ENGLISH LITERATURE UNIT 1: OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE Short Summary of Beowulf:

ENGLISH LITERATURE
UNIT 1: OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE
Short Summary of Beowulf:
The poem begins with a brief genealogy of the Danes. Scyld Shefing was the first great king of the Danes,
known for his ability to conquer enemies. Scyld becomes the great−grandfather of Hrothgar, the king of the
Danes during the events of Beowulf. Hrothgar, like his ancestors before him, is a good king, and he wishes to
celebrate his reign by building a grand hall called Heorot. Once the hall is finished, Hrothgar holds a large
feast. The revelry attracts the attentions of the monster Grendel, who decides to attack during the night. In the
morning, Hrothgar and his thanes discover the bloodshed and mourn the lost warriors. This begins Grendel's
assault upon the Danes.
Twelve years pass. Eventually the news of Grendel's aggression on the Danes reaches the Geats, another tribe.
A Geat thane, Beowulf, decides to help the Danes; he sails to the land of the Danes with his best warriors.
Upon their arrival, Hrothgar's thane Wulfgar judges the Geats worthy enough to speak with Hrothgar.
Hrothgar remembers when he helped Beowulf's father Ecgtheow settle a feud; thus, he welcomes Beowulf's
help gladly.
Heorot is filled once again for a large feast in honor of Beowulf. During the feast, a thane named Unferth tries
to get into a boasting match with Beowulf by accusing him of losing a swimming contest. Beowulf tells the
story of his heroic victory in the contest, and the company celebrates his courage. During the height of the
celebration, the Danish queen Wealhtheow comes forth, bearing the mead−cup. She presents it first to
Hrothgar, then to the rest of the hall, and finally to Beowulf. As he receives the cup, Beowulf tells
Wealhtheow that he will kill Grendel or be killed in Heorot. This simple declaration moves Wealhtheow and
the Danes, and the revelry continues. Finally, everyone retires. Before he leaves, Hrothgar promises to give
Beowulf everything if he can defeat Grendel. Beowulf says that he will leave God to judge the outcome. He
and his thanes sleep in the hall as they wait for Grendel.
Eventually Grendel arrives at Heorot as usual, hungry for flesh. Beowulf watches carefully as Grendel eats
one of his men. When Grendel reaches for Beowulf, Beowulf grabs Grendel's arm and doesn't let go. Grendel
writhes about in pain as Beowulf grips him. He thrashes about, causing the hall to nearly collapse. Soon
Grendel tears away, leaving his arm in Beowulf's grasp. He slinks back to his lair in the moors and dies.
The Danes, meanwhile, consider Beowulf as the greatest hero in Danish history. Hrothgar's minstrel sings
songs of Beowulf and other great characters of the past, including Sigemund (who slew a dragon) and
Heremod (who ruled his kingdom unwisely and was punished). In Heorot, Grendel's arm is nailed to the wall
as a trophy. Hrothgar says that Beowulf will never lack for riches, and Beowulf graciously thanks him. The
horses and men of the Geats are all richly adorned, in keeping with Hrothgar's wishes.
Another party is held to celebrate Beowulf's victory. Hrothgar's minstrel tells another story at the feast, the
story of the Frisian slaughter. An ancient Danish king had a daughter named Hildeburh; he married her to a
king of the Frisians. While Hnaef, Hildeburh's brother, visited his sister, the Frisians attacked the Danes,
killing Hnaef and Hildeburh's son in the process. Hengest, the next leader of the Danes, desired vengeance,
and in the spring, the Danes attacked the Frisians, killing their leader and taking Hildeburh back to Denmark.
After this story is told, Wealhtheow presents a necklace to Hrothgar while pleading with her brother−in−law
Hrothulf to help her two young sons if they should ever need it. Next she presents many golden treasures to
Beowulf, such as necklaces, cups, and rings. Soon the feast ends, and everyone sleeps peacefully.
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In the night, Grendel's mother approaches the hall, wanting vengeance for her son. The warriors prepared for
battle, leaving enough time for Grendel's mother to grab one of Hrothgar's counselors and run away. When
Beowulf is summoned to the hall, he finds Hrothgar in mourning for his friend Aeschere. Hrothgar tells
Beowulf where the creatures like Grendel live in a shadowy, fearful land within the moors.
Beowulf persuades Hrothgar to ride with him to the moors. When they reach the edge of the moors, Beowulf
calls for his armor, takes a sword from Unferth, and dives into the lake. After a long time, Beowulf reaches
the bottom of the lake, where Grendel's mother is waiting to attack. Beowulf swings his sword, but discovers
that it cannot cut her, so he tosses it away. They then wrestle until Beowulf spies a large sword nearby. He
grabs it by the hilt and swings killing Grendel's mother by slicing off her head. Still in a rage, Beowulf finds
the dead Grendel in the lair and cuts off his head as a trophy.
As they wait, the Danes have given up all hope for Beowulf because he has been underwater for such a long
time. They are shocked when Beowulf returns with Grendel's head and the hilt of the sword (which melted
with the heat of Grendel's blood). They bear the hero and his booty back to Heorot, where another celebration
takes place. Beowulf recounts his battle; Hrothgar praises him and gives him advice on being a king. A grand
feast follows, and Beowulf is given more priceless treasures. The next morning, the Geats look forward to
leaving Denmark. Before they leave, Beowulf promises aid for Hrothgar from the Danes. Hrothgar praises
Beowulf and promises that their lands will have an alliance forever. As the Geats leave, Hrothgar finds
himself wishing Beowulf would never leave.
The Geats return with much rejoicing to their homeland, where their king Hygelac and his queen Hygd greet
them. In an aside, the narrator compares Hygd to the queen of the ancient Offa, who is not tamed until Offa
comes to subjugate her. Beowulf tells his lord the events of his trip to Denmark. In the process, he tells
another story that had previously been unmentioned. Hrothgar betrothed his daughter Freawaru to a prince of
the Heathobards in order to settle an old feud. Beowulf speculates that someone will goad this Heathobard
prince to take vengeance upon the Danes for all their past wrongs. Hygelac praises Beowulf for his bravery
and gives him half the kingdom. They rule the kingdom together in peace and prosperity. Hygelac is killed in
a battle soon after, so Beowulf becomes king of the Geats and rules the kingdom well.
