CHAPTER IV.
LYLY'S LEGATEES.
I.
All Lyly's imitators, Greene, Lodge, Melbancke, Riche, Munday, Warner,Dickenson, and others, did not faithfully copy his style in all itspeculiarities, at any rate in all their works; some of them borrowedonly his ideas, others his plot; others his similes; most of them,however, when they first began to write, went the fullest length inimitation, and tricked themselves out in euphuistic tinsel. They werecareful by choosing appropriate titles for their novels to publiclyconnect themselves with the euphuistic cycle. "Euphues" was a magicpass-word, and they well knew that the name once pronounced, the doorsof the "boudoirs," or closets as they were then called, and the handsof the fair ladies, were sure to open; the book was certain to bewelcome.
Hence the number of writers who declared themselves Euphues' legateesand executors. Year after year, for a while, readers saw issuing fromthe press such books as "Zelauto, the fountaine of Fame ... containing adelicate disputation ... given for a friendly entertainment to Euphuesat his late arrival into England," by Munday, 1580; or as "Euphues hiscensure to Philautus, wherein is presented a philosophicall combatbetweene Hector and Achylles," by Robert Greene, 1587: "Gentlemen," saysthe author to the readers, "by chance, some of Euphues loose papers cameto my hand, wherein hee writ to his friend Philautus from Silexedra,certaine principles necessary to bee observed by every souldier." Orthere was "Menaphon, Camillas alarum to slumbering Euphues," by thesame, 1589; "Rosalynde, Euphues golden legacie, found after his death inhis cell at Silexedra," by Thomas Lodge, 1590; "Arisbas, Euphues amidsthis slumbers," by John Dickenson, 1594, &c.[103] All these authorscontinued their model's work in contributing to the development ofliterature written chiefly for ladies; in that way especially was Lyly'sinitiative fruitful.
Barnabe Riche, for example, publishes "Don Simonides,"[104] a story ofa foreigner who travels in Italy and then comes to London, like Euphues,mixes in good society, and makes the acquaintance of Philautus; hewrites this romance "for the amusement of our noble gentilmen as well asof our honourable ladies." He wrote also a series of short stories,[105]this time "for the onely delight of the courteous gentlewoemen bothe ofEngland and Irelande;" and, for fear they should forget his design ofsolely pleasing them, he addresses them directly in the course of hisnarrative: "Now, gentilwomen, doe you thinke there could have been agreater torment devised, wherewith to afflicte the harte of Silla?"Shakespeare, an assiduous reader of collections of this kind, and who,unfortunately for their authors, has not transmitted his taste toposterity, was acquainted with Riche's tales, and drew from this samestory of Silla the principal incidents of his "Twelfth Night." Richehimself had taken it from the "Histoires tragiques" of Belleforest, andBelleforest had translated it from Bandello.
Munday's Zelauto[106] is also a traveller. A son of the Duke of Venice,he goes on his travels, after the example of Euphues, visiting Naplesand Spain, where he falls "in the company of certain English merchants,"very learned merchants, "who, in the Latin tongue, told him the happyestate of England and how a worthy princes governed their commonwealth." He comes accordingly to this country, for which he feels anadmiration equal to Euphues' own. From thence he "takes shipping intoPersia," and visits Turkey, prepared upon any emergency to fightvaliantly or to speak eloquently, his hand and tongue being equallyready with thrusts and parries, or comparisons and similes.
Again we find Lyly's manner in Melbancke's "Philotimus,"[107] 1583, abook full, as "Euphues," of letters, dialogues, and philosophicaldiscussions, and in Warner's "Pan his Syrinx," 1584. Warner, whose famemainly rests on his long poem, "Albion's England," published in 1586,began his literary career as a novelist of the euphuistic school. Incommon with many youths of all times, of whom Lyly was one, he wasscarcely out of "non-age," to use his own word, than he wanted to impartto his fellow-men his experience of a life, for him just begun, and toteach them how to behave in a world of which he knew only the outside.He lands his hero, Sorares, "in a sterile and harborlesse island," not arare occurrence even in novels anterior to Defoe; Sorares' sons start tofind him. Both they and their father meet with sundry adventures, in thecourse of which they tell or hear stories and take part in various"controversies and complayntes." Many topics are philosophicallydiscussed; the chief being, as in Lyly, woman. One of the speakers putsforward the assertion that there may be, after all, some good in women;but another demonstrates that there is none at all; and that their nameof "wo-man" contains their truest definition. Whereupon, we are treatedonce more to a description of dresses and fashions: "Her face painted,her beautie borrowed, her haire an others, and that frisled, hergestures enforced, her lookes premeditated, her backe bolstred, herbreast bumbasted, her shoulders bared and her middle straite laced, andthen is she in fashion!" Of course this does not apply to English, butto Scythian and Assyrian ladies. This description is followed, as inLyly, by a proper antidote, and with a number of rules to be observed byall the honest people who desire to escape the wiles of the femininesex.
Warner's book had some success; it reached a second edition in1597,[108] in which the author states that two writers, at least, copiedhim, sometimes "verbatim" without any acknowledgment; one of them seemsto have been no less a person than Robert Greene, "a scholler," saysWarner, "better than my selfe on whose grave the grasse now growethgreen, whom otherwise, though otherwise to me guiltie, I name not."Several incidents in Greene's works resemble Warner's stories,especially the one called "Opheltes," the plot of which forcibly remindsus of "Francesco's Fortunes," and at the same time of a different workof greater fame, the "Two Gentlemen of Verona."[109]
When Warner spoke, apparently, of Greene as a "scholler" better thanhimself he was quite right, and as a matter of fact, Lyly's two mostfamous disciples were Thomas Lodge, a friend of Riche, who helped him torevise his works and corrected his faulty verses, and Robert Greene, anovelist and dramatist like Lodge and Lyly, and a friend of the former.Endowed with a less calm and sociable temperament than their model,Greene and Lodge led a chequered existence very characteristic of theirepoch.
II.
With Robert Greene we are in the midst of Bohemia, not exactly theBohemia which Muerger described and which dies in the hospital: thehospital corresponds in some manner to ideas of order and rule; underElizabeth men remained irregular to the end; literary men who were notphysicians like Lodge, or shareholders in a theatre like Shakespeare, orsubsidized by the Court like Ben Jonson, died of hunger in the gutter,or of indigestion at a neighbour's house, or of a sword-thrust in thetavern. Therein is one of the peculiarities of the period. Itdistinguishes the Bohemia of Elizabeth from other famous Bohemias, thatof Grub Street, known to Dr. Johnson, and that of the _quartier latin_described by Muerger.
Greene was one of the most original specimens of the unfortunate men whoin the time of Elizabeth attempted to live by their pen. He was asremarkable for his extravagances of conduct as for his talents,sometimes gaining money and fame by the success of his writings,sometimes sinking into abject poverty and consorting with the outcastsof society. Of all the writers of the Elizabethan period he is perhapsthe one whose life and character we can best picture to ourselves; forin his last years, repentant and sorrow-stricken, he wrote with theutmost sincerity autobiographical tales and pamphlets, which areinvaluable as a picture of the times; they are, in fact, nothing elsethan the "Scenes de la vie de Boheme" of Elizabethan England.
In these books Greene gives us the key to his own character, to his manyadventures, and to his miserable end. There were two separate selves inhim, and they proved incompatible. One was full of reasonable, sensible,and somewhat _bourgeois_ tendencies, highly appreciating honourrespectability, decorum, civic and patriotic virtues; of women likingonly those that were pure, of men those that were honest, religious andgood citizens. Greene's other self was not, properly speaking, thecounterpart of the first, and had no taste for vices as vices, nor fordisorder as disorder, but was wholly and solely bent upon _enjoyment_,immediate enjoyment what
ever be the sort, the cost, or the consequence.Hence the glaring discrepancies in Greene's life, his faults, not to sayhis crimes, his sudden short-lived repentances, his supplications to hisfriends not to imitate his example, his incapacity to follow steadilyone course or the other. His better self kept his writings free fromvice, but was powerless to control his conduct. This struggle betweenthe forces of good and evil is exceedingly well depicted in Greene'sRepentances, under his own or fictitious names; of all the heroes of histales he is himself the most interesting and the most deeply studied. Asa novel writer and an observer of human nature, his own portrait isperhaps his masterpiece.
Greene was born at Norwich about 1560, and belonged to a family in easycircumstances. He was sent to Cambridge, where he was admitted to St.John's College on November, 1575. There, according to a propensity thatwas inborn, he at once associated with noisy, unprincipled youngfellows. This propensity accompanied him through life, and led him toconstantly surround himself with a rabble of merry companions, to begreatly liked by them, but to make few sincere friends, and to quarrelwith these very often, to drop their acquaintance, to befriend themagain, and so on to the last.
The universities at that time were not places of edification; and Lyly,who during the same period had a personal experience of them, wascareful when, shortly afterwards, he wrote his advice for the educationof "Ephoebus" to warn fathers of the dangers of university life: "Tospeak plainly of the disorder of Athens [that is, Oxford] who does notse it and sorrow at it? Such playing at dice, such quaffing of drink,such daliaunce with women, such dauncing, that in my opinion there is noquaffer in Flaunders so given to tipplyng, no courtier in Italy so givento ryot, no creature in the world so misled as a student in Athens."Many return from the universities "little better learned, but a greatdeal worse lived, then when they went, and not only unthrifts of theirmoney, but also banckerouts of good manners."[110]
Greene did not fail to choose his associates among people of this sort,and with some of them he crossed over to the continent in his turn tovisit "Circe." "Being at the University of Cambridge, I light amongstwags as lewd as my selfe, with whome I consumed the flower of my youth,who drew me to travell into Italy and Spaine, in which places I saw andpractizde such villainie as is abhominable to declare...." He comesback, and after the pleasures and excitement of travel, ordinaryevery-day life seems to him tasteless; the mere idea of a regular careerof any sort is abhorrent to him. "At my return into England, I ruffeledout in my silks, in the habit of _Malcontent_, and seemed so discontentthat no place would please me to abide in, nor no vocation cause mee tostay myselfe in."[111]
In this uncertainty, and with his head full of Italian remembrances andromantic adventures, he thought, being not yet twenty, to try his handat writing. His first attempt was a novel, a love story in the Italianfashion, in which very much loving was to do for very little probabilityand less observation of character and nature. It was called "Mamillia";it was finished in 1580, and published three years later.
Greene at that time was again in Cambridge, and strange to say, amongthe many whims that crossed his mind, a fancy took him to apply himselfto study. Gifted as he was, this caused him no trouble; he acquired muchvaried knowledge, of which his writings show sufficient proof, and wasreceived M.A. in 1583.[112] He then left the university and went toLondon, where the most curious part of his life, that was to last onlynine years longer, began.
The reception awarded to "Mamillia" seems to have encouraged him tocontinue writing. It had, in fact, crude as it seems to us now, manyqualities that would ensure it a welcome: its style was euphuistic; itstone was Italian; its plot was intricate, and, lastly, there was verymuch love in it. He continued therefore in this vein, writing withextreme facility and rapidity improbable love stories, with wars, kings,and princesses, with euphuism and mythology, with Danish, Greek,Egyptian and Bohemian adventures. There was a "Myrrour of Modesty" whichhas for its heroine the chaste Susannah, a "Gwydonius, the card offancie," again a tale in the Italian style, an "Arbasto" which tells ofthe wars and loves of a Danish king, a "Morando," containing a series ofdiscussions and speeches on love, all of them entered or published in1584-6. Then came his "Planetomachia," 1585, where the several planetsdescribe and exemplify their influence on human fate; "Penelopes web,"1587, containing a succession of short stories; "Perimedes," 1588,imitated from Boccaccio; "Pandosto," a tale of Bohemian and Siciliankings and shepherds, which had an immense success, much greateraccording to appearances than the exquisite drama of a "Winter's Tale,"that Shakespeare drew from it. "Alcida," a story of the metamorphosis ofthree young love-stricken princesses of an island "under the poleantartike," was apparently published in the same year; "Menaphon," acharming pastoral tale, appeared in 1589, and several others followed.His popularity was soon considerable; his books were in all the shops;several went through an extraordinary number of editions; his name wasbetter known than any: "I became," says he, "an author of playes, and apenner of love pamphlets, so that I soone grew famous in that qualitie,"and who then "for that trade" was there "so ordinarie about London as_Robin Greene_?"[113]
As for his beginning to write plays, he has left a lively account of thecasual meeting which led to his becoming attached to a company ofplayers and to be for a time their playwright in ordinary. It was at amoment when his purse was empty; for as he quaintly puts it in one ofhis stories: "so long went the pot to the water, that at last it camebroken home; and so long put he his hand into his purse that at last theemptie bottome returned him a writt of _non est inventus_; for wellmight the divell dance there for ever a crosse to keepe him backe."[114]In this difficulty he met by chance a brilliantly dressed fellow whoseemed to be a cavalier, and happened to be a player. It is a well-knownfact that if scenery was scanty in Elizabethan play-houses, the players'dresses were very costly, and if need there was, this would be anadditional proof that no monetary consideration would have induced theyoung man who played, for example, the part of Shakespeare's Cleopatra,to appear in less than queenly ruffs and farthingales, such as Rogershas represented in his portrait of Elizabeth.
