italian or Petrarchan form, and the English or Shakespearian type. During this period both kinds flourished, the English kind to a greater degree. Wyat began (1557) with a group of the Italian type; Surrey introduced the English form. Then the sonnet, in one or other of its two forms, was continued by Sidney in Astrophel and Stella (published in 1591), by Spenser, by Shakespeare, by Daniel in Delia (1592), and by Watson in Heoatompathia, or Passionate Century of Sonnets (1582). Later in the period the sonnet was less popular, though Drayton wrote at least one of great power.
(b) Descriptive and Narrative Poetry. This is a convenient title for a large and important class of poems. In this period it begins with such works as Sackville’s Induction (1555), and continues with Marlowe’s Hero and Leander (1598) and Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis (1593) and The Rape of Lucrece (1594). It culminates in the sumptuous allegorical poetry of Spenser; and it begins its decline with the Spenserians of the type of the Fletchers and with Drayton’s Endimion and Phœbe (1600). The pastoral, which is a kind of descriptive poem, is seen in Spenser’s Shepherd’s Calendar (1579), in Browne’s Britannia’s Pastorals (1613), and in Drayton. Almost purely descriptive poetry is represented in Drayton’s Polyolbion (1612); and a more strongly narrative type is the same poet’s England’s Heroical Epistles (1597). All these poems are distinguished by strong descriptive power, freshness of fancy, and sometimes by positive genius of style.
(c) Religious, satirical, and didactic poetry cannot take a position equal in importance to the rest. During the period the satirical intent is quite strong, but it does not produce great poetry. Gascoigne’s Steel Glass (1576) is one of the earliest satires; and it is followed by Donne’s Satires (1593) and Hall’s Satires (1597). Drayton’s Harmony of the Church (1591) is religious in motive; so are several poems of Donne, and also many of those of the Jesuit Robert Southwell (1561–95).
2. Drama. The opening of the Elizabethan period saw the drama struggling into maturity. The early type of the time was scholarly in tone and aristocratic in authorship. An example of the earliest type of playwright is Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke (1554–1628), who distinguished himself both as a dramatic and lyrical poet.
To this stage succeeded that of Shakespeare, which covered approximately the years 1595 to 1615. Of this drama all we can say here is that it is the crown and flower of the Elizabethan literary achievement, and embodies almost the entire spirit both of drama and poetry.
The decline begins with Jonson, and continues with Beaumont and Fletcher, Dekker, Heywood, and the other dramatists mentioned in this chapter. The decline is made clear in several ways: in the narrowing of the ample Shakespearian motive, which comprises all mankind, into themes of temporary, local, and fragmentary importance; in the lack of creative power in the characterization, resulting (as in Jonson) in mere types or “humors,” or (as in Dekker and Fletcher) in superficial improvisation, or in ponderous tragical figures (as in Webster and Tourneur); and lastly, in the degradation of the style, which will be noted below. Sometimes the decline is gilded with delicate fancy, as in Fletcher’s Faithful Shepherdess, or in the exquisite Parliament of Bees (1607) by John Day (1574–1640); but the grace and charm of such plays cannot conceal the falling-off in power and imagination.
With regard to the development of the different dramatic types, we have already noted that tragedy developed first; in Shakespeare all kinds received attention, tragedy most of all. In post-Shakespearian drama light comedy was the most popular species, chiefly because the tragic note of exalted pity had degenerated into melodrama and horrors.
A special word is perhaps necessary on the masque, which during this time had a brief but brilliant career. The masque is a short dramatic performance composed for some particular festive occasion, such as the marriage or majority of a great man’s son; it is distinguished by ornate stage-setting, by lyrics, music, and dancing, and by allegorical characters. It finds a place in Shakespeare’s Tempest and other plays; it is strongly developed in the works of Jonson, Fletcher, and other poets of the time; and it attains its climax during the next age in the Comus (1637) of Milton.
3. Prose. In Elizabethan times the development of prose was slower and slighter than that of poetry.
(a) The essay, beginning in the pamphlet, character-sketch, and other miscellaneous writing, develops in the work of Bacon. Its rise will be sketched more fully in a future chapter (see p. 268).