In the fiftieth year of Beowulf's reign, a monster arises to terrorize the Geats. A treasure trove was left by an
ancient civilization, which guarded it jealously until only one member of the race was left. After the last
person's death, a fire−breathing dragon found the treasure and guarded it for three hundred years. One day, a
slave stumbled upon the treasure and stole a cup as an offering to his lord. The dragon awakened to find
something missing from his treasure, and began his rampage upon the Geats.
One day, Beowulf learns that this dragon has destroyed his own great hall. This attack sends him into deep
thought. Soon he orders a shield to use for battle, but not without a heavy heart at what may happen to him.
He recalls Hygelac's death in battle and his own narrow escape from this battle. He recalls a number of battles
he has seen as he travels to the dragon's lair with eleven of his thanes. The servant who stole the cup leads
them to the lair.
As they wait to attack the dragon, Beowulf recounts the Geat royal family's plight, in which Hygelac's oldest
brothers killed each other and left their father to die of a broken heart. Beowulf says he served Hygelac well,
and a sword (named Naegling) that he won while serving Hygelac will help him save the kingdom once again.
Beowulf leads the charge to the dragon's cave. The shield protects him from the dragon's flames, but his men
flee in fear, leaving only one man behind. This man is Wiglaf, Beowulf's kinsman through Ecgtheow. Wiglaf
becomes angry, but swears that he will stay by Beowulf's side.
Just then the dragon rushes up to them. Beowulf and the dragon swing at each other three times, finally
landing mortal blows upon each other the last time. The dragon is beheaded, but Beowulf is bitten and has a
mortal poison from the dragon flowing through his body as a result. Wiglaf bathes his lord's body as Beowulf
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speaks on the treasure. He says that Wiglaf should inherit it as his kinsman; then he dies.
After his death, the cowards return, to be severely chastised by Wiglaf. He sends a messenger to tell the
people of their king's death. The messenger envisions the joy of the Geats' enemies upon hearing of the death
of Beowulf. He also says that no man shall ever have the treasure for which Beowulf fought. Wiglaf and
Beowulf's thanes toss the dragon's body into the sea. They place the treasure inside a mound with Beowulf's
body and mourn for "the ablest of all world−kings."
Character List:
Scyld Shefing: He is known as one of the first great kings of the Danes. Upon his death he is given a
remarkable burial at sea. Eventually he becomes the great−grandfather of Hrothgar, king during Grendel's
attacks upon the Danes.
Beow (Beowulf): He is the son of Scyld Shefing, and a strong king in his own right. He is often confused with
the hero of the poem.
Hrothgar: He is the King of the Danes at the time of Grendel's assaults. He builds the hall Heorot as a tribute
to his people and his reign.
Heorot: This is the hall that Hrothgar builds in celebration of his reign. It is the site both of many happy
festivals and many sorrowful funerals.
Grendel: This man−monster is a descendant of Cain. He attacks Heorot after hearing the sounds of revelry
there. Beowulf eventually kills him, with his severed arm hung as a trophy in Heorot. His mother attempts to
avenge his death.
Beowulf: He is a thane of the Geat king Hygelac and eventually becomes King of the Geats. The poem relates
his heroic exploits over 50 years, including the fights with Grendel and his mother and with the
treasure−guarding dragon.
Wulfgar: He is one of Hrothgar's faithful thanes. As the watchman for the Danes, he is the first to greet
Beowulf and his thanes to the land of the Danes. He also deems the Geat visitors as people worthy enough to
meet with Hrothgar.
Ecgtheow: He is Beowulf's father. He is a Waegmunding by birth and a Geat by marriage. When he was
younger, Hrothgar helped him settle a feud with the Wylfingas.
Unferth: A thane of Hrothgar's, he taunts Beowulf in the hall about his swimming contest with Breca.
However, Beowulf shames him in the boasting match. His name means "discord."
Wealhtheow: She is Hrothgar's queen and the mother of his two sons. Her name comes from the
Anglo−Saxon words for "treasure bearer." She actually has the duty of presenting necklaces and mead−cups at
court.
Sigemund: He is an ancient Germanic hero whose story is recounted after the fight with Grendel. He was
known as the famous dragon slayer.
Heremod: He was an ancient Danish king who went from being a good king to a ruthlessly evil king. Hrothgar
uses him as an example of bad kingship for Beowulf.
Hildeburh: Her story in recounted during the second feast for Beowulf at Heorot. She is an ancient Danish
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princess who was married into the Frisian royalty. Her brother and her son were both killed in a war with the
Frisians at Finnesburh.
Hrothulf: He is Hrothgar's younger brother. Wealhtheow calls upon him to protect her young sons if it should
ever be necessary to do so.
Grendel's Mother: She is, of course, the mother of the man−monster Grendel. She comes to Heorot seeking
vengeance for the death of her son. Beowulf kills her
Aeschere: Apparently he is one of Hrothgar's important officials and faithful thanes. Grendel's
mother kills him, and Hrothgar is inconsolable.
Hrunting: Unferth gives this sword to Beowulf to use in killing Grendel's mother. It is unable to cut her,
however, so Beowulf discards it. Later he returns it to Unferth with his thanks
Hygelac: This King of the Geats is also Beowulf's uncle. Upon hearing Beowulf's courageous exploits, he
gives Beowulf nearly half his kingdom.
Freawaru: She is the daughter of Hrothgar who is unmentioned until Beowulf tells Hygelac about her.
Beowulf believes that her marriage to a Heathobard prince will do more harm than good for the Danes.
The Dragon: This is the third and last monster that Beowulf must defeat. After a Geat slave steals from his
treasure, he goes on a rampage. Beowulf defeats him, but not before striking a mortal blow to him.