"What is your profession? said Roberto [that is, Robert Greene].[115]
"Truely, sir, said he, I am a player.
"A player, quoth Roberto; I tooke you rather for a gentleman of greatliving, for if by outward habit men should be censured, I tell you, youwoud be taken for a substantiall man.
"So am I, where I dwell, quoth the player, reputed able at my propercost, to build a windmill. What, though the worlde once went hard withme, when I was faine to carrie my playing fardle a footebacke; _temporamutantur_ ... it is otherwise now; for my share in playing apparell willnot be solde for two hundred pounds."
The player goes on relating his own successes, the parts he performs,and how he had been himself for a while the playwright of his troop, butthat had been some time ago; tastes are changing and his wit is now outof fashion: "Nay, more, I can serve to make a prettie speech, for I wasa countrie author, passing at a morall, for it was I that pende themoral of mans wit, the Dialogue of Dives, and for seaven yeeres spacewas absolute interpreter of the puppets. But now my Almanacke is out ofdate:
The people make no estimation Of morals teaching education.
"Was not this prettie for a plaine rime extempore? If ye will, ye shallhave more.
"Nay, it is enough, said Roberto, but how meane you to use mee?
"Why, sir, in making playes, said the other, for which you shall be wellpaid, if you will take the paines."
Greene did so, and with no mean success. He grew more and more famous,and, without becoming more wealthy, had the pleasure of being able tosquander at one time much larger sums of money than before: "Roberto wasnow famozed for an arch-playmaking-poet; his purse, like the sea,somtime sweld, anon like the same sea fell to a low ebb; yet seldom hewanted, his labors were so well esteemed."
He had not yet broken all connection with his birth-place and hisfamily, and some of his visits were for him memorable ones. During
oneof them he was seized with a sudden fit of repentance for the loose lifehe had been leading in London; the better man in him made himself heard,and he fell into such an abyss of misery and despair as to remind us ofthe great conversions of the Puritan epoch. In fact, his companions,when he again saw them, wondering at his altered countenance, called hima Puritan. "Once I felt a feare and horrour in my conscience, and thenthe terrour of Gods judgementes did manifestly teach me that my life wasbad, that by sinne I deserved damnation, and that such was the greatnesof my sinne that I deserved no redemption. And this inward motion Ireceived in St. Andrews church in the cittie of Norwich, at a lecture orsermon then preached by a godly learned man.... At this sermon theterrour of Gods judgementes did manifestly teach me, that my exerciseswere damnable, and that I should bee wipte out of the booke of life, ifI did not speedily repent my loosenes of life, and reforme mymisdemeanors."
In the same way, in the next century, George Fox the Quaker, JohnBunyan, and many others, were to find themselves awe-stricken at thethought of God's judgment; in the same way also, and in almost the samewords, the hero of a novel that was to be world-famous in the followingage was to express the sudden horror he felt when remorse began to preyupon him. "No one," wrote Robinson Crusoe, in his journal, "that shallever read this account will expect that I shall be able to describe thehorrors of my soul at this terrible vision." But Greene differed fromthem all by the short duration of his anxieties: "This good notionlasted not long in mee, for no sooner had I met with my copesmates, butseeing me in such a solemn humour, they demaunded the cause of my sadnes... they fell upon me in a jeasting manner, calling me Puritane andPresizian, and wished I might have a pulpit." And soon the good effectof the godly vision in St. Andrew's church wore away.
He allowed another chance of escaping his final doom to pass in the samemanner. Famous as he was all over the country, witty and brilliant, withsuch patrons as Leicester, Essex and Arundel, to whom several of hisworks are dedicated, he became acquainted with "a gentlemans daughter ofgood account." He loved her; his suit was favoured, and he married her,about 1586. He lived with her for a year and they had a boy; but sheobjected to his disorderly ways of life, and he, unable to alter them,"cast her off, having spent the marriage money." She returned toLincolnshire, he to London, and they never met again. That Greene,however, had felt within himself what it is to be a father is shown bythe exquisite "lullaby" he composed shortly after for Sephestia in his"Menaphon." It is the well-known song:
"Weepe not my wanton! smile upon my knee! When thou art olde, ther's griefe inough for thee! Mothers wagge, pretie boy, Fathers sorrow, fathers joy. When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and mee, He was glad, I was woe. Fortune changde made him so, When he left his pretie boy, Last his sorowe, first his joy.
* * * * *
Weepe not my wanton! smile upon my knee! When thou art olde, ther's griefe inough for thee! The wanton smilde, father wept; Mother cride, babie lept: More he crowde, more we cride; Nature could not sorowe hide. He must goe, he must kisse Childe and mother, babie blisse: For he left his pretie boy, Fathers sorowe, fathers joy."
ROBERT GREENE IN HIS SHROUD.
(_From Dickenson's "Greene in conceipt,"_ 1598.)]
In London he continued a favourite: "For these my vaine discourses [thatis, his love novels] I was beloved of the more vainer sort of people,who being my continuall companions came still to my lodging, and therewould continue quaffing, corowsing, and surfeting with me all the daylong." One of his best friends has corroborated his statement, giving atthe same time a graphic description of his physical appearance: "Heeinherited more vertues than vices," wrote Nash, "a jolly long red peake[beard] like the spire of a steeple he cherisht continually, withoutcutting, whereat a man might hang a jewell, it was so sharp and pendant... He had his faultes ... Debt and deadly sinne, who is not subjectto?... A good fellow he was ... In a night and a day would he have yarktup a pamphlet as well as in seaven yeare, and glad was that printer thatmight bee so blest to pay him deare for the very dregs of his wit. Hemade no account of winning credite by his workes ... His only care wasto have a spel in his purse to conjure up a good cuppe of wine with atall times."[116]
The few samples that have come to us of the talk in these meetings ofElizabethan literary men show, as might well have been supposed, that itwas not lacking in freedom. Greene himself has left an account of one ofthese conversations, when he expressed, Bohemia-wise, his opinions of afuture life and, without Aucassin's extenuating plea that he waslove-mad, he exclaimed: "Hell, quoth I, what talke you of hell to me? Iknow if I once come there, I shall have the company of better men thanmy selfe; I shall also meete with some madde knaves in that place, andso long as I shall not sit there alone, my care is the lesse. But youare mad folks, quoth I, for if I feared the judges of the Bench no morethan I dread the judgments of God, I would before I slept dive into onecarles bagges or other, make merrie with the shelles I found in them solong as they would last."[117]
His associations at that time were getting lower and lower. He wasleaving Bohemia for the mysterious haunts of robbers, sharpers, loosewomen, and "conny-catchers." He had once for a mistress the sister of afamous thief nicknamed Cutting Ball that ended his days on the gallows,and he had a child by her, called Fortunatus, who died in 1593. Hethought it a sort of atonement to communicate to the public theexperience he derived from his life among these people, and accordinglyprinted a series of books on "conny-catching," in which he unveiled alltheir tricks and malpractices. The main result was that they wanted tokill him.[118]
It was, in fact, too late to reform; all that was left for him was torepent, an empty repentance that no deed could follow. Though scarcelythirty his constitution was worn out. The alternations of excessivecheer and of scanty food had ruined his health; it was soon obvious thathe could not live much longer. One day a "surfet which hee had takenwith drinking"[119] brought him home to his room, in a poor shoemaker'shouse, who allowed him to stay there by charity on credit. He was not tocome out alive. His illness lasted some weeks, and as his brain powerwas unimpaired he employed his time in writing the last of hisautobiographical pamphlets. Considering the extravagance of his life, inwhich he had known so many successes, and the sorrows of his protractedillness, they read very tragically indeed. He addressed himself to thepublic at large, to his more intimate friends, to his wife confessinghis wrongs towards her, and asking pardon. Yet to the last, broken as hewas in body, he remained a literary man, and while confessing all roundand pardoning every one, he could not drop his literary animosities norforget his life-long complaint against plagiarists.
His complaint was one of which the world of letters was to hear muchmore in after time, and which in fact is constantly renewed in our ownday; it is the complaint of the novelist against the dramatist, claimingas his own incidents transferred by the playwright from readers tospectators. As novels proper were just beginning then in England, and asdrama was also beginning to spread, Greene's protest is one of the firston record, and thousands were to follow it. Strange to say of all themen of whom he complains, the one he has picked out to hold up todisdain and to scorn, and towards whom in his dying days he seems tohave entertained the strongest animosity, was a young man oftwenty-eight, who was just then becoming known, and whose fame was toincrease somewhat in after years, namely, William Shakespeare. Greenebeseeches the three principal friends he still had, Marlowe, Nash, andPeele, to cease writing plays; what is the good of it? others come, turnto account what has been written before them, give never a thank-you forit, and get the praise. Let them stop publishing and these new-comers,among them this "upstart" Shakespeare, unable as they obviously are toinvent anything, will have their careers cut short. Be warned by myfate, says Greene, and mind "those puppits ... that speake from ourmouths, those antick
s garnisht in our colours. Is it not strange that I,to whom they al have been beholding: is it not like that you to whomethey all have been beholding, shall (were ye in that case that I am now)be both at once of them forsaken? Yes, trust them not, for there is anupstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his _Tigers heartwrapt in a players hide_, supposes he is as well able to bombast out ablanke verse as the best of you; and being an absolute _Joannes factotum_, is in his owne conceit the onely shake-scene in a countrie. Othat I might intreate your rare wits to be imployed in more profitablecourses: and let those apes imitate your past excellence and never moreacquaint them with your rare inventions."[120]
This savage abuse of young Shakespeare, who had probably mended at thattime more plays than we know, and more, surely, than he had personallywritten, must not pass without the needful comment that his abuser was,according to his own testimony, as ready, for a trifle, to make anacquaintance and start a friendship as to turn a friend into a foe."Though," says he, "I knew how to get a friend, yet I had not the giftor reason how to keepe a friend." He quarrelled, in fact, with most ofthem, not excepting Nash and Marlowe, to whom he is now appealingagainst Shakespeare; and his prefaces contain numerous attacks on thewriters of the time. It must be remembered, too, how bitter was the endof poor Greene, how keenly he felt, he the boon companion _parexcellence_, finding himself "forsaken" in his need, and left alone inthe shoemaker's desolate room. It is curious to think that among the menwhose absence from his bedside he most resented was Shakespeare, andthat this want of a visit whetted his already ill-disposed mind intoexpressing the only abuse known to have been directed by hiscontemporaries against the author of "Hamlet."
Shakespeare, of course, did not answer;[121] his plea might have beenthat if he did not pay much attention to others' authorship, much lessdid he pay to his own; for he never published his own dramas, nor did heprotest when mangled versions of them were circulated by printers. Heonly showed that Greene's criticisms had not much affected him byturning later on another of the complainer's novels into a drama.Shakespeare's friend, Ben Jonson, who was not accustomed to so muchreserve, speaks very disparagingly of Greene; he represents him as beinga perfectly forgotten author in 1599, which was untrue, and as for theparticular work in which Shakespeare was abused, he describes it as onlyfit for the reading of crazy persons.
