A History of Elizabethan Literature Part 9

There is Lord Oxford, Sidney's enemy (which he might be if he chose), and apparently a c.o.xcomb (which is less pardonable), but a charming writer of verse, as in the following:--

"Come hither, shepherd swain!

Sir, what do you require?

I pray thee, shew to me thy name!

My name is Fond Desire.

"When wert thou born, Desire?

In pomp and prime of May.

By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot?

By fond Conceit, men say.

"Tell me, who was thy nurse Fresh youth, in sugared joy.

What was thy meat and daily food?

Sad sighs, with great annoy.

"What hadst thou then to drink?

Unfeigned lovers' tears.

What cradle wert thou rocked in?

In hope devoid of fears.

"What lulled thee then asleep?

Sweet speech which likes me best.

Tell me, where is thy dwelling-place?

In gentle hearts I rest.

"What thing doth please thee most?

To gaze on beauty still.

Whom dost thou think to be thy foe?

Disdain of my good will.

"Doth company displease?

Yes, surely, many one.

Where doth desire delight to live?

He loves to live alone.

"Doth either time or age Bring him unto decay?

No, no! Desire both lives and dies A thousand times a day.

"Then, fond Desire, farewell!

Thou art no mate for me; I should be loath, methinks, to dwell With such a one as thee.

There is, in the less exalted way, the industrious man of all work, Nicholas Breton, whom we shall speak of more at length among the pamphleteers, and John Davies of Hereford, no poet certainly, but a most industrious verse-writer in satiric and other forms. Ma.s.s of production, and in some cases personal interest, gives these a certain standing above their fellows. But the crowd of those fellows, about many of whom even the painful industry of the modern commentator has been able to tell us next to nothing, is almost miraculous when we remember that printing was still carried on under a rigid censors.h.i.+p by a select body of monopolists, and that out of London, and in rare cases the university towns, it was impossible for a minor poet to get into print at all unless he trusted to the contraband presses of the Continent. In dealing with this crowd of enthusiastic poetical students it is impossible to mention all, and invidious to single out some only. The very early and interesting _Posy of Gillyflowers_ of Humphrey Gifford (1580) exhibits the first stage of our period, and might almost have been referred to the period before it; the same humpty-dumpty measure of eights and sixes, and the same vestiges of rather infantine alliteration being apparent in it, though something of the fire and variety of the new age of poetry appears beside them, notably in this most spirited war-song:--

(_For Soldiers._)

"Ye buds of Brutus' land, courageous youths now play your parts,[28]

Unto your tackle stand, abide the brunt with valiant hearts, For news is carried to and fro, that we must forth to warfare go: Then muster now in every place, and soldiers are pressed forth apace.

Faint not, spend blood to do your Queen and country good: Fair words, good pay, will make men cast all care away.

"The time of war is come, prepare your corslet, spear, and s.h.i.+eld: Methinks I hear the drum strike doleful marches to the field.

Tantara, tantara the trumpets sound, which makes our hearts with joy abound.

The roaring guns are heard afar, and everything announceth war.

Serve G.o.d, stand stout; bold courage brings this gear about; Fear not, forth run: faint heart fair lady never won.

"Ye curious carpet-knights that spend the time in sport and play, Abroad and see new sights, your country's cause calls you away: Do not, to make your ladies' game, bring blemish to your worthy name.

Away to field and win renown, with courage beat your enemies down; Stout hearts gain praise, when dastards sail in slander's seas.

Hap what hap shall, we soon shall die but once for all.

"Alarm! methinks they cry. Be packing mates, begone with speed, Our foes are very nigh: shame have that man that shrinks at need.

Unto it boldly let us stand, G.o.d will give right the upper hand.

Our cause is good we need not doubt: in sign of courage give a shout; March forth, be strong, good hap will come ere it be long.

Shrink not, fight well, for l.u.s.ty lads must bear the bell.

"All you that will shun evil must dwell in warfare every day.

The world, the flesh, the devil always do seek our souls' decay.

Strive with these foes with all your might, so shall you fight a worthy fight.

That conquest dost deserve most praise, whose vice do[th] yield to virtue's ways.

Beat down foul sin, a worthy crown then shall ye win: If ye live well, in Heaven with Christ our souls shall dwell."

[28] I print this as in the original, but perhaps the rhythm, which is an odd one, would be better marked if lines 1 and 2 were divided into sixes and eights, lines 3 and 4 into eights, and lines 5 and 6 into fours and eights as the rhyme ends.

