Philip Massinger Part 5

1. The catalogue line, so familiar to the student of Lucretius_e.g._:

_Believe as You List_, I., 2, 85. The sapphire, ruby, jacinth, amber, coral.

_Believe as You List_ II, 2, 312. All circ.u.mstances, Answers, despatches, doubts, and difficulties.

_Picture_, V., I, 59. The comfortable names of breakfasts, dinners, Collations, supper, beverage.

_Emperor of East_, 2 Prol., 8. With his best of fancy, judgment, language, art.

I., 2, 194. To his merchant, mercer, draper, His linen-man, and tailor.

V., 2, 88. As sacred, glorious, high, invincible.

_City Madam_, II., 1, 72. Tissue, gold, silver, velvets, satins, taffetas.

IV., 3, 69. Entreaties, curses, prayers, or imprecations.

_Unnatural Combat_, II., 1, 128. All respect, Love, fear, and reverence cast off.

_Great Duke of Florence_, II., 1, 7. We of necessity must be chaste, wise, fair.

2. A more marked feature is the repet.i.tion of words or short phrases in various parts of the line.(164) The following instances may be given from (_a_) _The Great Duke of Florence_:

I., 1, 154. It is the duke!

The duke.

I., 2, 41. Our d.u.c.h.ess; such a d.u.c.h.ess.

I., 2, 95. See, signiors, see our care.

I., 2, 131. Take up, take up.

II., 1, 71. Fie! fie! the princess.

III., 1, 102. Tells His son, this is the prince, the hopeful prince.

(_b_) _The City Madam_:

II., 1, 58. I blush for you, Blush at your poverty of spirit.

III., 1, 11. I am starvd, Starvd in my pleasures.

V., 1, 12. Far, far above your hopes.

V., 1, 81. The height Of honour, princ.i.p.al honour.

V., 2, 67. A manor p.a.w.nd, p.a.w.nd, my good lord.

And, thirdly, the versification of Ma.s.singer is musical and melodious.

Boyle says that Miltons blank verse owes much to the study of it. In the indefinable touches which make up the music of a verse, in the artistic distribution of pauses, and in the unerring choice and grouping of just those words which strike the ear as the perfection of harmony, there are, if we leave Cyril Tourneurs _Atheists Tragedy_ out of the question, only two masters in the drama, Shakspere in his latest period and Ma.s.singer.(165) Coleridge says that it is an excellent metre, a better model for dramatists in general to imitate than Shaksperes. Read Ma.s.singer aright, and measure by time, not syllables, and no lines can be more legitimate, none in which the subst.i.tution of equipollent feet, and the modifications by emphasis, are managed with such exquisite judgment.(166) Be it noted that this praise comes from a master of his art, for no one who has once appreciated Coleridges command of vowel-syzygy and the velvet-like texture of his blank verse can refuse him that t.i.tle.

Ma.s.singers blank verse is equal to all the emotions which the author can express and kindle. It never fails him, nor, on the other hand, does it obtrude itself unduly on the sense conveyed. Only after reading a considerable pa.s.sage of our poet do we understand how much the versification contributes to his lifelike and dignified atmosphere.

Moreover, the metre of Ma.s.singer is admirably suited to his style. There seems a hidden but real harmony between them. Some might call his metre at times slipshod and undignified, from the fact that, except in elevated pa.s.sages, the characters speak in rhythmical sentences which approximate to prose. Boyle, who declares that Marlowe and Ma.s.singer are the two extremes of the metrical movement in the dramatists,(167) has pointed out that Ma.s.singers blank verse shows a larger proportion of run-on lines and double endings in harmonious union than any of his contemporaries.(168) Cartwright and Tourneur have more run-on lines, but not so many double endings. Fletcher has more double endings, but very few run-on lines. Shakspere and Beaumont alone exhibit a somewhat similar metrical style.(169) This is interesting, because we shall see later on that Ma.s.singer was a devoted admirer and imitator of Shakspere in thought, device, and expression. It is not strange, therefore, that he should also copy his metre, or rather, develop his own on the same lines. To show how flexible and dexterous the metre of Ma.s.singer is, I will give two instances from _The Bashful Lover_. In the first Uberti encourages Gonzaga to persevere with the contest:

UBERTI. Sir, these tears Do well become a father, and my eyes Would keep you company as a forlorn lover, But that the burning fire of my revenge Dries up those drops of sorrow. We, once more, Our broken forces rallied up, and with Full numbers strengthend, stand prepared t endure A second trial; nor let it dismay us That we are once again t affront the fury Of a victorious army; their abuse Of conquest hath disarmd them, and calld down The Powers above to aid us. I have read Some piece of story, yet neer found but that The general, that gave way to cruelty, The profanation of things sacred, rapes Of virgins, butchery of infants, and The ma.s.sacre in cold blood of reverend age, Against the discipline and law of arms, Did feel the hand of heaven lie heavy on him When most secure.(170)

In the second Gonzaga refuses the hand of his daughter Matilda to Lorenzo:

GONZAGA. Two main reasons (Seconding those you have already heard) Give us encouragement; the duty that I owe my mother country, and the love Descending to my daughter. For the first, Should I betray her liberty, I deservd To have my name with infamy razed from The catalogue of good princes; and I should Unnaturally forget I am a father, If, like a Tartar, or for fear or profit, I should consign her, as a bondwoman, To be disposed of at anothers pleasure; Her own consent or favour never sued for, And mine by force exacted. No, Alonzo, She is my only child, my heir; and if A fathers eyes deceive me not, the hand Of prodigal nature hath given so much to her, As, in the former ages, kings would rise up In her defence and make her cause their quarrel; Nor can she, if that any spark remain To kindle a desire to be possessd Of such a beauty, in our time, want swords To guard it safe from violence.(171)

Anyone who compares the metre of Ma.s.singer with that of Fletcher will find that our author observes far stricter laws than his friend. The plays of Ma.s.singer abound in lines divided between two speakers, or even three, which, nevertheless, observe the strict rule of the metre.(172)

The way in which Ma.s.singers style and metre suit one another can best be ill.u.s.trated by a pa.s.sage or two from _The Parliament of Love_; the first is where Bellisant speaks about the decay of chivalry.

BELLISANT. Ere they durst Presume to offer service to a lady, In person they performd some gallant acts The fame of which prepard them gracious hearing, Ere they made their approaches; what coy she, then,(173) Though great in birth, not to be paralleld For natures liberal beauties (both set off With fortunes trappings, wealth); but with delight, Gladly acknowledgd such a man her servant, To whose heroic courage and deep wisdom, The flouris.h.i.+ng commonwealth, and thankful king, Confessd themselves for debtors? Whereas, now, If you have travelled Italy, and brought home Some remnants of the language, and can set Your faces in some strange and neer-seen posture, Dance a la volta, and be rude and saucy, Protest and swear and d.a.m.n (for these are acts That most think grace them), and then view yourselves In the deceiving mirror of self-love, You do conclude there hardly is a woman That can be worthy of you.(174)

The second is a speech of Leonora exposing Cleremonds baseness:

I, burning then with a most virtuous anger, Razed from my heart the memory of his name, Railed and spit at him; and knew twas justice That I should take those deities he scornd, Hymen and Cupid, into my protection, And be the instrument of their revenge; And so I cast him off, scornd his submission, His poor and childish winnings, willd my servants To shut my gates against him; but, when neither Disdain, hate, or contempt could free me from His loathsome importunities, and fired too To wreak mine injurd honour, I took gladly Advantage of his execrable oaths, To undergo what penance I enjoind him; Then, to the terror of all future ribalds, That make no difference between love and l.u.s.t, Imposed this task upon him. I have said, too; Now, when you please, a censure.(175)

The critics may differ in their estimate of Ma.s.singers style and metre; but it is simple truth to say that they are unique in our literature, in their correctness, dignity, ease, and cla.s.sical frugality.