"_Trusty._ ... Every night they read themselves asleep on those books[one of the two being the "Groats-worth"].
"_Epicoene._ Good faith it stands with good reason. I would I knew whereto procure those books.
"_Morose._ Oh!
"_Sir Amorous La Foole._ I can help you with one of them, mistressMorose, the 'Groats-worth of wit.'
"_Epicoene._ But I shall disfurnish you, Sir Amorous, can you spare it?
"_La Foole._ O yes, for a week or so; I shall read it myself to him,"&c.[122]
With the exception just mentioned, Greene's thoughts were all turned torepentance. He had the consolation of receiving from his wife a kindlymessage on the eve of his death, "whereat hee greatly rejoiced,confessed that he had mightily wronged her, and wished that hee mightsee her before he departed. Whereupon, feeling his time was but short,hee tooke pen and inke and wrote her a letter to this effect:
"Sweet wife, as ever there was any good will or friendship betweene theeand mee, see this bearer (my host) satisfied of his debt: I owe himtenne pound, and but for him I had perished in the streetes. Forget andforgive my wronges done unto thee, and Almighty God have mercie on mysoule. Farewell till we meet in heaven, for on earth thou shalt neversee me more. This 2d of September, 1592. Written by thy dyinghusband."[123]
He died a day after.
III.
Greene's non-dramatic works are the largest contribution left by anyElizabethan writer to the novel literature of the day. They are of foursorts: his novels proper or romantic love stories, which he called hislove pamphlets; his patriotic pamphlets; his conny-catching writings, inwhich he depicts actual fact, and tells tales of real life forshadowingin some degree Defoe's manner; lastly, his Repentances, of which someidea has already been given.[124]
His love pamphlets, which filled the greatest part of his literarycareer, connect him with the euphuistic cycle, and he is assuredly oneof Lyly's legatees. Possessing a much greater fertility of inventionthan Lyly, he follows as closely as the original bent of his mind allowshim, the manner of his master. He is euphuistic in his style, wise inhis advice to his readers, and a great admirer of his own country.
His moral propensities do not lie concealed behind pretty descriptionsor adventures; they are stamped on the very first page of each of hisbooks and are expressly mentioned in their titles. In this too, like hismaster Lyly, he may be considered a precursor of Richardson. He writeshis "Mamillia" to entreat gentlemen to beware how, "under the perfectsubstaunce of pure love, [they] are oft inveigled with the shadowe oflewde luste;" his "Myrrour of Modestie" to show "howe the Lordedelivereth the innocent from all imminent perils and plagueth thebloudthirstie hypocrites with deserved punishments." "Euphues hiscensure to Philautus" teaches "the vertues necessary in everygentleman;" "Pandosto" shows that "although by the meanes of sinisterfortune truth may be concealed, yet by Time in spight of fortune, it ismost manifestly revealed."[125] Quiet, wealthy, comfortable Richardsonhad no better aim, and had, in fact, a very similar one, when he wrotehis "Pamela," as he is careful to state on the title-page, "in order tocultivate the principles of virtue and religion in the minds of theyouth of both sexes;" and his "Clarissa," to show "the distresses thatmay attend the misconduct both of parents and children in relation tomarriage." Be it said to the praise of both authors and readers, thismoral purpose so prominently stated did not in the least frighten thepublic of ladies, whose suffrage, the two men, different as they were inmost things, were especially courting. Richardson's popularity amongthem needs not to be recalled, and as for Greene, he was stated at thetime of his greater vogue to be nothing less than "the Homer ofwomen."[126]
Greene's praise of England is as constant as Lyly's; he is careful toshow that whatever appearances may be, he is proud to be a citizen ofLondon, not, after all, of Bohemia; if he represents himself shipwreckednear the coast of an island where, like Robinson Crusoe, he is aloneable to swim, finding the country pleasant, he describes it as "muchlike that faire England the flower of Europe."[127] Euphues' praise ofLondon is matched by Greene's description of its naval power in his"Royal Exchange": "Our citizens of London (Her Majesties royal fleetexcepted) have so many shyppes harboured within the Thames as wyll notonelie match with all the argosies, galleyes, galeons and pataches inVenice, but to encounter by sea with the strongest cittie in the wholeworld."[128] As for foreign women, Greene agrees with Lyly that they allpaint their faces, and cannot live without a lover. French women, forexample, are "beautifull," it is true, but "they have drugges ofAlexandria, minerals of Egypt, waters from Tharsus, paintings fromSpaine, and what to doe forsooth? To make them more beautifull thenvertuous and more pleasing in the eyes of men then delightful in thesight of God.... Some take no pleasure but in amorous passions, nodelight but in madrigals of love, wetting Cupid's wings with rose water,and tricking up his quiver with sweete perfumes."[129]
ANOTHER DRAGON. 1608.]
But Greene's style marked him most indelibly as a pupil of Lyly. He hastaken Euphues' ways of speech with all their peculiarities, and hassometimes crowded his tales with such a quantity of similes, metaphorsand antitheses as to beat his master himself on his own ground.[130]Here, again, we are in the middle of scorpions, crocodiles, dipsas, andwhat not. Take, for instance, "Philomela the lady Fitzwatersnightingale;"[131] as it is written expressly for ladies, and dedicatedto one of them, and as, in addition, the characters are of high rank,the novel is nearly one unbroken series of similes: "The greener thealisander leaves be, the more bitter is the sappe," says Philip, thejealous husband, to himself; "the salamander is most warm when it lyethfurthest from the fire;" thus his wife may well be as heart-hollow asshe seem
s lip-holy. He charges his friend Lutesio to tempt her, by wayof trial. "Lutesio," the lady replies to the young man's declaration,"now I see, the strongest oake hath his sap and his worms [and] thatravens will breed in the fayrest ash." These observations appearunanswerable to Lutesio, and the husband would share his conviction ifhe did not reflect that "the onix is inwardly most cold, when it isoutwardly most hot." The experiment must be tried again, and the friendreturns to the charge: "Madam, I have been stung with the scorpion andcannot be helpt or healed by none but by the scorpion."
"I see now," replies the lady to this compliment, "that hemlockewheresoever it bee planted, will be pestilent [and] that the serpentwith the brightest scales shroudeth the most fatall venome." Is thereanything more certain? But that does not prevent the halcyon fromhatching when the sea is calm, and the phoenix from spreading her wingswhen the sunbeams shine on her nest. This is what the husband remarks,and, guided by the onyx, the alexander, &c., after a mock trial, hedivorces his wife.
What did the people think of it? They thought "all was not golde thatglistered, ... that the Agate, bee it never so white without, yet it isfull of black strokes within."
During this time, Philomela, the wife who had been driven away, retiresto Palermo, where her knowledge of natural history allows her to observethat the more the camomile is trodden on, the faster it grows. Scarcelyseparated from her, the husband loses his confidence in the onyx andalexander, and sets out in search of her. He does not know her place ofretreat, but, happily, among all possible routes, he chooses preciselythat leading to Palermo. He finds his wife again, and his joy is sogreat that he is choked by it, and dies; a just punishment for hisconfidence in Lyly's botany.[132]
In the same way as patient Grisell's story had been in the same periodtransferred to the stage, this new example of feminine virtue, from thepen of the "Homer of women," was, in later years, worked into a drama.At that time Greene had long been dead and could not complain of the new"shake-scene" tortures inflicted upon him by Davenport.[133]
This story, characteristic as it is of Greene's style when he means tobe euphuistic, can scarcely be taken as a fair sample of theimprobability he is able to crowd into a single novel. Most of his tales(and in this he greatly differs from Lyly) take place we do not knowwhen, we do not know where, among men we have never anywhere comeacross. Learned as he was, versed in the Greek, Latin, French andItalian tongues, able to translate passages from the Italian of Ariosto,to dress in English language the charming "Debat de Folie etd'Amour"[134] of Louise Labe, to imitate (as he thought) Cicero's style,while describing (as he thought) the great orator's loves,[135] his turnof mind was as little critical as can be imagined, and his widepopularity served to spread geographical and historical absurdities,some of which were preserved by Shakespeare himself, for the amusementof a learned posterity. Greene's picture of Ulysses' Penelope is notmore Greek than the exquisite painting by Pinturicchio at the NationalGallery, where the wise king of Ithaca appears under the guise of ared-hosed Italian youth with flowing hair; while his wife sits at her"web" in a Florentine blue dress. In Greene, Penelope is representedtelling stories to while away the time, which, unless we endow her witha prophetical gift, are impossibilities. Her first story begins thus:"Saladyne the Souldan of AEgipt, who by his prowesse had made a generallconquest of the south-east part of ye world tooke to wife Barmenissa,the onely daughter and heire of the great chan." No wonder that suchtales could chain the attention and awaken the curiosity of her maids,and keep them quiet till the time when "a messenger came hastily rushingin, who tolde Penelope that Ulisses was arryved that night within theport of Ithaca.... Penelope called for her sonne and that night sent himpost to the sea."[136]
Not less wonderful are the stories of "Arbasto," King of Denmark, or of"Pandosto," King of Bohemia. They may be taken as typical specimens ofthe sort of romantic novel the Elizabethan public enjoyed, and which wassure to make an author popular. We must remember when reading thesetales that they were the fashion, the craze, at a time when "MidsummerNight's Dream" and "Romeo and Juliet" were being played. Chaotic,improbable, and in some parts ridiculous as they appear to us, theywould have made their author wealthy if anything could, so much so that,as we have seen, the publishers, according to Nash, consideredthemselves "blest to pay Greene deare for the very dregs of his wit." Hewas, if anything, an author that sold. What were his wares?
In "Arbasto" Greene represents himself reaching in his travels theisland of Candia. He meets in a cell a solitary old man, and without anyceremony makes bold to ask him for his story. The old man is at firstsomewhat shocked at this inquisitiveness, and gets very angry; but hegrows calmer and complies. He is Arbasto, late King of Denmark, and wasonce very happy: "I feared not the force of forraigne foes, for I knewenone but were my faithfull friends," says he, in a style that remindsone of the King Herod of miracle-plays. Living in such content, hethought it advisable to invade France, where at that time a king wasreigning, named Pelorus, about whom chroniclers are silent. Arbasto camestraight to Orleans, and after some siege operations, "had so shaken thewalles with cannon shot, that they were forced to strengthen them withcounter mures."
A three months' truce is agreed to on both sides, and the two sovereignsentertain each other. At the French court, Arbasto meets the twodaughters of the king, Myrania and Doralicia, two wonderful creatures,especially the latter, who was "so adorned with more then earthlieperfection as she seemed to be framed by nature to blemishe nature, andthat beautie had skipt beyond her skil in framing a peece of suchcurious workemanship." Arbasto cannot cease gazing at her; he addressesto himself euphuistic speeches several pages long, but they do him nogood. It so happens that while his love is set on Doralicia, the otherprincess falls in love with him. But this again does him no good. Heceases to find anything worth living for; even the possible destructionof France seems to him tasteless. His nobles observe his changed mood,and wonder, and his confidant, Duke Egerio, vainly tries on him theeffect of a new series of euphuistic examples and similes. Arbastocontinues loving, and Doralicia perseveres in her coldness; they meetonce, and argue one against the other with the help of salamanders andscorpions, and empty their whole herbaria over each other's head; butthings remain _in statu_.
King Pelorus, who, for all that, does not lose his head, offers Arbastoan interview in Orleans to sign the peace. Arbasto comes, the gates areshut, he is thrown into prison; his army is cut to pieces, and a greatscaffold is erected in a conspicuous place, on which the prisoner is tobe publicly executed in ten days' time.
The royal Dane tries to console himself in his prison with what remainsof his herbarium and zoology. But better help comes in the shape of theloving princess, Myrania, who is resolved to save him. By her commandher maid entices the gaoler to her room, and causes him to tread "upon afalse bord" that had apparently been there in all times, ready for thisvery emergency. The gaoler falls "up to the shoulders;" then hedisappears into a hole, where he dies, and his keys are taken from him.
Arbasto is very happy, and promises Myrania to love and marry her; theygo "covertly out of the citie, passing through France with manyfearefull perils" and reach Denmark. Pelorus and Doralicia are extremelyangry; she even takes to "blaspheming ... but as words breake no bones,so we cared the lesse for her scolding."