Of the same date, or indeed earlier, are the miscellaneous poems of Thomas Howell, ent.i.tled _The Arbour of Amity_, and chiefly of an ethical character. Less excusable for the uncouthness of his verse is Matthew Grove, who, writing, or at least publis.h.i.+ng, his poems in 1587, should have learnt something, but apparently had not. It has to be said in excuse of him that his date and indeed existence are shadowy, even among the shadowy Elizabethan bards; his editor, in worse doggerel than his own, frankly confessing that he knew nothing about him, not so much as whether he was alive or dead. But his work, Howell's, and even part of Gifford's, is chiefly interesting as giving us in the very sharpest contrast the differences of the poetry before and after the melodious bursts of which Spenser, Sidney, and Watson were the first mouthpieces. Except an utter dunce (which Grove does not seem to have been by any means) no one who had before him _The Shepherd's Calendar_, or the _Hecatompathia_, or a MS. copy of _Astrophel and Stella_, could have written as Grove wrote. There are echoes of this earlier and woodener matter to be found later, but, as a whole, the pa.s.sionate love of beauty, the sense--if only a groping sense--of form, and the desire to follow, and if possible improve upon the models of melodious verse which the Sidneian school had given, preserved even poetasters from the lowest depths.

To cla.s.sify the miscellaneous verse of 1590-1600 (for the second decade is much richer than the first) under subjects and styles is a laborious and, at best, an uncertain business. The semi-mythological love-poem, with a more or less tragic ending, had not a few followers; the collection of poems of various character in praise of a real or imaginary mistress, similar in design to the sonnet collections, but either more miscellaneous in form or less strung together in one long composition, had even more; while the collection pure and simple, resembling the miscellanies in absence of special character, but the work of one, not of many writers, was also plentifully represented. Satirical allegory, epigram, and other kinds, had numerous examples. But there were two cla.s.ses of verse which were both sufficiently interesting in themselves and were cultivated by persons of sufficient individual repute to deserve separate and detailed mention.

These were the historical poem or history--a kind of companion production to the chronicle play or chronicle, and a very popular one--which, besides the names of Warner, Daniel, and Drayton, counted not a few minor adherents among Elizabethan bards. Such were the already-mentioned Giles Fletcher; such Fitz-Geoffrey in a remarkable poem on Drake, and Gervase Markham in a not less noteworthy piece on the last fight of _The Revenge_; such numerous others, some of whom are hardly remembered, and perhaps hardly deserve to be. The other, and as a cla.s.s the more interesting, though nothing actually produced by its pract.i.tioners may be quite equal to the best work of Drayton and Daniel, was the beginning of English satire. This beginning is interesting not merely because of the apparent coincidence of instinct which made four or five writers of great talent simultaneously hit on the style, so that it is to this day difficult to award exactly the palm of priority, but also because the result of their studies, in some peculiar and at first sight rather inexplicable ways, is some of the most characteristic, if very far from being some of the best, work of the whole poetical period with which we are now busied. In pa.s.sing, moreover, from the group of miscellaneous poets to these two schools, if we lose not a little of the harmony and lyrical sweetness which characterise the best work of the Elizabethan singer proper, we gain greatly in bulk and dignity of work and in intrinsic value. Of at least one of the poets mentioned in the last paragraph his modern editor--a most enthusiastic and tolerant G.o.dfather of waifs and strays of literature--confesses that he really does not quite know why he should be reprinted, except that the original is unique, and that almost every sc.r.a.p of literature in this period is of some value, if only for lexicographic purposes. No one would dream of speaking thus of Drayton or of Daniel, of Lodge, Hall, Donne, or Marston; while even Warner, the weakest of the names to which we shall proceed to give separate notice, can be praised without too much allowance. In the latter case, moreover, if not in the first (for the history-poem, until it was taken up in a very different spirit at the beginning of this century, never was a success in England), the matter now to be reviewed, after being in its own kind neglected for a couple of generations, served as forerunner, if not exactly as model, to the magnificent satiric work of Dryden, and through his to that of Pope, Young, Churchill, Cowper, and the rest of the more accomplished English satirists. The acorn of such an oak cannot be without interest.