(b) The novel has some meager but significant beginnings in More’s Utopia (1516), Sidney’s Arcadia (published in 1590), Lyly’s Euphues (1579), Bacon’s New Atlantis (1626), and most of all in Nash’s The Unfortunate Traveller (1594). The rise of the novel is also reserved for a later chapter (see p. 336).
(c) Miscellaneous prose, in the pamphlets, theological works, sermons, translations, travels, and such abnormalities as Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy (1621), is exceedingly voluminous and important. We have here a large, loose, and varied mass of English prose, the central exercising-ground of the average prose-writer, that is to be the foundation of many important groups of the future.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE
1. Poetry. The period immediately preceding was that of the clumsy poetry of Hawes, Skelton, and their kind; succeeding it is the strength and beauty of Elizabethan poetry. Between these two extremes the different stages of development are fairly well marked.
(a) The earliest period (say from 1550–80) is that of Wyat, Surrey, Sidney, and the University Wits. This is the formative and imitative period, during which the dependence upon classical originals is particularly strong. The style has the precision and the erratic character of the diligent pupil. There are few deliberate innovations, and lapses into barbarism are not unknown. In this period appear the sonnet, blank verse, and many of the beautiful lyrical metrical forms. The lyrical style is least restrained by the influence of classical models.
(b) The Spenserian and Shakespearian stage (from about 1580 to 1615) is the stage of highest development. The native English genius, having absorbed the lessons of foreign writers, adds to them the youth and ardor of its own spirit. The result is a fullness, freshness, and grandeur of style unequaled in any other period of our literature. There are the lyrics and allegories of Spenser; the poems, dramas, and lyrics of Shakespeare; and the innumerable miscellanies, poems, and plays of other writers. The style is as varied as the poems; but the universal note is the romantic one of power and ease.
(c) In the second decade of the seventeenth century the decline is apparent. The inspired phraseology, the wealth and flexibility of vocabulary, and the general bloom of the style pass into the lightness of fancy and the tinkling unsubstantial verse of the nature of Campion’s. Or the high seriousness degenerates into the gloomy manner of the Websterian tragedy. The handling of blank verse is typical of the movement. The sinewy Shakesperian blank verse becomes nerveless; in drama prose is commoner in quantity and coarser in fiber. In the lyric much of the old technical dexterity survives, but the deeper qualities of passion and sincerity are less common and robust.
2. Prose. Unlike that of poetry, the style of prose enjoys a steady development, continued from the previous age, and maintained through the Elizabethan age. Euphuism, which appeared early in this epoch, was a kind of literary measles incidental to early growth, and it quickly passed away, leaving the general body of English prose healthier than before. There is an increase in the raw material of prose in the shape of many foreign words that are imported; there is a growing expertness in sentence-and paragraph-construction and in the more delicate graces of style, such as rhythm and melody. The prose of Hooker and Bacon (in his later stages) represents the furthest development of the time. Prose style has yet a great deal to learn, but it is learning fast.
TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS
Date> Poetry Drama Prose
Lyric Narrative-Descriptive Didactic Comedy Tragedy Essay Narrative Didactic
Ascham
1550
Sackville[102]
1570
Gascoigne[104]
Lyly Peele
Kyd
Greene
1590 Marlowe
Daniel Donne Nash Hooker[107]
Shakespeare[108] Nash
Marlowe Shakespeare Spenser
1600 Drayton Chapman Bacon[109]
Campion Jonson Dekker Shakespeare
Donne Marston
Jonson
1610 G. Fletcher Heywood
Drayton Webster
Beaumont Overbury[110]
Fletcher
1620
Middleton Bacon
Ussher
Burton
1630 Bacon Hall
P. Fletcher
1640
EXERCISES
1. The following extracts illustrate the growth of the English lyric from earliest times. Arrange the passages approximately in order of development, adding dates when it seems possible. Write a note on the style of each, and point out in what respects it is typical of its author or period.