Naegling: Beowulf won this sword in a fight between the Geats and the Frisians. He uses it in the battle with
the dragon.
Wiglaf: This is Beowulf's kinsman through Ecgtheow's family, the Waegmundings. He is the only thane of
Beowulf's that stays with him during the battle with the dragon.
Themes
The Importance of Establishing Identity − As Beowulf is essentially a record of heroic deeds, the concept
of identityof which the two principal components are ancestral heritage and individual reputationis clearly
central to the poem. The opening passages introduce the reader to a world in which every male figure is
known as his father's son. Characters in the poem are unable to talk about their identity or even introduce
themselves without referring to family lineage. This concern with family history is so prominent because of
the poem's emphasis on kinship bonds. Characters take pride in ancestors who have acted valiantly, and they
attempt to live up to the same standards as those ancestors.
While heritage may provide models for behaviour and help to establish identityas with the line of Danish
kings discussed early ona good reputation is the key to solidifying and augmenting one's identity. For
example, Shield Sheafson, the legendary originator of the Danish royal line, was orphaned; because he was in
a sense fatherless, valiant deeds were the only means by which he could construct an identity for himself.
While Beowulf's pagan warrior culture seems not to have a concept of the afterlife, it sees fame as a way of
ensuring that an individual's memory will continue on after deathan understandable preoccupation in a world
where death seems always to be knocking at the door.
Tensions between the Heroic Code and other Value Systems − Much of Beowulf is devoted to articulating
and illustrating the Germanic heroic code, which values strength, courage, and loyalty in warriors; hospitality,
generosity, and political skill in kings; ceremoniousness in women; and good reputation in all people.
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Traditional and much respected, this code is vital to warrior societies as a means of understanding their
relationships to the world and the menaces lurking beyond their boundaries. All of the characters' moral
judgments stem from the code's mandates. Thus individual actions can be seen only as either conforming to or
violating the code.
The poem highlights the code's points of tension by recounting situations that expose its internal
contradictions in values. The poem contains several stories that concern divided loyalties, situations for which
the code offers no practical guidance about how to act. For example, the poet relates that the Danish
Hildeburh marries the Frisian king. When, in the war between the Danes and the Frisians, both her Danish
brother and her Frisian son are killed, Hildeburh is left doubly grieved. The code is also often in tension with
the values of medieval Christianity. While the code maintains that honor is gained during life through deeds,
Christianity asserts that glory lies in the afterlife. Similarly, while the warrior culture dictates that it is always
better to retaliate than to mourn, Christian doctrine advocates a peaceful, forgiving attitude toward one's
enemies. Throughout the poem, the poet strains to accommodate these two sets of values. Though he is
Christian, he cannot (and does not seem to want to) deny the fundamental pagan values of the story.
The Difference between a Good Warrior and a Good King − Over the course of the poem, Beowulf
matures from a valiant combatant into a wise leader. His transition demonstrates that a differing set of values
accompanies each of his two roles. The difference between these two sets of values manifests itself early on in
the outlooks of Beowulf and King Hrothgar. Whereas the youthful Beowulf, having nothing to lose, desires
personal glory, the aged Hrothgar, having much to lose, seeks protection for his people. Though these two
outlooks are somewhat oppositional, each character acts as society dictates he should given his particular role
in society.
While the values of the warrior become clear to us through Beowulf's example throughout the poem, only in
the poem's more didactic moments are the responsibilities of a king in relation to his people discussed. The
heroic code requires that a king reward the loyal service of his warriors with gifts and praise. It also holds that
he must provide them with protection and the sanctuary of a lavish mead−hall. Hrothgar's speeches, in
particular, emphasize the value of creating stability in a precarious and chaotic world. He also speaks at length
about the king's role in diplomacy, both with his own warriors and with other tribes.
Beowulf's own tenure as king elaborates on many of the same points. His transition from warrior to king, and,
in particular, his final battle with the dragon, rehash the dichotomy between the duties of a heroic warrior and
those of a heroic king. In the eyes of several of the Geats, Beowulf's bold encounter with the dragon is
morally ambiguous because it dooms them to a kingless state in which they remain vulnerable to attack by
their enemies. Yet Beowulf also demonstrates the sort of restraint proper to kings when, earlier in his life, he
refrains from usurping Hygelac's throne, choosing instead to uphold the line of succession by supporting the
appointment of Hygelac's son. But since all of these pagan kings were great warriors in their youth, the
tension between these two important roles seems inevitable and ultimately irreconcilable.
Motifs
Monsters − In Christian medieval culture, "monster" was the word that referred to birth defects, which were
always understood as an ominous sign from Goda sign of transgression or of bad things to come. In keeping
with this idea, the monsters that Beowulf must fight in this Old English poem shape the poem's plot and seem
to represent an inhuman or alien presence in society that must be exorcised for the society's safety. They are
all outsiders, existing beyond the boundaries of human realms. Grendel's and his mother's encroachment upon
human societythey wreak havoc in Heorotforces Beowulf to kill the two beasts for order to be restored.
To many readers, the three monsters that Beowulf slays all seem to have a symbolic or allegorical meaning.
For instance, since Grendel is descended from the biblical figure Cain, who slew his own brother, Grendel
often has been understood to represent the evil in Scandinavian society of marauding and killing others. A
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traditional figure of medieval folklore and a common Christian symbol of sin, the dragon may represent an
external malice that must be conquered to prove a hero's goodness. Because Beowulf's encounter with the
dragon ends in mutual destruction, the dragon may also be interpreted as a symbolic representation of the
inevitable encounter with death itself.
The Oral Tradition − Intimately connected to the theme of the importance of establishing one's identity is
the oral tradition, which preserves the lessons and lineages of the past, and helps to spread reputations. Indeed,
in a culture that has little interaction with writing, only the spoken word can allow individuals to learn about
others and make their own stories known. This emphasis on oral communication explains the prevalence of
bards' tales (such as the Heorot scop's relating of the Finnsburg episode) and warriors' boastings (such as
Beowulf's telling of the Breca story). From a broader perspective, Beowulf itself contributes to the tradition of
oral celebration of cultural heroes. Like Homer's Iliad and Odyssey,Beowulf was passed on orally over many
generations before being written down.