But Arbasto learns to his cost that no man when truly in love can ceaseto love as he pleases. Before keeping his word to Myrania he wants oncemore to appeal to her fair sister. But the fair sister continues in herblaspheming mood, and sends a very sharp and contemptuous answer.
Both letters fall into the hands of Myrania, who is so struck by thispiece of treachery that she dies of her sorrow; hearing which Pelorusrather unexpectedly dies of his sorrow for her death. Doralicia then isqueen, and at last discovers that in the innermost part of her heartthere is love for Arbasto. She writes accordingly, but the Dane thistime returns a contemptuous answer. Receiving which, the poor Frenchqueen dies of her sorrow. And thereupon, for no apparent reason, exce
ptto add yet more sorrow to the conclusion of this tragical tale, theconfidant of the Danish king turns traitor, usurps his crown, andArbasto goes to Candia, where Greene had the good fortune to hear fromhis own lips this wondrous and authentic tale. "Merry and tragical!tedious and brief!" as Duke Theseus would think.
However complete the success awarded to Arbasto's adventures, it wasnothing compared with the popularity of "Pandosto." If this was not thebest it was the most famous of Greene's tales. The plot is well known,for Shakespeare, unmoved by the dying maledictions of his latecompanion, drew from it the materials of his "Winter's Tale" (1611?). Hekept many of the improbabilities of Greene, rejected a few, and addedsome of his own. But the great change he made was to give life to theheroes, and as they had been shaped by Greene they sorely needed it.Rarely did a more unlikely and a cruder tale come from the pen of ournovelist.
The events of the story take place among kings and shepherds: "In thecountrey of Bohemia there raygned a king called Pandosto." This is theusual beginning of novels of the time; hundreds of them commence in thismanner;[137] the very first lines transport the reader to an unknowncountry, and place him before an unknown king, and if, after readingonly those few words, he is surprised to find himself entangled inextraordinary, inexplicable adventures, he must be of a very naivedisposition. But in Elizabethan times adventures were liked for theirown sake; probability was only a very secondary motive of enjoyment."Pandosto," in any case, deserves our attention, for, if it commencedlike many other novels of the time, it led, as we have said, to"Winter's Tale," to which it is worth while to go. When the two are readtogether and compared, it seems as if Shakespeare had chosen on purposeone of the worst of Greene's tales, to show by way of an answer to theaccusations of the dead writer, that he was able to form something outof nothing. Greene had, in truth, only modelled the clay; Shakespeareused it, adding the soul.
Greene simply states his facts and takes little trouble about explainingthem; the reader must rest satisfied with the author's bare word. Thereis no attempt at the study of passions; his heroes change their mindsall of a sudden, with the stiff, sharp, improbable action of puppets ina show. Pandosto (Leontes) loves and hates, and becomes jealous, andrepents always in the same brusque wire-and-wood manner; the warmth ofhis passions, so great and terrible in Shakespeare, is here simplyabsent; when he begins to suspect his friend Egistus (Polixenes) offeeling an unlawful love for Bellaria (Hermione), we are barely informedthat the Bohemian king "concluded at last to poyson him." When Dorastusand Fawnia (Florizel and Perdita) seek refuge in Pandosto's kingdom,Pandosto at once falls in love with his own daughter, Fawnia, whom hedoes not know; then on the receipt of a letter from Egistus, "having hisformer love turned to a disdainful hate," he wishes to have her killed.Very differently is the couple received by Shakespeare's Leontes:
"Were I but twenty-one, Your father's image is so hit in you, His very air, that I should call you brother, As I did him; and speak of something wildly By us performed before. Most dearly welcome! And you, fair princess, goddess!--O, alas, I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth Might thus have stood, begetting wonder as You gracious couple do."
In Greene the exquisite figure of Perdita appears as a very rough sketchunder the name of Fawnia. She loves her Dorastus not merely because heis lovable, but because "hoping in time to be advaunced from thedaughter of a poore farmer to be the wife of a riche king." Dorastuscomes to her disguised as a shepherd, and as she does not recognize him"she began halfe to forget Dorastus and to favor this prety shepheardwhom she thought shee might both love and obtaine." It would be cruel tomake further comparisons, but it is necessary to say thus much in orderto show what a hold adventures, however crude, surprises, unexpectedmeetings and recognitions, had upon Elizabethan minds. They were quitesufficient to insure success; to add life and poetry was very well, butby no means necessary. Shakespeare did so because he could not dootherwise; and he did it thoroughly, as was his wont, endowing with hislife-giving faculty the most insignificant personage he foundembryo-like in Greene. The least of them has, in Shakespeare, his ownmoods, his sensitiveness, a mind and a heart that is his and his alone;even young Mamillius, the child who lives only the length of one scene,is not any child, but tells his tale, his sad tale, with a grace that isall his own.
"A sad tale's best for winter. ... I will tell it softly; Yond crickets shall not hear it."
Living people, too, are his Paulina, his Antigonus, his Camillo, hisAutolycus, all of them additions of his own creation. Living also, hisshepherds, for whom he received only insignificant hints from Greene. In"Pandosto" we hear of "a meeting of all the farmers daughters inSycilia," without anything more, and from this Shakespeare drew the ideaof his sheep-shearing feast, where he delights in contrasting with therough ways of his peasants the inborn elegance of Perdita: "OProserpina," says she, in her delicious mythological prattle:
"For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou lett'st fall From Dis's wagon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares ..."
And Florizel, wondering at her with his young admiring eyes, answers inthe same strain:
"When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever; when you sing, I'd 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."
Very different is the old shepherd's tone; though kindly, it is quiteconformable to his estate and situation:
"Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all, Would sing her song, and dance her turn; now here, At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; On his shoulder and his; her face o' fire With labour, and the thing she took to quench it, She would to each one sip. You are retired, As if you were a feasted one, and not The hostess of the meeting."
Never has the language of country people been better transferred toliterature; their manners, tone, and language in Shakespeare haveremained true to nature even to the present day, so much so that it isdifficult, while writing, not to think of harvest and vintage scenes,which every year brings round again in our French valleys, and the sortof kindly talk very similar to the old shepherd's that many of usremember, as well as I do, to have heard in the country, from peasantassociates in early days. This unsurpassed fidelity to nature is themore remarkable as it dates from the Arcadian times of Englishliterature, days that were to last long, even down to the time of Popeand of Thomson himself, to stop at Burns, when at last a deeper, if nottruer, note was to be struck.
But with regard to mere facts, Shakespeare was in no way more carefulthan Greene, and he seems to have known, and it was in fact visibleenough, the greediness of his public to be such that, ostrich like, theywould swallow anything. He, therefore, changed very little. In Greene,ships "sail into Bohemia," a feat that cannot be repeated to-day; theQueen is tried by a jury "panelled" for that purpose; the nobles go "tothe isle of Delphos, there to enquire of the oracle of Apollo whethershe had committed adultery." Very much the same things happen inShakespeare. The survival of Hermione is his own invention; in Greeneshe dies for good at the beginning of the novel, when she hears of thedeath of her son. With the same aptitude to die for no other cause thanto improve a story, Pandosto dies also in Greene's tale: he rememberedhis faults and "fell in a melancholie fit, and to close up the comediewith a tragicall stratageme he slewe himselfe." Merry and tragical! Butotherwise Dorastus and Fawnia would have had to wait before becomingking and queen, and such a waiting was against the taste of the time andthe rules of novel writing.
Such as it is, Greene's tale had an extraordinary success. WhileShakespeare's drama was not printed, either in authentic or piratedshape, before the appearance of the 1623 folio, the prose story had anumber of editions throughout the seventeenth century and even,
underone shape or another, throughout the eighteenth. It was printed as achap-book during this last period, and in this costume began a new life.It was turned into verse in 1672, under the title, "Fortune's tennisball: or the most excellent history of Dorastus and Fawnia, rendred intodelightful english verse";[138] it begins with this "delightful"invocation:
"Inspire me gentle love and jealousie, Give me thy passion and thy extasie, While to a pleasant ayr I strik the strings Singing the fates of lovers and of kings."
But the highest and most extraordinary compliment to Greene'sperformance was its translation into French, not only once, as has beensaid, but twice. The first time was at a moment when the Englishlanguage and literature were practically unknown and as good asnon-extant to French readers. It appeared in 1615, and was dedicated to"tres haute and tres illustre princesse, Madame Christine Soeur duRoy."[139] The second translation, that has never yet been noticed, wasmade at a time when France had a novel literature of its own well worthreading, and when Boileau had utterly routed and discomfited the writersof romantic and improbable tales. Nevertheless, it was thought that apublic would be found in Paris for Greene's novel, and it was printedaccordingly in French in 1722, this time adorned with engravings.[140]They show "Doraste" dressed as a marquis of Louis XV.'s time; while"Pandolphe" wears a flowing wig under his cocked hat, and sits on athrone in rococo style. A copy of the book was purchased for the royallibrary, and is still to be seen at the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris,with the crown and cipher of his Most Christian Majesty on the cover.
Greene's story of "Menaphon"[141] is hardly more probable, but it takesplace in the country of Arcadia, a fact that predisposes us to treatwith indulgence any lack of reality; moreover, it contains touches oftrue poetry, and is perhaps, all considered, the best of Greene'sromantic novels. In common with most of this author's tales it aboundsin monologues and dialogues; heroes think aloud and let us into theirsecret thoughts, a device adapted from the classic drama and very commonin all the English novels of the period. There is also, according toGreene's custom, a great abundance of songs and verses, the best piecebeing the lullaby quoted above. Propriety and the truth of charactersare not much better observed here than in Greene's other stories.Everybody in this romance speaks with infinite grace and politeness. Theshepherd Menaphon, introducing himself to the Princess Sephestia and herchild, who have been cast ashore through a shipwreck, says to them:"Strangers, your degree I know not, therefore pardon if I give lessetitle than your estates merit." And, falling desperately in love withthe beautiful young woman, who gives as her name Samela of the island ofCyprus, he describes to her with ardour and not without grace thepastoral life that he would like to lead with her: "I tell thee, fairenymph, these plaines that thou seest stretching southward, are pasturesbelonging to Menaphon: ther growes the cintfoyle, and the hyacinth, thecowsloppe, the primrose and the violet, which my flockes shall spare forflowers to make thee garlands, the milke of my ewes shall be meate forthy pretie wanton, the wool of the fat weathers that seemes as fine asthe fleece that Jason fet from Colchos, shall serve to make Samelawebbes withall; the mountaine tops shall be thy mornings walke, and theshadie valleies thy evenings arbour: as much as Menaphon owes shall beat Samelas command if she like to live with Menaphon."
The romance goes on its way, strewn with songs whose refrains of variedand tuneful metres afford charming melody. In the end two knights,Melicertus and Pleusidippus, both enamoured of Sephestia, fight a duel;they are separated. The king of the country interferes, andcomprehending nothing of these intricate love affairs, he is on thepoint of cutting off all their heads, when it is discovered thatMelicertus is the long lost husband of Sephestia; the other duellist isthe child of the shipwrecked woman, who, in the course of the tale, hasbeen stolen from her on the shore and has grown up in hiding. Theyembrace one another; and, as for Menaphon, whose sweetheart findsherself thus provided with a sufficiently fond husband and son, hereturns to his old love, Pesana, who had had patience to wait for him,doubtless without growing old: for, in these romances, people do notgrow old. Pleusidippus has become a man, without the least change in hismother's face; she has remained as beautiful as in the first page ofthe book, and is, according to appearances, still "sweet-and-twenty."