(1) Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. Jonson, Epicene
(2) Son icche herde that mirie note Thider I drogh; I fond her in an herber swot Under a bough With joie enough. Son I asked: “Thou mirie mai Hwi sinkestou ai?” Nou sprinkes the sprai, All for love icche am so seek That slepen I ne mai. Old Song
(3) A blissful life thou says I lead; Thou wouldest know thereof the stage. Thou wost well when thy Perle con schede, I was full young and tender of age; But my Lord the Lomb, through his God-hede, He took myself to his maryage, Coround me queen in bliss to brede[111] In length of dayes that ever shall wage. And seised in all his heritage His lef[112] is; I am wholly his; His praise, his price, and his parage Is root and ground of all my bliss. Pearl
(4) Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? O sweet content! Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? O punishment! Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed To add to golden numbers, golden numbers? O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! Work apace, apace, apace, apace; Honest labour bears a lovely face; Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring? O sweet content! Swim’st thou in wealth, yet sink’st in thine own tears? O punishment! Then he that patiently want’s burden bears No burden bears, but is a king, a king! O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! Work apace, apace, apace, apace; Honest labour bears a lovely face; Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! Dekker, Sweet Content
2. In the following passages, which illustrate the development of blank verse, examine the metrical features (such as the scansion, variation of the pause, and the melody) of each, and mention if any improvement is apparent.
(1) It was the time when granted from the gods, The first sleep creeps most sweet in weary folk, Lo, in my dream before mine eyes, methought With rueful cheer I saw where Hector stood (Out of whose eyes gushed streams of tears), Drawn at a car as he of late had been, Distained with bloody dust, whose feet were bowl’n[113] With the strait cords wherewith they haled him. Surrey, Æneid, 1557
(2) That age is dead and vanished long ago, Which thought that steel both trusty was and true And needed not a foil of contraries, But shewed all things even as they were in deed. In stead whereof, our curious years can find The crystal glass, which glimpseth brave and bright, And shews the thing much better far than it, Beguiled with foils, of sundry subtle sights So that they seem and covet not to be. Gascoigne, The Steel Glass, 1576
(3)Prospero.Of the king’s ship The mariners, say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o’ the fleet. Ariel.Safely in harbour Is the king’s ship: in the deep nook, where once Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid: The mariners all under hatches stow’d; Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour, I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet Which I dispersed, they all have met again And are upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d And his great person perish. Shakespeare, The Tempest, 1611
3. Comment upon the style, meter, and general level of excellence shown in the following sonnets. Point out any development that is observable.
(1) The sweet season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale. The nightingale, with feathers new, she sings; The turtle to her mate hath told her tale; Summer is come, for every spray now springs. The hart hath hung his old head on the pale: The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes fleet with new repaired scale; The adder all her slough away she flings; The swift swallow pursueth the flies small; The busy bee her honey how she mings! Winter is worn, that was the flowers’ bale, And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs. Surrey, To Spring, 1557
(2) Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharpe his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh nere, Sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough; Sweet is the cyprese, but his rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;[114] Sweet is the broome flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill; So, every sweet, with soure is tempred still, That maketh it be coveted the more: For easie things that may be got at will Most sorts of men doe set but little store. Why then should I accompt of little paine That endlesse pleasure shall unto me gaine! Spenser, Amoretti, 1595
(3) Since there’s no help, come, let us kiss and part,— Nay, I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of love’s latest breath, When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, —Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou mightest him yet recover! Drayton, 1620
4. Hooker’s is sometimes considered to be the most highly developed of Elizabethan prose styles. In the following two extracts examine the vocabulary, sentence-construction, and general competence of the first, and compare it with the second, which was written about two hundred years earlier.
(1) Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice, it being but of high and low in sounds a due proportionable disposition, such notwithstanding is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think that the soul itself by nature is, or hath in it, harmony; a thing which delighteth all ages, and beseemeth all states; a thing as seasonable in grief as in joy; as decent being added unto actions of greatest weight and solemnity, as being used when men most sequester themselves from action. The reason hereof is an admirable facility which music hath to express and represent to the mind, more inwardly than any other sensible mean, the very standing, rising and falling, the very steps and inflections every way, the turns and varieties of all passions whereunto the mind is subject; yea, so to imitate them, that, whether it resemble unto us the same state wherein our minds already are, or a clean contrary, we are not more contentedly by the one confirmed, than changed and led away by the other. In harmony, the very image and character even of virtue and vice is perceived, the mind delighted with their resemblances, and brought by having them often iterated into a love of the things themselves. For which cause there is nothing more contagious and pestilent than some kinds of harmony; than some, nothing more strong and potent unto good.