The Mead−Hall − The poem contains two examples of mead−halls: Hrothgar's great hall of Heorot, in
Denmark, and Hygelac's hall in Geatland. Both function as important cultural institutions that provide light
and warmth, food and drink, and singing and revelry. Historically, the mead−hall represented a safe haven for
warriors returning from battle, a small zone of refuge within a dangerous and precarious external world that
continuously offered the threat of attack by neighboring peoples. The mead−hall was also a place of
community, where traditions were preserved, loyalty was rewarded, and, perhaps most important, stories were
told and reputations were spread.
Symbols
Because ritual behaviors and tokens of loyalty are so central to pagan Germanic culture, most of the objects
mentioned in Beowulf have symbolic status not just for the readers but also for the characters in the poem.
The Golden Torque − The collar or necklace that Wealhtheow gives Beowulf is a symbol of the bond of
loyalty between her people and Beowulfand, by extension, the Geats. Its status as a symbolic object is
renewed when we learn that Hygelac died in battle wearing it, furthering the ideas of kinship and continuity.
The Banquet − The great banquet at Heorot after the defeat of Grendel represents the restoration of order and
harmony to the Danish people. The preparation involves the rebuilding of the damaged mead−hall, which, in
conjunction with the banquet itself, symbolizes the rebirth of the community. The speeches and giving of
gifts, essential components of this society's interactions, contribute as well to the sense of wholeness renewed.
About the Manuscript and the Poet of Beowulf:
Beowulf is the first surviving epic written in the English language. The single existing copy of the manuscript
dates from the late tenth century, although some scholars believe it dates from the first part of the eleventh
century. It is found in a large volume that features stories involving mythical creatures and people. Two
different scribes copied the poem, most likely using an existing copy. Between 1066 and the Reformation, the
whole volume remained in a monastic library until Sir Robert Cotton gained possession of it for his own
extensive library. A fire consumed much of his library, and the volume containing Beowulf became badly
charred. Today the manuscript still exists, though it is falling apart rapidly due to the charring in the fire.
We do not have any definite knowledge about the poet−−indeed, we do not even know the date of the poem's
composition. Through the study of Old English verse, most scholars believe that the poem was composed
much earlier than the Cotton manuscript, between 650 and 800. Some words in Beowulf do not adhere to the
scansion of Old English verse; however, using the older forms of the words, dating from the period given,
causes the lines to scan correctly. Yet accurately dating the poem is a difficult enterprise since the poem has
such a derivative quality. It is evident that the Beowulf poet wished to place his work within an even more
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ancient tradition. Beowulf directly uses many ancient stories that have been preserved in later texts, such as
the legend of Sigemund and the account of the war at Finnesburh. In addition, the poem is written with the
traditional epic diction, with whole phrases taken from the other bards who sang the legends incorporated.
Despite his borrowing from other sources, perhaps in large quantities, the Beowulf poet nonetheless manages
to add his own specialized view of his characters' world. First and foremost, Beowulf's author is a Christian,
and he makes the Christian world extremely visible. He alludes to Cain and the Flood; he shows the Christian
God's influence upon the pagan world of the Danes. Yet he is obviously aware of his culture's pagan past and
attempts to describe it in great detail through rituals, such as the elaborate Germanic sea−burials and the grand
feasts in the mead−halls, and the ever−present belief in fate. Thus Beowulf's poet tries to recreate the past of
his people for his people, almost with a nostalgic feeling for the bygone pagan days
UNIT 2: MIDDLE ENGLISH LITERATURE I
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Context
The alliterative poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight survives in a late−fourteenth−century manuscript
with three other poems by the same authorPearl,Purity, and Patience. We know very little about the author of
these poems, but most scholars believe him to have been a university−trained clerk or the official of a
provincial estate (we refer to him as the "Pearl−poet" or the "Gawain−poet"). Though we cannot say with
certainty that one person wrote all four poems, some shared characteristics point toward common authorship
and also suggest that the Gawain−poet may have written another poem, called St. Erkenwald, that exists in a
separate manuscript. All the poems except Sir Gawain and the Green Knight deal with overtly Christian
subject matter, and it remains unclear why Sir Gawain, a secular Arthurian romance, was included in an
otherwise religious manuscript.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is written in a dialect of Middle English that links it with Britain's
Northwest Midlands, probably Chester or Lancashire. Though not the economic, political, and artistic center
that was William Langland's and Geoffrey Chaucer's London, there is no reason to assume that the English
provinces were less culturally active in the late fourteenth century. In fact, the works of the Gawain−poet
belong to a type of literature traditionally known as the Alliterative Revival, usually associated with northern
England. Contrary to what the name of the movement suggests, the alliterative meter of Old English never
went away and therefore did not need reviving. Nevertheless, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight exists as a
testament that the style continued well into the fourteenth century, if not in London, then in the provinces.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight's adapted Old English meter tends to connect the two halves of each poetic
line through alliteration, or repetition of consonants. The poem also uses rhyme to structure its stanzas, and
each group of long alliterative lines concludes with a word or phrase containing two syllables and a
quatrainknown together as the "bob and wheel." The phrase "bob and wheel" derives from a technique used
when spinning clothindeed, the bobs and wheels in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight help to spin the plot and
narrative together in intricate ways. They provide commentaries on what has just happened, create or fulfill
moments of suspense, and serve as transitions to the next scene or idea.
Told in four "fitts," or parts, the poem weaves together at least three separate narrative strings commonly
found in medieval folklore and romance. The first plot, the beheading game, appears in ancient folklore and
may derive from pagan myths related to the agricultural cycles of planting and harvesting crops. The second
and third plots concern the exchange of winnings and the hero's temptation; both of these plots derive from
medieval romances and dramatize tests of the hero's honesty, loyalty, and chastity. As the story unfolds, we
discover that the three apparently separate plotlines intersect in surprising ways.