In his tales of this sort Greene was mostly describing delights withwhich he was not personally acquainted, lands of which he had nopractical knowledge, princely adventures for which no historian couldvouch. He was perfectly free and unimpeded. The taste of the public wassimilar to his; no Boileau was there to stop him, and he wroteaccordingly, following his fancy, not caring in the least for nature andpossibility, letting his pen go as fast as it would, and turning out "ina night and a day" a tale like his "Menaphon." But if he did not chooseto paint from life and to describe realities in his "love pamphlets," hedid so on purpose, not because he was unable to do it. In several of hisother writings his subject was such that the work would have beennothing if not true; and there we find a clear view of human passions,foibles and peculiarities, which show that if the taste of the romancereaders of the time had been such as to encourage him in this line, hewould have proved no mean realistic novelist. His Repentances abound inportraits and scenes, showing the keen eye he had for realities. Hisconny-catching literature is full of exact descriptions of the sordidlife of the sharpers and low courtesans of Elizabethan London. In morethan one of these pamphlets he foreshadows, though I need not say with amuch lesser genius, the "Moll Flanders" and the "Colonel Jack" of alater period. The resemblance is especially great in the "Life and deathof Ned Browne,"[142] in which the hero, according to the custom inpicaresque novels, of which more hereafter, himself tells his own storyin the first person. Greene is particularly bitter in his denunciationsof the professional courtesans of London, about whom he knew probablymore than any of his contemporaries. But with all the hatred he felttowards them so long as he had pen in hand, he cannot help repeatingthat, however objectionable they are in many ways, they have forthemselves this advantage, that they are extremely beautiful, so that iftheir morals are exactly the same as in other countries they excel atleast in something which in itself is not contemptible. They are "akinde of women bearing the faces of Angels, but the hearts of devils,able to intrap the elect if it were possible."[143] Greene had nopretension to be one of the elect, and was only too often "intraped";but for all his miseries his words show a scarcely less intenseadmiration for his diabolical angels than Des Grieux's famous rapturousphrase when he meets Manon on her way to the ship that is to convey herto America: "Son linge etait sale et derange; ses mains delicatesexposees a l'injure de l'air; enfin tout ce compose charmant, _cettefigure capable de ramener l'univers a l'idolatrie_, paraissait dans undesordre et un abattement inexprimables." "Again," writes Greene: "letme say this much, that our curtizans ... are far superiour inartificiall allurement to them of all the world, for, although theyhave not the painting of Italie, nor the charms of France, nor thejewelles of Spaine, yet they have in their eyes adamants that wil draweyouth as the jet the strawe.... Their lookes ... containe modesty,mirth, chastity, wantonness and what not."[144]
Besides the personal reminiscences with which he made up his repentancetales and stories, Greene as an observer of human nature is seen at hisbest in his curious, and at the time famous, dialogue "between velvetbreeches and cloth breeches."[145] It is in fact a disputation betweenold England and new England; the England that built the strong housespraised by Harrison, and the England that adorned itself with theBurghley House paper work; traditional England and italianate England.Velvet breeches is "richly daubde with gold, and poudred with pearle,"and is "sprung from the auncient Romans, borne in Italy, the mistresseof the worlde for chivalry." Cloth breeches is of English manufactureand descent, and deplores the vices that have crept into "this gloriousIland" in the wake of Italian fashions. Both plead before Greene, eachgiving very graphic accounts of the behaviour of the other. Here, forexample, is a scene, assuredly from the life, at a barber's shop
:
"Velvet breeches he sittes downe in the chaire wrapt in fine cloathes... then comes [the barber] out with his fustian eloquence, and making alow conge, saith:
VELVET BREECHES AND CLOTH BREECHES, 1592.]
"Sir, will you have your wor[ship's] haire cut after the Italian maner,shorte and round, and then frounst with the curling yrons, to make itlooke like a halfe moone in a miste? or like a Spanyard, long at theeares and curled like the two endes of an old cast periwig? or will yoube Frenchified, with a love locke downe to your shoulders, wherein youmay weare your mistresse favour? The English cut is base and gentlemenscorne it, novelty is daintye; speake the woord sir, and my sissars areready to execute your worships wil.
"His head being once drest, which requires in combing and rubbing sometwo howers, hee comes to the bason: then being curiously washt with nowoorse then a camphire bal, he descends as low as his berd, and askethwhether he please to be shaven or no, whether he will have his peak cutshort and sharpe, amiable like an _inamorato_, or broad pendant like aspade, to be terrible like a warrior and a Soldado ... if it be hispleasure to have his appendices primed or his mustachios fostered toturn about his eares like ye branches of a vine...."
The question pending between cloth and velvet is submitted to a jury;men of the various professions are called and accepted, or rejected,according to their merit; each is described, often in a very livelymanner. Here is, for example, the portrait of a poet or rather of _the_poet of the Elizabethan period; for the specimen here represented standsas a type for all his class; and it is worth notice, for if Shakespearehimself was different, many of his associates at the "Mermaid," we maybe sure, well answered the description. "I espied far off a certain kindof an overworne gentleman, attired in velvet and satin; but it wassomewhat dropped and greasie, and bootes on his legges, whose soleswexed thin and seemed to complaine of their maister, which treadingthrift under his feet, had brought them unto that consumption. He walkednot as other men in the common beaten way, but came compassing_circumcirca_, as if we had beene divells and he would draw a circleabout us, and at every third step he looked back as if he were afraid ofa baily or a sarjant." Cloth Breeches, who seems to be describing hereGreene himself, is not too severe in his appreciation of the characterof the poor troubled fellow: "If he have forty pound in his pursetogether, he puts it not to usury, neither buies land nor merchandisewith it, but a moneths commodity of wenches and capons. Ten pound asupper, why tis nothing if his plough goes and his ink horne be cleere... But to speak plainely I think him an honest man if he would but livewithin his compasse, and generally no mans foe but his own. Therefore Ihold him a man fit to be of my jury."
Judgment is passed in favour of cloth England against velvet England;and in this ultra-conservative sentence the views of the Bohemiannovelist are summed up in this premature essay on the "philosophy ofclothes."
IV.
The fame and success of Greene encouraged writers to follow his example.He had shown that there was a public for novels, and that it was a sortof literature that would pay, both in reputation and money. He had,therefore, many rivals and imitators who were thus only second-handdisciples of Lyly. Among these Nicholas Breton and Emmanuel Ford may betaken as examples. Both were his contemporaries, but survived him manyyears. In both traces of euphuism survive, but they are faint; at thetime they wrote euphuism was on the wane, and it is only on rareoccasions that Ford reminds us that "the most mightie monarch Alexander,aswel beheld the crooked counterfeit of Vulcan as the sweet picture ofVenus. Philip of Macedon accepted...."[146]
What Ford especially imitated from Greene was the art of writingromantic tales with plenty of adventures, unexpected meetings anddiscoveries, much love, and improbabilities enough to enchantElizabethan readers and sell the book up to any number of editions. Inthis he rivalled his model very successfully, and his romances wereamong the most popular of the time of Shakespeare. The number of theireditions was extraordinary, and they were renewed at almost regularintervals up to the eighteenth century; there was a far greater demandfor them than for any play of Shakespeare.[147] Besides imitatingGreene, who obviously revealed to him the success to be won by writingromantic tales, he imitated at the same time the Italians and theSpaniards, introducing into his romances a licentiousness quite unknownto Greene, but well known to Boccaccio, and heroic adventures similar tothose his friend Anthony Munday was just then putting into English.These last were to be the chief delight of novel-readers in theseventeenth century, and did more than anything for the great popularityof Ford's novels during that period.
Ford's earliest and most characteristic work was called "Parismus, therenowned prince of Bohemia ... conteining his noble battailes foughtagainst the Persians ... his love to Laurana ... and his straungeadventures in the desolate Iland," &c., &c.[148] As the title informs usthere are loves and wars in this romance, deeds of valour and ofsorcery, there are pageants and enchanters. The adventures take place inpurely imaginary lands, which the author is pleased to call Bohemia,Persia, &c., but which might have been as well baptized Tartary orMongolia. The manners and costumes, however, when there is an attempt atdescribing them, are purely Elizabethan. There are masques such as wereshown at court in Shakespeare's time, and during one such fete, as in"Romeo and Juliet," Parismus for the first time declares his love toLaurana: "The maskers entred in this sort: first entred two torchbearers, apparelled in white satten, beset with spangles of gold, afterwhom followed two Eunuches, apparelled all in greene, playing on twoinstruments, then came Parismus attired all in carnation satten ... nextfollowed ... when came two knights ... next followed ..."[149] and soon; in the same style as in Shakespeare's play, "enter Romeo, Mercutio,Benvolio, with five or six maskers, torch-bearers and others."[150] But,alas, this is the only place where there is any resemblance between thetwo styles; though the situation developes under Ford's pen in a mannerto suggest that he must have read "Romeo" not without a purpose. Had hispurpose been to show his contemporaries the height of Shakespeare'sgenius by giving, side by side with it, the measure of an ordinary mind,he could not have tried better nor succeeded less. For contemporariesand successors consumed innumerable editions of "Parismus," and only tooeasily numbered editions of "Romeo."
Parismus and Laurana talk, in the midst of the ball, of their new-bornlove, and after an exchange of highly polite phrases she thus confessesher feelings: "My noble lord ... I heartily thanke you for taking somuch paines for my sake, being unwoorthie thereof, and also unable tobee sufficiently thankfull unto you for the same, and for that you sayyour happinesse resteth in my power, if I can any way work your contentto the uttermost of my endeavour I will do it." Parismus, of course, hasnothing to answer except that no one could require more.
It had been, however, with her also, love at first sight; but Lauranadoes not say:
"Go, ask his name: if he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed."
She is far too well bred and courtly, and she explains as follows whatshe has felt: "My Lord, I assure you, that at such time as I sawe youcomming first into this court, my heart was then surprised, procured, asI think by the destinies, that ever since I have vowed to rest yours."This speech is made at a nightly garden meeting, similar to the onewhere Romeo went "with love's light wings," and where was heard thesweetest and gravest lovers' music that ever enchanted human ears:
"At lovers' perjuries, They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I will frown and be perverse.... Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say, It lightens." ...
He of Bohemia had not come with "love's light wings," but "somewhatbefore the hour, was gone forth in his night gowne, with his swordeunder his arme, and comming to the gate he was wont to goe in at intothe gardeine, found it shut, and having no other meanes, h
e gott overthe wall." We picture him clambering over the wall, his night-gownflowing about him to do duty for love's wings. The lovers meet, and"thus they spent the night in kinde salutations and curteous imbracingsto the unspeakable joy and comfort of them both."
To complete the external resemblance of the two situations, there is inFord's novel a young lord to play the part of "County Paris." He iscalled Sicanus, and Laurana's family greatly favours his suit: "Laurana,my cheefest care is to see thee married, according to thy state, whichhath made me send for thee, to know whether thou hast alreadie placedthy affection or no: otherwise there is come into this country, a knightof great estate," &c., &c. "Laurana departed with a heavie heart."
Then again, as in "Romeo," there is another meeting of the lovers, thistime in Laurana's chamber; and they spend the hours "in sweetegreetings, but farre from anie thought of unchastnesse, their imbracingsbeing grounded upon the most vertuous conditions that might bee: andsitting together upon the beds side, Laurana told him...." As in Romeo,they are parted by morn:
"Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark.... --It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.... --Yond light is not daylight...."
A very different morn shines in at Laurana's windows: "Nowe the dismallhoure of their parting being approached, by reason of the light that thesunne began to give into the chamber, Parismus taking Laurana in hisarmes, drawing sweete breath from her lippes, told her that now, to hisgreefe, he must leave her to be courted by his enemie."