Hooker, The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, 1592
(2) This Emperor Prester John, when he goeth in to battle, against any other lord, he hath no banners borne before him: but he hath three crosses of gold, fine, great and high, full of precious stones: and every of the crosses be set in a chariot, full richly arrayed. And for to keep every cross, be ordained ten thousand men of arms, and more than a hundred thousand men on foot, in manner as men would keep a standard in our countries, when that we be in land of war. And this number of folk is without the principal host, and without wings ordained for the battle. And when he hath no war, but rideth with a privy retinue, then he hath borne before him but a cross of tree, without peinture, and without gold or silver or precious stones; in remembrance, that Jesu Christ suffered death upon a cross of tree.
Mandeville, Travels, 1400
5. In what respects is each of the following extracts typical of its author and its age? Write a very brief appreciation of the style of each.
(1) Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.— Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in those lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sacked; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. Marlowe, Doctor Faustus
(2) Iffida, the water standing in her eyes, clasping my hand in hers, with a sad countenance answered me thus:
“My good Fidus, if the increasing of my sorrows, might mitigate the extremity of thy sickness, I could be content to resolve myself into tears to rid thee of trouble: but the making of a fresh wound in my body is nothing to the healing of a festered sore in thy bowels: for that such diseases are to be cured in the end, by the names of their original. For as by basil the scorpion is engendered and by the means of the same herb destroyed: so love which by time and fancy is bred in an idle head, is by time and fancy banished from the heart: or as the salamander which, being a long space nourished in the fire, at the last quencheth it, so affection having taken hold of the fancy, and living as it were in the mind of the lover, in tract of time altereth and changeth the heat, and turneth it to chillness.
Lyly, Euphues and his England
(3) Cozen german to idleness, and a concomitant cause which goes hand in hand with it, is nimia solitudo, too much solitariness—by the testimony of all physicians, cause and symptom both; but as it is here put for a cause, it is either coact, enforced, or else voluntary. Enforced solitariness is commonly seen in students, monks, friars, anchorites, that, by their order and course of life, must abandon all company, society of other men, and betake themselves to a private cell; otio superstitioso seclusi (as Bale and Hospinian well term it), such as are the Carthusians of our time, that eat no flesh (by their order), keep perpetual silence, never go abroad; such as live in prison, or some desert place, and cannot have company, as many of our country gentlemen do in solitary houses; they must either be alone without companions, or live beyond their means, and entertain all comers as so many hosts, or else converse with their servants and hinds, such as are unequal, inferior to them, and of a contrary disposition; or else, as some do, to avoid solitariness, spend their time with lewd fellows in taverns, and in ale-houses, and thence addict themselves to some unlawful disports, or dissolute courses.
Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy
(4) Mr Peter, as one somewhat severe of nature, said plainly, that the rod only was the sword that must keep the school in obedience, and the scholar in good order. Mr Wotton, a man of mild nature, with soft voice, and few words, inclined to Mr Secretary’s judgment, and said, “In mine opinion the school-house should be in deed, as it is called by name, the house of play and pleasure, and not of fear and bondage; and as I do remember, so saith Socrates in one place of Plato. And therefore, if a rod carry the fear of a sword it is no marvel if those that be fearful of nature choose rather to forsake the play, than to stand always within the fear of a sword in a fond man’s handling.”