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A larger story that frames the narrative is that of Morgan le Fay's traditional hatred for Arthur and his court,
called Camelot. Morgan, Arthur's half sister and a powerful sorceress, usually appears in legend as an enemy
of the Round Table. Indeed, medieval readers knew that the perfect world of Camelot depicted in Sir Gawain
and the Green Knight is destined to fall, with Morgan's aid.
The final frame of the poem is a historical one. The poem begins and ends with references to the myth of
Britain's lineage from the ancient city of Troy, by way of Britain's Trojan founder, Brutus. These references
root the Arthurian romance in an older, more elevated tradition of "courtly" literaturenamely, the epicand link
fourteenth−century England to Rome, which was also founded by a Trojan (Aeneas). Thus, Sir Gawain and
the Green Knight presents us with a version of translatio imperiia Latin phrase referring to the transfer of
culture from one civilization (classical antiquity, in this case) to another (medieval England). The
Gawain−poet at times adopts an ironic tone, but he also displays a deep investment in elevating his country's
legends, history, and literary formsespecially Arthurian romanceby relating them directly to classical
antiquity.
Plot Overview Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
During a New Year's Eve feast at King Arthur's court, a strange figure, referred to only as the Green Knight,
enters. He challenges the group's leader or any other brave representative, to a game. The Green Knight will
allow whomever accepts the challenge to strike him with his own axe, on the condition that the challenger
find him in exactly one year and one day so that he can return the blow.
Stunned, Arthur hesitates to respond, but when the Green Knight mocks Arthur's silence, the king steps
forward to take the challenge. As soon as Arthur grips the Green Knight's axe, Sir Gawain leaps up and asks
to take the challenge himself. He takes hold of the axe and, in one deadly blow, cuts off the knight's head. To
the amazement of the court, the now−headless Green Knight picks up his severed head. Before riding away,
the head reiterates the terms of the pact, reminding the young Gawain to seek him in a year and a day at the
Green Chapel. After the Green Knight leaves, the company goes back to its festival, but Gawain is uneasy.
Time passes, and autumn arrives. On the Day of All Saints, Gawain prepares to leave Camelot and find the
Green Knight. He puts on his best armor, mounts his horse, Gringolet, and starts off toward North Wales,
traveling through the wilderness of northwest Britain. Gawain encounters all sorts of beasts, suffers from
hunger and cold, and grows more desperate as the days pass. On Christmas Day, he prays to find a place to
hear Mass, then looks up to see a castle shimmering in the distance. The lord of the castle welcomes Gawain
warmly, introducing him to his lady and to the old woman who sits beside her. For sport, the host (whose
name is later revealed to be Bertilak) strikes a deal with Gawain: the host will go out hunting with his men
every day, and when he returns in the evening, he will exchange his winnings for anything Gawain has
managed to acquire by staying behind at the castle. Gawain happily agrees to the pact, and goes to bed.
The first day, the lord hunts a herd of does, while Gawain sleeps late in his bedchambers. On the morning of
the first day, the lord's wife sneaks into Gawain's chambers and attempts to seduce him. Gawain puts her off,
but before she leaves she claims one kiss from him. That evening, when the host gives Gawain the venison he
has captured, Gawain kisses him, since he has won one kiss from the lady. The second day, the lord hunts a
wild boar. The lady again enters Gawain's chambers, and this time she kisses Gawain twice. That evening
Gawain gives the host the two kisses in exchange for the boar's head.
The third day, the lord hunts a fox, and the lady kisses Gawain three times. She also asks him for a love token,
such as a ring or a glove. Gawain refuses to give her anything and refuses to take anything from her, until the
lady mentions her girdle. The green silk girdle she wears around her waist is no ordinary piece of cloth, the
lady claims, but possesses the magical ability to protect the person who wears it from death. Intrigued,
Gawain accepts the cloth, but when it comes time to exchange his winnings with the host, Gawain gives the
three kisses but does not mention the lady's green girdle. The host gives Gawain the fox skin he won that day,
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and they all go to bed happy, but weighed down with the fact that Gawain must leave for the Green Chapel the
following morning to find the Green Knight.
New Year's Day arrives, and Gawain dons his armor, including the girdle, then sets off with Gringolet to seek
the Green Knight. A guide accompanies him out of the estate grounds. When they reach the border of the
forest, the guide promises not to tell anyone if Gawain decides to give up the quest. Gawain refuses,
determined to meet his fate head−on. Eventually, he comes to a kind of crevice in the rock, visible through the
tall grasses. He hears the whirring of a grindstone, confirming his suspicion that this strange cavern is in fact
the Green Chapel. Gawain calls out, and the Green Knight emerges to greet him. Intent on fulfilling the terms
of the contract, Gawain presents his neck to the Green Knight, who proceeds to feign two blows. On the third
feint, the Green Knight nicks Gawain's neck, barely drawing blood. Angered, Gawain shouts that their
contract has been met, but the Green Knight merely laughs.
The Green Knight reveals his name, Bertilak, and explains that he is the host of the castle where Gawain
recently stayed. Because Gawain did not honestly exchange all of his winnings on the third day, Bertilak drew
blood on his third blow. Nevertheless, Gawain has proven himself a worthy knight, without equal in all the
land. When Gawain questions Bertilak further, Bertilak explains that the old woman at the castle is really
Morgan le Fay, Gawain's aunt and King Arthur's half sister. She sent the Green Knight on his original errand
and used her magic to change Bertilak's appearance. Relieved to be alive but extremely guilty about his sinful
failure to tell the whole truth, Gawain wears the girdle on his arm as a reminder of his own failure. He returns
to Arthur's court, where all the knights join Gawain, wearing girdles on their arms to show their support.