Without any very great grief on our side we shall leave them to followfrom this point a series of adventures very different from Romeo's.Parismus becomes a chief of outlaws, and acquires great fame under thename of the Black Knight; he wages war against Sicanus, he encountersyoung Violetta, and their meetings read like a tale from Boccacciorather than like a play of Shakespeare; at last he marries Laurana"with admirable pompe" in the "temple of Diana." We shall leave them inthis holy place, though many more adventures are in store for them. Weshall only state that Ford, encouraged by the great success of thisfirst attempt, wrote several other novels exactly in the same style,containing the same improbable monsters and wonders, and the samelicentious adventures. In spite, however, of the condemnation hesuffered at the hands of wise people on account of the undeniableimmorality of several of his episodes, his reputation went on increasingfor years and long survived him.[151]
Another follower of Greene was Nicholas Breton,[152] eighteen years hissenior; but he did not begin novel-writing until after the death of hismodel, when this kind of literature had taken a firm hold of the public.Very little euphuism remains in Breton; we do not find in him thoseclusters of similes with which Lyly and Greene were fond of adorningtheir novels, and alliteration is there only to remind us that throughGreene, Breton may be considered a secondary legatee of Lyly. Thesubjects and the form of his writings, much better than his style, provehim a pupil of Greene. He imitated his dialogues, publishing insuccession his conference "betwixt a scholler and an angler," hisdiscussion between "wit and will"; his disputation of a scholar and asoldier, "the one defending learning, the other martiall discipline,"and several others on travels, on court and country, &c. He imitatedGreene's tales of low life, anticipating in his turn Defoe's novels,with his "Miseries of Mavillia;" he remained, however, far below thelevel not only of Defoe, but of Greene, whose personal knowledge of themisfortunes he was describing enabled him to give in his writings ofthis kind pictures of reality that contrasted strangely with thefanciful incidents of his romantic novels. The only things worthremembering in these "miseries," besides their subject, are a fewthoughtful observations such as the one (in alliterative style) whichopens the story: "Sorrow sokes long ere it slayes; care consumes beforeit killes; and destinie drives the body into much miserie, before theheart be strooken dead;" a far juster observation than Greene's fancies,according to which heroes of novels may be got rid of as quickly bysorrow as by poison or apoplexy.
There are also in Breton imitations of the romantic novel of Italianorigin such as Greene understood it and such as the Elizabethan publicloved it. Breton published in 1600 his "Strange fortunes of twoexcellent princes," which his modern editor does not hesitate to declare"a bright and characteristic little book." This little masterpiecebegins thus, in very characteristic fashion indeed: "In the Ilandes ofBalino, neere unto the city of Dulno, there lived a great duke namedFirente.... This lord had to wife a sweete ladie called Merilla, acreature of much worth.... This blessed lord and ladie had issue male,onlie one sonne named Penillo and female one onlie daughter namedMerilla." These two children were famous for their wit and beauty. "ButI will ... entreat of another Duke, who dwelt in the Ilands ofCotasie.... This duke had to name Ordillo, a man famous for much worthas well in wit as valour.... This duke had to wife a gratious ladie....She had by her lord the duke two blessed children, a sonne and adaughter; her sonne named Fantiro and her daughter Sinilla." These twochildren begat wonder for their wit and their beauty.
Such is the introduction. What do you think will follow? That the twoperfect young men will marry the two unique young women? This is exactlywhat happens; and the only perceptible interest in the tale is to seefrom what improbable incidents such likely consequences are derived. Wecan safely, it seems, class this novel in the same category as"Arbasto," "Mamillia," and other products of Greene's pen; not, however,without remarking that Breton's stories, as well as those of his model,were not meant to delight nurseries, but were destined to give pleasureto grown-up people, to people in society; they were offered them as_jucunda oblivia vitae_, exactly in the same fashion as the three-volumenovels of to-day. Breton himself is positive on this point, and he hasbeen careful to inform us that his intention was to write things "whichbeing read or heard in a winters evening by a good fire, or a summersmorning in the greene fields may serve both to purge melancholy fromthe minde and grosse humours from the body."[153]
Again, he was connected with the Greene and Lyly group by the pleasurehe felt in composing imaginary letters. A number of such letters hadbeen inserted by Lyly in his "Euphues," and had proved one of theattractions of the book; Greene and the other novelists of the periodnever missed an opportunity of making their heroes write to each other,and they always transcribed their letters in full, a process inheritedfrom the romance writers of the Middle Ages. Breton, following theexample already given by some of his contemporaries, went beyond that,and published a volume of imaginary letters from everybody to anybody onany subject, many of them rather coarse, some good, some rather slow intheir gait and heavy in their wit.[154] The public taste was sodecidedly in favour of these compositions that this was the mostsuccessful of Breton's enterprises. It was often reprinted; a number ofsimilar collections were circulated in the seventeenth century, andtheir popularity had not abated when Richardson was asked, by thepublishers Osborne and Rivington, to compose one for country people. Hedid so, and the only difference, and a sufficiently important one, wasthat in his series the letters were connected by the thread of a story.
Greene had a rival of much higher stature in his friend Thomas Lodge.Lodge was a little older than Greene, and survived him long, so that hehappened to be a contemporary both of Greene and of his imitators. Herivalled Greene, but did not imitate him, being himself a direct legateeof Lyly. The sort of life he led differed greatly from that of hisfriend, but it was scarcely less characteristic of the period. Lodge wasthe son of a rich London grocer who had been Lord Mayor. Born in 1557,he had known Lyly at Oxford; had studied law; then, yielding to thosedesires of seeing the dangers and beauties of the world which drove theEnglish youths of the period to seek preferment abroad, he closed hisbooks for a while, and became a corsair, visiting the Canary Isles,Brazil, and Patagonia. He brought back, as booty from his expeditions,romances written at sea to beguile the tedium of the passage and theanxieties of the tempest. One was c
alled "The Margarite of America";another "Rosalynde." The latter fell into Shakespeare's hands andpleased him; he drew from it the plot of "As you like it."[155] Comingbefore the literary public, Lodge does not altogether forget hisprofession of corsair, and in order to deprive the critics of thetemptation to sneer, he is careful to brandish his rapier from time totime, and to write prefaces that make one's hair stand on end. "Roomefor a souldier and a sailer, that gives you the fruits of his laborsthat he wrote in the Ocean!" he cries to the reader at the beginning ofhis "Rosalynde," and let fault-finders keep silence; otherwise he willthrow them overboard "to feed cods."
After such a warning there would be nothing it seems but to hold ourtongue; but perhaps, taking the practical side of the question, we mayconsider that by this time Lodge's rapier must have grown very rusty,and would not offer more danger than any critic is bound to incur inthe performance of his duty. Besides that admiration may in allsincerity be blended with criticism when it is a question of Lodge'smasterpiece, "Rosalynde."
The tale itself bears a somewhat curious history. Twice at two hundredyears' distance it took the fancy of the greatest genius of the period.In the Middle Ages it was called the "Tale of Gamelyn,"[156] and Chaucerapparently intended to work it into his "Canterbury Tales," but he diedbefore he had completed his wish, and some copy of the rough old poemhaving, as it seems, been found among his papers, it was in after timeinserted in the manuscripts of his works as the "Cooke's Tale." As itstood in the fourteenth century this story recited mere deeds of valour,of strong, sinewy fighters; love and women played no part in it; and itis a great loss for us not to know whether old Chaucer would have madethis very necessary addition, and what sort of mediaeval Rosalind hewould have depicted.
As things went, we are indebted to our gentleman adventurer for theinvention of Rosalind. Lodge took up the tale and remodelled itentirely; he gave place in it to the fair she-page and to her friendAlinda and to Phoebe, the hard-hearted shepherdess, in such a way thatwhen Shakespeare in his turn bethought himself of this story, he hadnothing to add to fit it for his own stage, nothing except genius.
PREPARING FOR THE HUNT, 1575.]
But if Lodge cannot be considered a man of genius, he is certainly awriter of very remarkable gifts. His novel is a pastoral tale thattakes place somewhere in France, near Bordeaux, and reads as pleasantlyas any story in "Astree," no mean compliment. Probability, geography andchronology, are not Lodge's strong points; we are in fact again in thecountry of nowhere, in an imaginary kingdom of France over which theusurper Torismond reigns. The true king has been deposed and leads aforester's life, untroubled, unknown, in the thick woods of Arden.Rosalind, a daughter of the deposed king, has been kept as a sort ofhostage at the court of the tyrant in Bordeaux, presumably his capital.All of a sudden she is exiled in her turn, without more explanation than"I have heard of thy aspiring speaches and intended treasons."[157]Alinda, her friend, the daughter of the tyrant, refuses to leave her,and both fly the court, Rosalind being dressed as a page, a rapier ather side, her wit full of repartees, her mind full of shifts, and equal,in fact, as in Shakespeare, to any emergency. "Tush, quoth Rosalynd, artthou a woman and hast not a sodaine shift to prevent a misfortune? I,thou seest, am of a tall stature, and would very well become the personand apparell of a page; thou shalt bee my mistris, and I will play theman so properly, that, trust me, in what company so ever I come, I willnot bee discovered. I will buy mee a suite, and have my rapier veryhandsomely at my side, and if any knave offer wrong, your page will shewhim the point of his weapon. At this Alinda smiled, and upon this theyagreed, and presentlie gathered up all their jewels which they trussedup in a casket.... They travailed along the vineyards, and by manyby-waies, at last got to the forrest side," the forest of Arden, whichat that time happened to be near the vineyards of Gascony.
But this geographical situation is the least of the wonders offered bythe forest. In it live not only Gerismond, the lawful king, very happyand contented, free and without care, wanting nothing; but, in thevalleys, the most lovable shepherdesses and the most loving shepherds;they feed their flocks while piping their ditties; they inscribe theirsonnets on the bark of trees; they are very learned, though mereshepherds; they quote Latin and write French; they know how to ask thegod of love that the heart of their mistress may not be "de glace."
"Bien qu'elle ait de neige le sein."
They live in the shade of the most unaccountable woods, woods composedof pine-trees, fig-trees, and lemon-trees. "Then, comming into a fairevalley, compassed with mountaines whereon grewe many pleasant shrubbs,they might descrie where two flocks of sheepe did feede. Then lookingabout they might perceive where an old shepheard sat, and with him ayong swaine, under a covert most pleasantlie scituated. The ground wherethey sat was diapred with Floras riches, as if she ment to wrap Tellusin the glorie of her vestments: round about, in the forme of anamphitheater were most curiouslie planted pine-trees, interseamed withlimons and citrons, which with the thicknesse of their boughes soshadowed the place, that Phoebus could not prie into the secret of thatarbour.... Fast by ... was there a fount so christalline and cleere thatit seemed Diana and her Driades and Hemadriades had that spring as thesecret of all their bathings. In this glorious arbour sat these twoshepheards seeing their sheepe feede, playing on their pipes...." It islike a landscape by Poussin. Alinda and her page find the place verypleasant, and decide to settle there, especially when they have heardwhat a shepherd's life is like. "For a shepheards life, oh! mistresse,did you but live a while in their content, you would saye the court wererather a place of sorrowe than of solace ... Envie stirres not us, weecovet not to climbe, our desires mount not above our degrees, nor ourthoughts above our fortunes. Care cannot harbour in our cottages, nordoo our homely couches know broken slumbers." Fine assertions, to whichsome hundred and fifty years later Prince Rasselas was most solemnly togive the lie. But his time had not yet come, and both princesses resolveto settle there, to purchase flocks, and "live quiet, unknowen, andcontented."[158]
Many other pleasant things are to be found in the forest; in fact, thetwo ladies meet their lovers there; brave Rosader, the Gamelyn ofChaucerian times, the Orlando of Shakespeare, and wicked but repentantand reformed Saladin, who loves Alinda as Rosader loves Rosalind. Theymeet, too, the shepherdess Phoebe, "as faire as the wanton that broughtTroy to ruine," but in a different dress; "she in a peticoate ofscarlet, covered with a greene mantle, and to shrowde her from thesunne, a chaplet of roses;" in a different mood, too, towards shepherds,thinking nothing of her Paris, poor Montanus whom she disdains while heis dying for her.
Yet there were even more wonders in this forest of Arcadian shepherds,exiled princesses, and lemon-trees. There were "certaine rascalls thatlived by prowling in the forrest, who for feare of the provost marshallhad caves in the groves and thickets";[159] there were lions, too, verydangerous, hungry, man-eating lions. Such animals appear in Shakespearealso, as well as "palm trees," and Shakespeare moreover takes theliberty of doubling his lion with a serpent.
"A wretched ragged man o'ergrown with hair Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush: under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching."[160]
Let us not be too much troubled; here will be good opportunities forlovers to show the sort of men they are, to be wounded, but notdisfigured, and finally to be loved.
So many rare encounters of men and animals, and shepherds and lovers,give excellent occasions for Rosalind to display the special turn of hermind, and if, in Lodge, she has not all the ready wit that Shakespearehas given her, she is by no means slow of speech; she possesses besidesmuch more of that human kindness in which we sometimes find thebrilliant page of the play a little deficient. The conversations betweenher and Alinda are v
ery pleasant to read, and show how at last, not onlyon the stage, but even in novels, the tongues of the speakers had beenloosened.