Ascham, The Scholemaster
(5) Come little babe, come silly soul, Thy father’s shame, thy mother’s grief, Born as I doubt to all our dole, And to thyself unhappy chief: Sing lullaby and lap it warm, Poor soul that thinks no creature harm. Thou little think’st and less dost know The cause of this thy mother’s moan; Thou want’st the wit to wail her woe, And I myself am all alone; Why dost thou weep, why dost thou wail, And know’st not yet what thou dost ail? Come little wretch, ah silly heart, Mine only joy; what can I more? If there be any wrong thy smart, That may the destinies implore; ’Twas I, I say, against my will; I wail the time, but be thou still. A Sweet Lullaby (from The Arbor of Amorous Devices)
(6) Ere long they come where that same wicked wight His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,[115] Far underneath a craggie clifty pight, Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave, That still for carrion carcases doth crave: On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly Owle, Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle; And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle and howle. And all about old stockes and stubs of trees, Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seene, Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees; On which had many wretches hanged beene, Whose carcases were scattred on the greene, And throwne about the clifts. Arrived there, That bare-head knight, for dread and dolefull teene, Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare; But th’ other forst him staye, and comforted in feare. That darksome cave they enter, where they find That cursed man, low sitting on the ground, Musing full sadly in his sullein mind: His griesie lockes, long growen and unbound, Disordered hong about his shoulders round, And his face, through which his hollow eyne Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound; His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine, Were shronke into his jawes, as he did never dine. Spenser, The Faerie Queene
6. What features of Shakespeare’s life and literary work does Arnold refer to in the following sonnet? How far do his statements appear to you inaccurate or exaggerated?
Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask—thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill, Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his stedfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, Spares but the cloudy border of his base To the foil’d searching of mortality; And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-school’d, self-scann’d, self-honour’d, self-secure, Didst tread on earth unguess’d at. Better so! All pains the immortal spirit must endure, All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow, Find their sole speech in that victorious brow. Matthew Arnold, Shakespeare
7. Compare very carefully the two given extracts from Shakespeare’s plays. Observe the handling of each: the simplicity or ornateness of diction, the power of expression, and the strength and flexibility of the blank verse. On these grounds, which would you say was taken from an early and which from a later?
(1) Cordelia. He wakes; speak to him. Doctor. Madam, do you: ’tis fittest. Cordelia. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave: Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. Cordelia. Sir, do you know me? Lear. You are a spirit, I know: when did you die? Cordelia. Still, still, far wide! Doctor. He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile. Lear. Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight? I am mightily abused. I should e’en die with pity, To see another thus. I know not what to say. I will not swear these are my hands: let’s see; I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured Of my condition! King Lear
(2) Portia. It must not be. There is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established: ’Twill be recorded for a precedent, And many an error by the same example Will rush into the state. It cannot be. Shylock. A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! O wise young judge, how I do honour thee! Portia. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. Shylock. Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. Portia. Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offered thee. Shylock. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven. Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice. Portia.Why, this bond is forfeit; And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant’s heart.—Be merciful: Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. The Merchant of Venice
8. Explain and discuss the following statements concerning Shakespeare. Whenever you can, illustrate with examples from the plays.
(1) He was not of an age, but for all time.—Jonson.
(2) Panting time toiled after him in vain.—Johnson.
(3) The genius of Shakespeare was an innate universality.
Keats.
(4) His plays are distinguished by signal adherence to the great laws of nature, that all opposites tend to attract and temper each other.—Coleridge.
(5) The striking peculiarity of Shakespeare’s mind was its power of communicating with other minds, so that it contained a universe of thought and feeling within itself.—Hazlitt.
9. What were the signs of the “dramatic decline” that set in after Shakespeare? Mention some dramatists whose plays show this decline.
10. Try to account for the weakness of English prose when compared with the poetry of the time.
(1) No single prose writer of the time, not even Hooker, holds the same rank that Spenser holds in poetry.—Saintsbury.
(2) The poets and dramatists of the age of Elizabeth completed their work quickly, and attained, by leaps and bounds, to the consummate perfection of their diction. But prose style grows more slowly; and its growth is hindered rather than quickened by the very variety of its subject.—Craik.
11. In what respects is the title “Elizabethan literature” open to objection when it is applied to the matter of this chapter? Suggest other titles.
12. To what extent were the University Wits immature dramatists? What was their contribution to the English drama?
13. “The age of Elizabeth made the most of both native and classical elements.” Discuss this statement.
14. It is frequently stated that during the second half of the Elizabethan period drama weakened and prose strengthened. Confirm or confute the statement.
15. How was this time “the Golden Age of the lyric”?