Character List
Sir Gawain − The story's protagonist, Arthur's nephew and one of his most loyal knights. Although he
modestly disclaims it, Gawain has the reputation of being a great knight and courtly lover. He prides himself
on his observance of the five points of chivalry in every aspect of his life. Gawain is a pinnacle of humility,
piety, integrity, loyalty, and honesty. Gawain's only flaw proves to be that he loves his own life so much that
he will lie in order to protect himself. Gawain leaves the Green Chapel penitent and changed.
Sir Gawain − Though Gawain and Guinevere share the high table at the New Year's celebration in Arthur's
court, he describes himself as the least of Arthur's knights in terms of both physical prowess and mental
ability. His modest claim to inferiority and his high status at courthe is Arthur's nephew and one of the most
famous knightstestify to both his humility and his ambition. Gawain seeks to improve his inner self
throughout the poem. After Gawain arrives at Bertilak's castle in Part 2, it is evident that his reputation is quite
widespread. To Gawain, his public reputation is as important as his own opinion of himself, and he therefore
insists on wearing the green girdle as a sign of shame at the story's end. He believes that sins should be as
visible as virtues.
Even though the Green Knight essentially tricks Gawain by not telling him about his supernatural abilities
before asking Gawain to agree to his terms, Gawain refuses to back out of their deal. He stands by his
commitments absolutely, even when it means jeopardizing his own life. Nonetheless, the poem frequently
reiterates Gawain's deep fears and anxieties. But Gawain's desire to maintain his personal integrity at all costs
requires him to conquer his fears in his quest for the Green Knight.
Gawain is a paragon of virtue in the first two parts. But in Part 3 he conceals from his host the magical green
girdle that the host's wife gives him, revealing that, despite his bravery, Gawain values his own life more than
his honesty. Ultimately, however, Gawain confesses his sin to the knight and begs to be pardoned; thereafter,
he voluntarily wears the girdle as a symbol of his sin. Because Gawain repents his sin in such an honorable
manner, his one indiscretion in the poem actually ends up being an example of his basic goodness.
Gawain is not a static character. In his encounter with the Green Knight, he recognizes the problematic nature
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of courtly ideals. When he returns to Arthur's court at Camelot, the other lords and ladies still look to him like
lighthearted children, but Gawain is weighed down by a new somberness. Though he survives his quest,
Gawain emerges at the end of the poem as a humbled man who realizes his own faults and has to live with the
fact that he will never live up to his own high standards.
Green Knight − The Green Knight's huge stature, wild appearance, and green complexion set him apart from
the beardless knights and beautiful ladies of Arthur's Camelot, where we first meet him. He is an ambiguous
figure: he says that he comes in friendship, not wanting to fight, but the friendly game he proposes is quite
deadly. He attaches great importance to verbal contracts, expecting Sir Gawain to go to great lengths to hold
up his end of their bargain. The Green Knight shows himself to be a supernatural being when he picks up his
own severed head and rides out of Arthur's court, still speaking. At the same time, he seems to symbolize the
natural world, in that he is killed and reborn as part of a cycle. At the poem's end, we discover that the Green
Knight is also Bertilak, Gawain's host, and one of Morgan le Fay's minions.
Principio del formulario
The Green Knight (also known as Bertilak de Hautdesert and the Host) − The Green Knight is a
mysterious, supernatural creature. He rides into Arthur's court on New Year's Eve almost as if summoned by
the king's request to hear a marvelous story. His supernatural characteristics, such as his ability to survive
decapitation and his green complexion, immediately mark him as a foreboding figure. The Green Knight
contrasts with Arthur's court in many ways. The knight symbolizes the wildness, fertility, and death that
characterize a primeval world, whereas the court symbolizes an enclave of civilization within the wilderness.
But, like the court, the Green Knight strongly advocates the values of the law and justice. And though his long
hair suggests an untamed, natural state, his hair is cut into the shape of a courtly garment, suggesting that part
of his function is to establish a relationship between wilderness and civilization, past and present.
At Gawain's scheduled beheading, the Green Knight reveals that he is also the host with whom Gawain stayed
after his journeys through the wilderness, and that he is known as Bertilak de Hautdesert. As the host, we
know Bertilak to be a courteous, jovial man who enjoys hunting for sport and playing games. A
well−respected and middle−aged lord, the host contrasts with the beardless Arthur. In fact, his beard is
"beaver−hued," a feature which associates the host with the Green Knight. Other clues exist in the text to
connect the host with the Green Knight. For instance, both the Green Knight and the host value the power of
verbal contracts. Each makes a covenant with Gawain, and the two agreements overlap at the end of the poem.
Final del formulario
Bertilak of Hautdesert − The sturdy, good−natured lord of the castle where Gawain spends Christmas. We
only learn Bertilak's name at the end of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. The poem associates Bertilak with
the natural worldhis beard resembles a beaver, his face a firebut also with the courtly behavior of an
aristocratic host. Boisterous, powerful, brave, and generous, Lord Bertilak provides an interesting foil to King
Arthur. At the end of the poem we learn that Bertilak and the Green Knight are the same person, magically
enchanted by Morgan le Fay for her own designs.
Bertilak's wife − Bertilak's wife attempts to seduce Gawain on a daily basis during his stay at the castle.
Though the poem presents her to the reader as no more than a beautiful young woman, Bertilak's wife is an
amazingly clever debater and an astute reader of Gawain's responses as she argues her way through three
attempted seductions. Flirtatious and intelligent, Bertilak's wife ultimately turns out to be another pawn in
Morgan le Fay's plot.
Morgan le Faye − The Arthurian tradition typically portrays Morgan as a powerful sorceress, trained by
Merlin, as well as the half sister of King Arthur. Not until the last 100 lines do we discover that the old
woman at the castle is Morgan le Faye and that she has controlled the poem's entire action from beginning to
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end. As she often does in Arthurian literature, Morgan appears as an enemy of Camelot, one who aims to
cause as much trouble for her half brother and his followers as she can.
King Arthur − In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Arthur is young and beardless, and his court is in its
golden age. Arthur's refusal to eat until he hears a fantastic tale shows the petulance of youth, as does Arthur's
initial stunned response to the Green Knight's challenge. However, like a good king, Arthur soon steps
forward to take on the challenge. At the story's end, Arthur supports Gawain and shows that Gawain's trial has
taught him about his own fallibility, joining his nephew in wearing a green girdle on his arm.