"No doubt, quoth Aliena,[161] this poesie is the passion of someperplexed shepheard, that being enamoured of some fair and beautifullshepheardesse suffered some sharpe repulse, and therefore complained ofthe cruelty of his mistris.
"You may see, quoth Ganimede [Rosalind's page-name], what mad cattellyou women be, whose hearts sometimes are made of adamant that will touchwith no impression, and sometimes of waxe that is fit for everie forme;they delight to be courted and then they glorie to seeme coy, and whenthey are most desired, then they freeze with disdaine....
"And I pray you, quoth Aliena, if your roabes were off, what mettall areyou made of that you are so satyricall against women?... Beware,Ganimede, that Rosader heare you not....
"Thus, quoth Ganimede, I keepe decorum, I speake now as I am Alienaspage, not as I am Gerismonds daughter; for put me but into a peticoate,and I will stand in defiance to the uttermost, that women arecourteous, constant, virtuous, and what not."
Thus there is much merry prattle between these two, especially when thepresence of the lover of the one sharpens the teasing disposition of theother; when, for example, Rosader finding, not without good cause, someresemblance between the page and his Rosalind, pities the former, fornot equalling the perfection of his mistress.
"He hath answered you, Ganimede, quoth Aliena, it is inough for pages towaite on beautifull ladies and not to be beautifull themselves.
"Oh! mistres," answers the she-page, who cannot help feeling some spite,"holde your peace, for you are partiall; who knowes not, but that allwomen have desire to tie sovereigntie to their peticoats, and ascribebeautie to themselves, where if boyes might put on their garments,perhaps they would proove as comely; if not as comely, it may be morecurteous."
There are also some morning scenes full of pleasant mirth and cheerfullight, in which perhaps there is more of Phoebus than of the sun, andmore of Aurora than of the dawn; but this light, such as it is, is worththe looking at, so merrily it shines; and the talk of these early riserswell suits the half-classic landscape.
"The sunne was no sooner stept from the bed of Aurora, but Aliena waswakened by Ganimede, who restlesse all night, had tossed in herpassions; saying it was then time to goe to the field to unfold theirsheepe.
"Aliena ... replied thus: What? wanton, the sun is but new up, and asyet Iris riches lies folded in the bosom of Flora; Phoebus hath notdried the pearled deaw, and so long Coridon hath taught me it is not fitto lead the sheepe abroad lest the deaw being unwholesome they get therot. But now see I the old proverbe true ..." (and here comes someeuphuism).
"Come on," answers Ganimede, who does not seem in a mood to appreciateeuphuism just then, "this sermon of yours is but a subtiltie to liestill a bed, because either you think the morning colde, or els I beinggone, you would steale a nappe; this shifte carries no palme, andtherefore up and away. And for Love, let me alone; Ile whip him awaywith nettles and set Disdaine as a charme to withstand his forces; andtherefore, looke you to your selfe; be not too bolde, for Venus can makeyou bend; nor too coy, for Cupid hath a piercing dart that will make youcry _Peccavi_.
"And that is it, quoth Aliena, that hath raysed you so early thismorning?
"And with that she slipt on her peticoate, and start up; and assoone asshe had made her readie and taken her breakfast, away goe these two withtheir bagge and bottles to the field, in more pleasant content of mindthan ever they were in the court of Torismond."
In the same way as in Shakespeare, fair Phoebe, deceived by Rosalind'sdress, Phoebe, who thought herself beyond the reach of love, becomesenamoured of the page and feels at last all the pangs of an unrequitedpassion. Lodge's Rosalind, more human we think than her greatShakespearean sister, uses, to persuade Phoebe into loving Montanus, akindly, tender language, meant to heal rather than irritate the poorshepherdess's wounds. "What!" will exclaim the great sister, ...
"... What though you have no beauty ... Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work: Od's my little life! I think she means to tangle my eyes too:-- No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it; 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk-hair, Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream That can entame my spirits to your worship."[162]
Very spiritless, and tame, and old fashioned, will the other Rosalindappear by the side of this impetuous, relentless deity. A few perhapswill consider that her tame, kindly, old-fashioned, mythological pieceof advice to the shepherdess, makes her the more lovable: "What,shepheardesse, so fayre and so cruell?... Because thou art beautifull,be not so coye: as there is nothing more faire, so there is nothing morefading, as momentary as the shadowes which growes from a cloudie sunne.Such, my faire shepheardesse, as disdaine in youth, desire in age, andthen are they hated in the winter, that might have been loved in theprime. A wrinkled maid is like a parched rose, that is cast up incoffers to please the smell, not worn in the hand to content the eye.There is no folly in love to had-I-wist, and therefore, be rulde by me.Love while thou art young, least thou be disdained when thou art olde.Beautie nor time cannot bee recalde, and if thou love, like of Montanus;for if his desires are manie, so his deserts are great."[163] And it isindeed quite touching to see poor Montanus in the simplest lover fashionverify by his acts this description of himself; for while reduced to thelast degree of despair, seeing the unconquerable love Phoebe entertainsfor the page, he beseeches Rosalind to save her by returning her love;sorrow will kill him any way, but he will die contented if he thinksthat even through another's love Phoebe will live happy in her Arcadianvale.
I need not add that all these troubles end as happily as possible; thestorms pass away and a many-coloured rainbow encompasses Arden, Arcady,and the kingdom of France; every lover becomes loved, the three couplesget married, and while the music of the bridal fete is still in ourears, news is brought that "hard by, at the edge of this forest, thetwelve peers of France are up in arms" to recover Gerismond's rights.They accomplish this feat in a twinkling, as French peers should; whythey did not do it before does not appear: probably because the treblemarriage would not have looked so pretty in Notre Dame as under thelemon trees. There is much bloodshed of course, but it is blood we donot care for, and we are allowed to part from our shepherd friends withthe pleasing thought that they will see no end to their loves andhappiness.
Such is "Euphues golden legacy," one of the best examples of the sortof novel that was being written at this period. It has all thecharacteristics of this kind of writing such as it had come to beunderstood at that date; prose is mixed with verse, and several ofLodge's best songs are included in "Rosalynde"; it is full ofmeditations and monologues like those with which the neo-classic dramaof the French school has made us familiar.[164] In the more importantplaces, in monologues, speeches and letters euphuistic style usuallyprevails;[165] the chronology and geography of the tale, its logic andprobability, the grouping of events are of the loosest description; butit has moreover a freshness and sometimes a pathos which is more easilyfelt than expressed and of which the above quotations may have givensome idea.
In "Rosalynde" we see Lodge at his best. Perhaps, remembering histhreats, it is better not to try to see him at his worst; it willtherefore be sufficient to add that, having published also satires andepistles imitated from Horace, eclogues, some other short stories orromances, a translation of the philosophical works of Seneca, two orthree incoherent dramas (in one of which a whale comes on to the stage,and without any ceremony vomits forth the prophet Jonah),[166] Lodgechanged his profession once again, abandoned the sword for the lancet,became a physician, gained a fortune, and died quietly a rich citizen in1625.
He had thus lived beyond the period of Lyly's fame, of Greene'sreputation, of Shakespeare's splendour, and saw, before he died, thebeginnings of a new and very different
era in which both the drama andthe novel were to undergo, as we shall see, many and vasttransformations.
SCORPIO.]
FOOTNOTES:
[103] "Prose and Verse" by John Dickenson, ed. Grosart, Manchester,1878, 4to. At a later date Dickenson took Greene for his model when hewrote his "Greene in conceipt new raised from his grave, to write thetragique history of the faire Valeria of London," 1598. In thisDickenson imitates Greene's descriptions of the life of the courtezansof London (Troy-novant). See _infra_, pp. 187 _et seq._
[104] "The straunge and wonderfull Adventures of Don Simonides," London,1581, 4to; in 1584 appeared "The second tome of the travailes ... of DonSimonides."
[105] "Riche his Farewell to Militarie profession: Conteining veriepleasaunt discourses fit for a peaceable tyme. Gathered together for theonely delight of the Courteous Gentlewoemen bothe of England andIrelande, for whose onely pleasure thei were collected together, andunto whom thei are directed and dedicated," London, 1581, 4to. By thesame: "The Adventures of Brusanus, Prince of Hungaria," 1592; "Greenesnewes both from heaven and hell," 1593, &c.
[106] London, 1580, 4to. One copy in the Bodleian Library.
[107] "Philotimus, the warre betwixt nature and fortune," London, 1583,4to. A copy in the Bodleian Library.
[108] "Syrinx or a seavenfold historie ... newly perused and amended bythe original author," London, 1597, 4to. Warner died in 1609.
[109] "Episode of Julia and Proteus." This episode has been traced tothe story of the shepherdess Felismena, in Montemayor's "Diana." ButShakespeare may have taken some hints also from Warner. Opheltes(Proteus) married (not betrothed) to the virtuous Alcippe (Julia), goesto "Sardis," where he becomes acquainted (in the same manner as Greene'sFrancesco) with the courtesan Phoemonoe (Greene's Infida). Alcippe hearsof it, and wants at least to be able to see her husband; she enters theservice of the courtesan, and there suffers a moral martyrdom. Opheltesis ruined, and, in words which Greene nearly copied, "Phoemonoe notbrooking the cumbersome haunt of so beggerly a guest, with outragioustearms flatly forbad him her house." Alcippe makes herself known, andall ends well for the couple.
[110] Arber's reprint, pp. 139 and 141.
[111] "The Repentance of Robert Greene," 1592. "Works," ed. Grosart,vol. xii. p. 172.
[112] He belonged then to Clare Hall; the preface to the second part of"Mamillia" (entered 1583) is dated "from my studie in Clarehall." Laterin life he seems to have again felt the want of increasing hisknowledge, and he was, for a while, incorporated at Oxford, July, 1588;he, therefore, describes himself on the title-page of some of his works,not without touch of pride, as belonging to both universities. In commonwith his friend Lodge he had a taste for medical studies, and he appearsto have attempted to open to himself a career of this kind; he styleshimself on the title-page of "Planetomachia," 1585, as "Student inPhisicke," but as he never gave himself any higher appellation we maytake it for granted that he never went beyond the preliminaries.
[113] "The Repentance of Robert Greene," 1592, "Works" vol. xii. p. 173.
[114] "Greene's never too late," 1590, "Works," vol. viii. p. 101.
[115] "Greene's Groats-worth of wit," 1592, "Works," vol. xii. pp. 131_et seq._ "Roberto ... whose life in most parts agreeing with mine,found one selfe punishment as I have done" (_Ibid._ p. 137).
[116] "Strange Newes," 1592. A rough engraving, showing Greene at hiswriting table, is to be seen on the title-page of "Greene in conceipt,"a novel by T. Dickenson, 1598; his "peake" exists, but is not quite solong as Nash's description would have led us to expect.
[117] "Repentance," "Works," vol. xii. p. 164.
[118] See especially vol. x. of the "Works." Greene's example gave agreat impetus to these strange kinds of works, but he was not the firstto compose such; several came before him, especially T. Audeley, withhis "Fraternitye of vacabondes," 1560-1, and Thomas Harman, "A caveat orwarening for common cursetors vulgarely called vagabones," 1566 or 1567;both reprinted by Viles and Furnivall, Early English Text Society, 1869.
[119] See the note added by the editor to his "Repentance," "Works,"vol. xii. p. 184.
[120] Epilogue to the "Groats-worth of wit," directed "to thosegentlemen, his quondam acquaintance, that spend their wits in makingplaies," "Works," vol. xii. p. 144. The verse quoted by Greene occurs inthe third part of Henry VI., with the difference of "womans" for"players." About this, see Furnivall, Introduction to the "LeopoldShakspere," p. xvi. As to the identification of Greene's three friends,see Grosart's memorial introduction and Storojenko's "Life," in "Works,"vol. i.
[121] The exaggeration in the attack was so obvious that it raised someprotest, and Henry Chettle, who had edited Greene's "Groats-worth" afterhis death, felt obliged to print a rectification in his next book, aswas the custom then, when newspapers did not exist. This acknowledgment,that would to-day have been published in the _Athenaeum_ or the_Academy_, was inserted in his "Kind Heart's Dream," issued in the sameyear, 1592, and is to the effect that so far as Shakespeare (for Chettlecan allude here to no other) is concerned: "divers of worship havereported his uprightnes of dealing, which argues his honesty, and hisfacetious grace in writing that approoves his art."