The example of _The Mirror for Magistrates_ is perhaps sufficient to account for the determination of a certain number of Elizabethan poets towards English history; especially if we add the stimulating effect of Holinshed's _Chronicle_, which was published in 1580. The first of the so-called historians, William Warner, belongs in point of poetical style to the pre-Spenserian period, and like its other exponents employs the fourteener; while, unlike some of them, he seems quite free from any Italian influence in phraseology or poetical manner. Nevertheless _Albion's England_ is, not merely in bulk but in merit, far ahead of the average work of our first period, and quite incommensurable with such verse as that of Grove. It appeared by instalments (1586-1606-1612). Of its author, William Warner, the old phrase has to be repeated, that next to nothing is known of him. He was an Oxfords.h.i.+re man by birth, and an Oxford man by education; he had something to do with Cary, Lord Hunsdon, became an Attorney of the Common Pleas, and died at Amwell suddenly in his bed in 1609, being, as it is guessed rather than known, fifty years old or thereabouts. _Albion's England_ was seized as contraband, by orders of the Archbishop of Canterbury--a proceeding for which no one has been able to account (the suggestion that parts of it are indelicate is, considering the manners of the time, quite ludicrous), and which may perhaps have been due to some technical informality. It is thought that he is the author of a translation of Plautus's _Menaechmi_; he certainly produced in 1585? a prose story, or rather collection of stories, ent.i.tled _Syrinx_, which, however, is scarcely worth reading. _Albion's England_ is in no danger of incurring that sentence. In the most easily accessible edition, that of Chalmers's "Poets," it is spoilt by having the fourteeners divided into eights and sixes, and it should if possible be read in the original arrangement.

Considering how few persons have written about it, an odd collection of critical slips might be made. Philips, Milton's nephew, in this case it may be hoped, not relying on his uncle, calls Warner a "good plain writer of moral rules and precepts": the fact being that though he sometimes moralises he is in the main a story-teller, and much more bent on narrative than on teaching. Meres calls him "a refiner of the English tongue," and attributes to him "rare ornaments and resplendent habiliments of the pen": the truth being that he is (as Philips so far correctly says) a singularly plain, straightforward, and homely writer. Others say that he wrote in "Alexandrines"--a blunder, and a serious one, which has often been repeated up to the present day in reference to other writers of the seven-foot verse. He brings in, according to the taste and knowledge of his time, all the fabulous accounts of the origins of Britain, and diversifies them with many romantic and pastoral histories, cla.s.sical tales, and sometimes mere _Fabliaux_, down to his own time. The chief of the episodes, the story of Argentile and Curan, has often, and not undeservedly, met with high praise, and sometimes in his declamatory parts Warner achieves a really great success. Probably, however, what commended his poem most to the taste of the day was its promiscuous admixture of things grave and gay--a mixture which was always much to the taste of Elizabeth's men, and the popularity of which produced and fostered many things, from the matchless tragi-comedy of _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_ to the singularly formless pamphlets of which we shall speak hereafter. The main interest of Warner is his insensibility to the new influences which Spenser and Sidney directed, and which are found producing their full effect on Daniel and Drayton. There were those in his own day who compared him to Homer: one of the most remarkable instances of thoroughly unlucky critical extravagance to be found in literary history, as the following very fair average specimen will show:--

"Henry (as if by miracle preserved by foreigns long, From hence-meant treasons) did arrive to right his natives' wrong: And chiefly to Lord Stanley, and some other succours, as Did wish and work for better days, the rival welcome was.

Now Richard heard that Richmond was a.s.sisted and ash.o.r.e, And like unkennel'd Cerberus, the crooked tyrant swore, And all complexions act at once confusedly in him: He studieth, striketh, threats, entreats, and looketh mildly grim, Mistrustfully he trusteth, and he dreadingly did dare, And forty pa.s.sions in a trice, in him consort and square.

But when, by his consented force, his foes increased more, He hastened battle, finding his co-rival apt therefore.

When Richmond, orderly in all, had battled his aid, Inringed by his complices, their cheerful leader said: 'Now is the time and place (sweet friends) and we the persons be That must give England breath, or else unbreathe for her must we.

No tyranny is fabled, and no tyrant was in deed Worse than our foe, whose works will act my words, if well he speed: For ill to ills superlative are easily enticed, But entertains amendment as the Gergesites did Christ.

Be valiant then, he biddeth so that would not be outbid, For courage yet shall honour him though base, that better did.

I am right heir Lancastrian, he, in York's destroyed right Usurpeth: but through either ours, for neither claim I fight, But for our country's long-lack'd weal, for England's peace I war: Wherein He speed us! unto Whom I all events refer.'

Meanwhile had furious Richard set his armies in array, And then, with looks even like himself, this or the like did say: 'Why, lads, shall yonder Welshman with his stragglers overmatch?

Disdain ye not such rivals, and defer ye their dispatch?

Shall Tudor from Plantagenet, the crown by cracking s.n.a.t.c.h?