Queen Guinevere − At first glance, the beautiful young Guinevere of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
seems to have little in common with the one of later Arthurian legend. She sits next to Gawain at the New
Year's feast and remains a silent, objectified presence in the midst of the knights of the Round Table.
Gringolet − Gawain 's horse.
Themes
The Nature of Chivalry − The world of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is governed by well−defined
codes of behavior. The code of chivalry, in particular, shapes the values and actions of Sir Gawain and other
characters in the poem. The ideals of chivalry derive from the Christian concept of morality, and the
proponents of chivalry seek to promote spiritual ideals in a spiritually fallen world.
The ideals of Christian morality and knightly chivalry are brought together in Gawain's highly symbolic
shield. The pentangle represents the five virtues of knights: friendship, generosity, chastity, courtesy, and
piety. Certainly, Gawain's adherence to these virtues is tested throughout the poem, but the poem also poses a
question larger than Gawain's personal virtue: namely, whether heavenly virtue can operate in a fallen world.
Thus, what is really being tested in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight might be the chivalric system itself, as
symbolized by Camelot.
Arthur's court depends heavily on the code of chivalry, and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight gently criticizes
the fact that chivalry values appearance and symbols over truth. Arthur is introduced to us as the "most
courteous of all," indicating that people are ranked in this court according to their mastery of a certain code of
behavior and good manners. When the Green Knight challenges the court, he mocks them for being so afraid
of mere words, suggesting that words and appearances hold too much power over the company. The members
of the court never reveal their true feelings, instead choosing to seem beautiful, courteous, and fair−spoken.
On his quest for the Green Chapel, Gawain travels from Camelot into the wilderness. In the forest, Gawain
must abandon the codes of chivalry and admit that his animal nature requires him to seek physical comfort in
order to survive. Once he prays for help, he is rewarded by the appearance of a castle. The inhabitants of
Bertilak's castle teach Gawain about a kind of chivalry that is more firmly based in truth and reality than that
of Arthur's court. These people are connected to nature, as their hunting and even the way the servants greet
Gawain by kneeling on the "naked earth" symbolize (818). As opposed to the courtiers at Camelot, who
celebrate in Part 1 with no understanding of how removed they are from the natural world, Bertilak's courtiers
joke self−consciously about how excessively lavish their feast is (889−890).
The poem does not by any means suggest that the codes of chivalry be abandoned. Gawain's adherence to
them is what keeps him from sleeping with his host's wife. The lesson Gawain learns as a result of the Green
Knight's challenge is that, at a basic level, he is just a physical being who is concerned above all else with his
own life. Chivalry provides a valuable set of ideals toward which to strive, but a person must above all remain
conscious of his or her own mortality and weakness. Gawain's time in the wilderness, his flinching at the
Green Knight's axe, and his acceptance of the lady's offering of the green girdle teach him that though he may
be the most chivalrous knight in the land, he is nevertheless human and capable of error.
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The Letter of the Law − Though the Green Knight refers to his challenge as a "game," he uses the language
of the law to bind Gawain into an agreement with him. He repeatedly uses the word "covenant," meaning a set
of laws, a word that evokes the two covenants represented by the Old and the New Testaments. The Old
Testament details the covenant made between God and the people of Israel through Abraham, but the New
Testament replaces the old covenantwith a new covenant between Christ and his followers. In 2 Corinthians
3:6, Paul writes that Christ has "a new covenant, not of letter but of spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit
gives life." The "letter" to which Paul refers here is the legal system of the Old Testament. From this
statement comes the Christian belief that the literal enforcement of the law is less important than serving its
spirit, a spirit tempered by mercy.
Throughout most of the poem, the covenant between Gawain and the Green Knight evokes the literal kind of
legal enforcement that medieval Europeans might have associated with the Old Testament. The Green Knight
at first seems concerned solely with the letter of the law. Even though he has tricked Gawain into their
covenant, he expects Gawain to follow through on the agreement. And Gawain, though he knows that
following the letter of the law means death, is determined to see his agreement through to the end because he
sees this as his knightly duty.
However, at the poem's end, the covenant takes on a new meaning and begins to resemble the less literal,
more merciful New Testament covenant between Christ and his Church. In a decidedly Christian gesture, the
Green Knight, who is actually Gawain's host, Bertilak, absolves Gawain because Gawain has confessed his
faults. He gives Gawain a penance, in the form of the wound on his neck and the girdle, both of which will
forever remind him of his weakness, but the knight does not follow the covenant to the letter. Bertilak calls it
his right to spare Gawain and releases him from further debt.
Ultimately, it is Gawain who clings to the letter of the law. He seems unable to accept his sin and absolve
himself of it the way Bertilak has, and he continues to do penance by wearing the girdle for the rest of his life.
The Green Knight transforms his literal covenant by offering Gawain justice tempered with mercy, but the
letter of the law still threatens in the story's background, and in Gawain's own psyche.
Motifs
The Seasons − At the beginning of Parts 2 and 4, the poet describes the changing of the seasons. The seasonal
imagery in Part 2 precedes Gawain's departure from Camelot, and in Part 4 his departure from the host's
castle. In both cases, the changing seasons correspond to Gawain's changing psychological state, from
cheerfulness (pleasant weather) to bleakness (the winter). But the five changing seasons also correspond to the
five ages of man (birth/infancy, youth, adulthood, middle age, and old age/death), as well as to the cycles of
fertility and decay that govern all creatures in the natural world. The emphasis on the cyclical nature of the
seasons contrasts with and provides a different understanding of the passage of time from the more linear
narrative of history that frames the poem.