Let us now turn to the poets faults. It is said that his range of thought is limited, and this may be at once conceded. It might also be said that Greek tragedy is limited, and the statement is true of all our Elizabethan playwrights; yet we return to them again and again, for they have something to give us which we cannot do without. It is idle to depreciate one period of our literature at the expense of another. Are not the old madrigal writers limited, and Farrant and Byrd, Orlando Gibbons and Blow?

and yet we enjoy them; nay, to take even Purcell himself, when we confess that the pleasure he gives us is due to the fact that he is more daring, less shackled than his generation, so modern as we say, are we not in the end forced to confess that he too is unmistakably limited, bewrayed by his quaint and stately rhythms to be one of the seventeenth century?

Our age has a wider and subtler range of psychology; to revert from The Georgian Poets of 1911 to Ma.s.singer is like going back from the films of a cinema palace to a tondo of Luca Signorelli. Both films and tondo have their uses. We may take a single ill.u.s.tration of this point from _The Brothers Karamazov_. The great Russian novelist, among other problems, deals in that book with the case of the young man who is in love with two women at once. That is the sort of complicated interest which we do not expect our Elizabethan writers to cope with, in as great detail as a modern writer uses. The problem occurs in _The Bondman_, where the heroine, Cleora, is distracted between her plighted love to Leosthenes and her warm sense of obligation to Marullo;(176) it is interesting and instructive to see how simply the whole thing is touched upon, and how soon the doubt is solved by the discovery of Leosthenes former intrigue with Statilia. May we not say, with Aristophanes, in comparing Ma.s.singer and Dostoevsky:

??? ?? ??? ????a? s?f??, t? d ?d?a?.(177)

Then it is said that Ma.s.singers work is not free from coa.r.s.eness. The answer to this accusation may be made in more ways than one. I might with confidence reply to such critics: If you wish for real vulgarity of diction, read Marston; if you wish for real vulgarity of mind, read Middleton; if you wish for poisoned morals, read Ford and Tourneur; and then revise your judgment of Ma.s.singer. It is notorious that all the stage writers of the Elizabethan age are tarred with the same brush; there is much in Shakspere himself that we wish he had not written; still more is this true of Ben Jonson. In _The Virgin Martyr_, where we have the odious servants, Hircius and Spungius, it is generally believed that the parts of the play in which they appear are due to Dekker, not to Ma.s.singer, whose other works present nothing so disgusting. There are, at any rate, no lapses of taste in Ma.s.singer like those which we find in Fletcher; nothing like the fate of Rutilio in _The Custom of the Country_, or of Merione in _The Queen of Corinth_, or of the Father in _The Captain_. It must be confessed that Ma.s.singers conception of love is apt to be earthly, physical, sensuous; there is but little in his plays about the marriage of true minds,(178) too much about Hymens taper and virgin forts.

Captivated by the charms of female beauty, his intellect is too concrete in its ideals to rise above mere morality to the mysteries of the diviner love. So far it must be allowed that his art interests and stimulates the pa.s.sions of his audience without elevating them. But if at times we feel a monotonous limitation in his outlook in these matters, if we miss the healthy breezes of bracing commonsense and cheerful self-restraint, we are never pained by the triumph of what is low, corrupt, or morbid.

When it is said that his women are impure it is necessary to enter a clear protest.(179) There are offensive and heartless women in Ma.s.singer, such as Domitia in _The Roman Actor_, and Beaumelle in _The Fatal Dowry_;(180) there are odious old women, like Borachia and Corisca. There are pert and vulgar ladies maids; but you have only to read _The Bondman_, _The Bashful Lover_, _A Very Woman_, _The Maid of Honour_, _The Great Duke of Florence_, _The Emperor of the East_, _The Picture_, to see that his world includes some charming female charactersnot, indeed, so lovely as those of Shakspere, but still, types which show that he had not lost his faith in human nature, as, when we read Fielding, we feel regretfully almost obliged to allow, in spite of Sophia Western and Amelia, is the case with our great novelist.