Know Richard's very thoughts' (he touch'd the diadem he wore) 'Be metal of this metal: then believe I love it more Than that for other law than life, to supersede my claim, And lesser must not be his plea that counterpleads the same.'

The weapons overtook his words, and blows they bravely change, When, like a lion thirsting blood, did moody Richard range, And made large slaughters where he went, till Richmond he espied, Whom singling, after doubtful swords, the valorous tyrant died."

Of the sonnet compositions of Daniel and Drayton something has been said already. But Daniel's sonnets are a small and Drayton's an infinitesimal part of the work of the two poets respectively. Samuel Daniel was a Somersets.h.i.+re man, born near Taunton in 1562. He is said to have been the son of a music master, but was educated at Oxford, made powerful friends, and died an independent person at Beckington, in the county of his birth, in the year 1619. He was introduced early to good society and patronage, became tutor to Lady Anne Clifford, a great heiress of the North, was favoured by the Earl of Southampton, and became a member of the Pembroke or _Arcadia_ coterie. His friends or his merits obtained for him, it is said, the Masters.h.i.+p of the Revels, the posts of Gentleman Extraordinary to James I., and Groom of the Privy Chamber to Anne of Denmark. His literary production besides _Delia_ was considerable. With the first authorised edition of that collection he published _The Complaint of Rosamond_; a historical poem of great grace and elegance though a little wanting in strength. In 1594 came his interesting Senecan tragedy of _Cleopatra_; in 1595 the first part of his chief work, _The History of the Civil Wars_, and in 1601 a collected folio of "Works." Then he rested, at any rate from publication, till 1605, when he produced _Philotas_, another Senecan tragedy in verse. In prose he wrote the admirable _Defence of Rhyme_, which finally smashed the fancy for cla.s.sical metres dear even to such a man as Campion. _Hymen's Triumph_, a masque of great beauty, was not printed till four years before his death. He also wrote a History of England as well as minor works. The poetical value of Daniel may almost be summed up in two words--sweetness and dignity. He is decidedly wanting in strength, and, despite _Delia_, can hardly be said to have had a spark of pa.s.sion. Even in his own day it was doubted whether he had not overweighted himself with his choice of historical subjects, though the epithet of "well-languaged,"

given to him at the time, evinces a real comprehension of one of his best claims to attention. No writer of the period has such a command of pure English, unadulterated by xenomania and unweakened by purism, as Daniel.

Whatever unfavourable things have been said of him from time to time have been chiefly based on the fact that his chaste and correct style lacks the fiery quaintness, the irregular and audacious attraction of his contemporaries. Nor was he less a master of versification than of vocabulary. His _Defence of Rhyme_ shows that he possessed the theory: all his poetical works show that he was a master of the practice. He rarely attempted and probably would not have excelled in the lighter lyrical measures. But in the grave music of the various elaborate stanzas in which the Elizabethan poets delighted, and of which the Spenserian, though the crown and flower, is only the most perfect, he was a great proficient, and his couplets and blank verse are not inferior. Some of his single lines have already been quoted, and many more might be excerpted from his work of the best Elizabethan brand in the quieter kind. Quiet, indeed, is the overmastering characteristic of Daniel. It was this no doubt which made him prefer the stately style of his Senecan tragedies, and the hardly more disturbed structure of pastoral comedies and tragi-comedies, like the _Queen's Arcadia_ and _Hymen's Triumph_, to the boisterous revels of the stage proper in his time. He had something of the schoolmaster in his nature as well as in his history. Nothing is more agreeable to him than to moralise; not indeed in any dull or crabbed manner, but in a mellifluous and at the same time weighty fas.h.i.+on, of which very few other poets have the secret. It is perhaps by his scrupulous propriety, by his anxious decency (to use the word not in its modern and restricted sense, but in its proper meaning of the generally becoming), that Daniel brought upon himself the rather hard saying that he had a manner "better suiting prose."

The sentence will scarcely be echoed by any one who has his best things before him, however much a reader of some of the duller parts of the historical poems proper may feel inclined to echo it. Of his sonnets one has been given. The splendid Epistle to the Countess of c.u.mberland is not surpa.s.sed as ethical poetry by anything of the period, and often as it has been quoted, it must be given again, for it is not and never can be too well known:--

"He that of such a height hath built his mind, And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong, As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame Of his resolved powers; nor all the wind Of vanity or malice pierce to wrong His settled peace, or to disturb the same: What a fair seat hath he, from whence he may The boundless wastes and wealds of man survey!