[122] "The Silent Woman," act iv. sc. 2; and "Every man out of hishumour," act ii. sc. 1.
[123] "Repentance," "Works," vol. xii. p. 185.
[124] The "Life and Complete Works" of Greene have been published by Dr.Grosart, London, 1881, 15 vols. 4to. His principal non-dramatic writingsmay be classified as follows:
1. _Romantic novels, or "love pamphlets"_: "Mamillia," 1583; "The secondpart," 1583; "Myrrour of Modestie," 1584; "Card of fancie," 1584 (?);"Arbasto," 1584 (?); "Planetomachia," 1585; "Morando, the Tritameron oflove," 1586 (?); "Second part," 1587; "Debate betweene follie and love,"1587; "Penelopes web," 1587; "Euphues his censure to Philautus," 1587;"Perimedes," 1588; "Pandosto" (_alias_ "Dorastus and Fawnia"), 1588;"Alcida," 1588 (?); "Menaphon," 1589; "Ciceronis amor," 1589;"Orpharion," 1590 (?); "Philomela," 1592.
2. _Civic and patriotic pamphlets_: "Spanish Masquerado," 1589; "RoyalExchange," 1590; "Quip for an upstart courtier," 1592.
3. _Conny-catching pamphlets_: "A notable discovery of coosnage," 1591;"Second part of Conny-catching," 1591; "Third and last part," 1592;"Disputation betweene a Hee conny-catcher and a Shee conny-catcher,"1592 (attributed to Greene); "The Blacke bookes messenger" (_i.e._,"Life of Ned Browne"), 1592.
4. _Repentances_: "Greenes mourning garment," 1590 (?); "Greenes nevertoo late to mend," 1590; "Francescos fortune or the second part ofGreenes never too late," 1590 (these two last belong also to Group 1);"Farewell to follie," 1591 (entered 1587); "Greenes Groats-worth ofwit," 1592; "The Repentance of Robert Greene," 1592.
[125] The same virtuous tone and purpose appear invariably in thededications of his books to his patrons or friends. To all of them hewishes "increase of worship and vertue," and he commends them all "tothe tuition of the Almightie."
[126] Thomas Nash, "The Anatomie of Absurditie," London, 1590, 4to,written in 1588. There seems to be no doubt that Nash refers to Greenein the passage: "I but here the Homer of women hath forestalled anobjection," &c., sig. A ii.
[127] "Alcida," "Works," vol. ix. p. 17.
[128] "The Royal Exchange, contayning sundry aphorismes of phylosophie... fyrst written in Italian," 1590, "Works," vol. vii. p. 224
[129] "Greenes never too late," 1590, "Works," vol. viii. p. 25.
[130] Greene and Lyly are placed on a par by J. Eliote, a friend of theformer; in the sonnet, in Stratford-at-Bow French, he wrote incommendation of Greene's "Perimedes":
"Greene et Lylli tous deux raffineurs de l'Anglois."
See also the commendatory verses by H. Upchear, prefacing "Menaphon":
"Of all the flowers a _Lillie_ one I lov'd."
[131] 1592, "Works," vol. xi.
[132] Some faint resemblance has been pointed out by Dunlop between thisstory and the tale of Tito and Gisippo in the "Decameron," giornata x.novella 8.
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[133] "The City Nightcap, or crede quod habes et habes, a tragi-comedy,"London, 1661, 4to, licensed 1624, reprinted in Dodsley's "Old plays."
[134] "The debate betweene Follie and Love, translated out of French,"1587, "Works," vol. iv.
[135] "Ciceronis amor Tulies love ... a work full of pleasure, asfollowing Ciceroes vaine," 1589, "Works," vol. vii. This work isnoteworthy as being an almost if not quite unique example of an attemptin Elizabethan times to write a pseudo-historical novel in the style ofthe period referred to. Greene set to work expressly with such apurpose, and he states it in the title of the book and in its preface:"Gentlemen, I have written of Tullies love, a worke attempted to winyour favours, but to discover mine owne ignorance in that coveting tocounterfeit Tullies phrase, I have lost myself in unproper words." Inthis tale Cicero is represented standing at the tribune and haranguingthe senate: "Conscript fathers and grave senators of Rome," &c.
[136] "Penelopes web," 1587, "Works," vol. iv. p. 233.
[137] "There dwelled in Bononia a certaine Knight called SigniorBonfadio" ("Morando"). "There dwelled in the citie of Metelyne a certainDuke called Clerophantes" ("Greenes carde of fancie"). "There dwelled... in the citie of Memphis a poore man called Perymedes" ("Perimedes"),&c.
[138] London, 1672.
[139] "Histoire tragique de Pandosto roy de Boheme et de Bellaria safemme. Ensemble les amours de Dorastus et de Faunia; ou sont comprisesles adventures de Pandosto roy de Boheme, enrichies de feintesmoralites, allegories, et telles autres diversites convenables au sujet.Le tout traduit premierement en Anglois de la langue Boheme et denouveau mis en francois par L. Regnault," Paris, 1615, 12mo. A copy inthe Bodleian Library.
[140] "Histoire tragique de Pandolphe roy de Boheme et de Cellaria safemme, ensemble les amours de Doraste et de Faunia; enrichie de figuresen taille douce," Paris, 1722, 12mo.
[141] "Menaphon. Camillas alarum to slumbering Euphues, in hismelancholie cell at Silexedra," 1589. "Works," vol. vi.
[142] "The blacke bookes messenger, laying open the life and death ofNed Browne one of the most notable of cutpurses ... in England. Heereinhee telleth verie pleasantly in his owne person such strange prancks ...as the like was yet never heard of," 1592, "Works," vol. xi.
[143] "Groats-worth of wit," "Works," vol. xii. p. 140.
[144] "Greenes never too late," "Works," vol. viii. p. 67.
[145] "A quip for an upstart courtier, or a quaint dispute betweenvelvet breeches and cloth breeches," London, 1592; "Works," vol. xi. Inthe year of its publication it went through three editions and hadseveral afterwards. It was translated into Dutch: "Een seer vermakelickProces tusschen Fluweele-Broeck ende Laken-Broek," Leyden, 1601, 4to.Greene had as his model in writing this book F. T.'s "Debate betweenpride and lowliness," and he drew much from it, though not so much byfar as he has been accused of by Mr. Collier. "The Debate," &c.,Shakespeare Society, 1841, preface. (F. T. is not Francis Thynne.)
[146] Dedication of "Parismus," 1598.
[147] The thirteenth edition of "Parismus" appeared in 1649; there wereothers in 1657, 1663, 1664, 1665, 1668, 1671, 1677, 1684, 1690, 1696,1704, &c. (Sidney L. Lee.)
[148] London, 1598, 4to.
[149] Sig. C iii. _et seq._
[150] Act i. sc. 4. "Romeo" was first printed in 1597. A contemporaryrepresentation of such an _entree_ of maskers is to be seen in thecurious painting representing Sir H. Unton and the principal events inhis life; now kept in the National Portrait Gallery (painted about1596).
[151] "Parismenos, the second part of ... Parismus," 1599; "Ornatus andArtesia," of uncertain date, but surely anterior to 1598; "Montelion,Knight of the Oracle," of uncertain date; the earliest known copy bearsdate, 1633. Francis Meres, in his celebrated "Palladis Tamia," gives alist of books "hurtful to youth," and which are to be "censured"; amongthem, besides "Gargantua," "Owlglass," &c., he names "Ornatus andArtesia" and the "Black Knight," which might perhaps be "Parismus," forsuch was our hero's nickname.
[152] "Works in verse and prose," ed. Grosart, London, 1879, 2 vols.,4to. Breton was born in 1542-3; he studied at Oxford, and travelled onthe continent; he died in 1626.
[153] This forms part of the title of his "Wonders worth the hearing,"1602 (a dialogue with anecdotes).
[154] "A poste with a packet of mad Letters." The earliest dated editionis of the year 1603. Breton published, besides the writings abovementioned, some religious, pastoral, and other poetry. Part of it isdedicated to Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke, the famous sister of SirPhilip: "The Countesse of Pembrookes love," 1592; "The Countesse ofPembroke's passion" (no date). His pastoral poetry is among the best ofhis time. He left also moral essays and characters or typical portraits:"Characters upon essaies morall and divine, 1615," dedicated to Bacon,and concerning wisdom, learning, knowledge, patience, love, peace, warand other, even then, rather trite subjects. "The good and badde," 1616,contains characters of a knave, an usurer, a virgin, a parasite, agoodman, an "atheist or most badde man: hee makes robberie his purchase,lecherie his solace, mirth his exercise, and drunkennesse his glory,"&c. These books of "Characters" were extremely popular. _Cf._"Characters of virtues and vices" by Hall, 1608; Sir Thomas Overbury's"Characters," 1614; John Earle's "Microcosmographie," 1628, and a greatmany others. The last-named was translated into French by J. Dymocke,"Le vice ridicule," Louvain, 1671, 12mo. One of his most curious worksis his "Fantasticks," 1626.
[155] The principal novels or short stories of Lodge are: "Forbonius andPrisceria," 1584, reprinted by the Shakespeare Society, 1853;"Rosalynde, Euphues golden legacie found after his death in his cell atSilexedra ... fetcht from the Canaries," 1590, reprinted by Hazlitt,1875, and again in a popular form by Prof. H. Morley, 1887; "The famous,true, and historicall life of ... Robin the divell," 1591; "Euphuesshadow the battaile of the sences wherein youthful folly is set downe,"1592; it was edited by Greene in the absence of his friend, who was atsea "upon a long voyage." The story takes place in Italy at the timewhen "Octavius possessed the monarchy of the whole world." "TheMargarite of America," 1596, reprinted by Halliwell, 1859. In thisromance (p. 116), Lodge incidentally eulogizes his contemporary theFrench poet Philippe Desportes, and he mentions the popularity of hisworks in England. The "Complete Works" of Lodge have been published bythe Hunterian Club, ed. Gosse, Glasgow, 1875, _et seq._
[156] "The tale of Gamelyn, from Harleian MS., 7334," ed. Skeat, Oxford,1884, 16mo.
[157] "Works," vol. ii. p. 12 (each work has a separate pagination)
[158] "Works," vol. ii. pp. 14, 16, 19, 20.
[159] "Works," vol. ii. pp. 63, 46, 42.
[160] "As you like it," act iv. sc. 3.
[161] Her forest name for Alinda.
[162] "As you like it," act iii. sc. 5.
[163] "Works," vol. ii. pp. 29, 30, 31, 49.
[164] "Saladin's meditation with himself: 'Saladin, art thou disquietedin thy thoughts?'" &c. "Rosalind's passion: 'Unfortunate Rosalind, whosemisfortunes are more than thy years,'" &c. "Aliena's meditation: 'Ah!me; now I see, and sorrowing sigh to see that Diana's laurels areharbours for Venus doves,'" &c.
[165] For example, in "the schedule annexed to Euphues testament," bywhich the dying man leaves the book to Philautus for the benefit of hischildren. They will find in it what is fit for the God Love, "roses towhip him when he is wanton, reasons to whistant him when he is wilie."In the same manner Sir John of Bourdeaux informs his sons that "awoman's eye as it is precious to behold, so is it prejudicial to gazeupon"; Rosalind observes to herself that "the greatest seas have thesorest stormes, the highest birth is subject to the most bale and of alltrees the cedars soonest shake with the wind," &c. The same style isused in "Euphues shadow" in "Robin the divell," &c.: "Thou art like theverven (Nature) poyson one wayes, and pleasure an other, feeding me withgrapes in shewe lyke to Darius vine, but not in substance lyke those ofVermandois" ("Robin the divell").
[166] "A Looking glasse for London and England." This drama was writtenby Lodge and by his friend Greene. The
following stage direction occursin it: "Ionas the prophet cast out of the whales belly upon the stage."
PENSHURST, SIDNEY'S BIRTHPLACE.]