Games − When the poem opens, Arthur's court is engaged in feast−time customs, and Arthur almost seems to
elicit the Green Knight's entrance by requesting that someone tell him a tale. When the Green Knight first
enters, the courtiers think that his appearance probably signals a game of some sort. The Green Knight's
challenge to Gawain is presented as a game, as is the host's later challenge, and even the wordplay that takes
place between Gawain and the lady. The relationship between games and tests is explored because games are
forms of social behavior, while tests provide a measure of an individual's inner worth.
Symbols
The Pentangle − According to the Gawain−poet, King Solomon originally designed the five−pointed star as
his own magic seal. A symbol of truth, the star has five points that link and lock with each other, forming
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what is called the endless knot. Each line of the pentangle passes over one line and under one line, and joins
the other two at its ends. The pentangle symbolizes the virtues to which Gawain aspires: to be faultless in his
five senses; never to fail in his five fingers; to be faithful to the five wounds that Christ received on the cross;
to be strengthened by the five joys that the Virgin Mary had in Jesus (the Annunciation, Nativity,
Resurrection, Ascension, and Assumption); and to possess brotherly love, courtesy, piety, and chastity. The
side of the shield facing Gawain contains an image of the Virgin Mary to make sure that Gawain never loses
heart.
The Green Girdle − The meaning of the girdle belonging to the host's wife changes over the course of the
narrative. It is made out of green silk, embroidered and girded with gold thread, colors that link it to the Green
Knight. She claims that it possesses the power to keep its wearer from harm, but we find out in Part 4 that the
girdle has no magical properties. After the Green Knight reveals his identity as the host, Gawain curses the
girdle as representing cowardice and an excessive love of mortal life. He wears it from then on as a badge of
his sinfulness. To show their support, Arthur and his followers wear green silk baldrics that look just like
Gawain's girdle.
UNIT 3: MIDDLE ENGLISH LITERATURE II
About Geoffrey Chaucer
Before William Shakespeare, Geoffrey Chaucer was the preeminent English poet, and still retains the position
as the most significant poet to write in Middle English. Chaucer was born in the early 1340s to a middle−class
family. His father, John Chaucer, was a vintner and deputy to the king's butler. His family's financial success
came from work in the wine and leather businesses. Little information exists about Chaucer's education, but
his writings demonstrate a close familiarity with a number of important books of his contemporaries and of
earlier times. Chaucer was likely fluent in several languages, including French, Italian and Latin.
Chaucer first appears in public records in 1357 as a member of the house of Elizabeth, Countess of Ulster.
This was a conventional arrangement in which sons of middle−class households were placed in royal service
so that they may obtain a courtly education. Two years later Chaucer served in the army under Edward II and
was captured during an unsuccessful offensive at Reims, although he was later ransomed. Chaucer served
under a number of diplomatic missions. By 1366 Chaucer had married Philippa Pan, who had been in service
with the Countess of Ulster. Chaucer married well for his position, for Philippa Chaucer received an annuity
from the queen consort of Edward II. Chaucer himself secured an annuity as yeoman of the king and was
listed as one of the king's esquires.
Chaucer's first published work was The Book of the Duchess, a poem of over 1,300 lines that is an elegy for
the Duchess of Lancaster. For this first of his important poems, which was published in 1370, Chaucer used
the dream−vision form, a genre made popular by the highly influential 13th−century French poem of courtly
love, the Roman de la Rose, which Chaucer translated into English. Throughout the following decade,
Chaucer continued with his diplomatic career, traveling to Italy for negotiations to open a Genoa port to
Britain as well as military negotiations with Milan. During his missions to Italy, Chaucer encountered the
work of Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, which were later to have profound influence upon his own writing.
In 1374 Chaucer was appointed comptroller of the customs and subsidy of wool, skins, and tanned hides for
the Port of London, his first position away from the British court. Chaucer's only major work during this
period was Hous of Fame, a poem of around 2,000 lines in dream−vision form, but this was not completed.
In a deed of May 1, 1380, Cecily Chaumpaigne charged Chaucer with rape. Rape (raptus) could at the time
mean either sexual assault or abduction; scholars have not been able to establish which meaning applies here,
but, in either case, the release suggests that Chaucer was not guilty as charged. This charge had little effect on
Chaucer's political career. In October 1385, he was appointed a justice of the peace for Kent, and in August
1386 he became knight of the shire for Kent. Around the time of his wife's death in 1387, Chaucer moved to
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Greenwich and later to Kent. Changing political circumstances eventually led to Chaucer falling out of favor
with the royal court and leaving Parliament, but when Richard II became King of England, Chaucer regained
royal favor. During this period Chaucer used writing primarily as an escape from public life. His works
included Parlement of Foules, a poem of 699 lines. This work is a dream−vision for St. Valentine's Day that
makes use of the myth that each year on that day the birds gathered before the goddess Nature to choose their
mates. This work was heavily influenced by Boccaccio and Dante.
Chaucer's next work was Troilus and Criseyde, which was influenced by The Consolation of Philosophy,
written by the Roman philosopher Boethius in the early sixth century and translated into English by Chaucer.
Chaucer took the plot of Troilus from Boccaccio's Filostrato. This eight thousand line poem recounts the love
story of Troilus, son of the Trojan king Priam, and Criseyde, widowed daughter of the deserter priest Calkas,
against the background of the Trojan War.
The Canterbury Tales secured Chaucer's literary reputation. It is his great literary accomplishment, a
compendium of stories by pilgrims traveling to the shrine of Thomas a Becket in Canterbury. Chaucer
introduces each of these pilgrims in vivid brief sketches in the General Prologue and intersperses the
twenty−four tales with short dramatic scenes with lively exchanges. Chaucer did not complete the full plan for
the tales, and surviving manuscripts leave some doubt as to the exact order of the tales that remain. However,
the work is sufficiently complete to be considered a unified book rather than a collection of unfinished
fragments. The Canterbury Tales is a lively mix of a variety of genres told by travelers from all aspects of
society. Among the genres included are courtly romance, fabliau, saint's biography, allegorical tale, beast
fable and medieval sermon.
Information concerning Chaucer's descendants is not fully clear. It is likely that he and Philippa had two sons
and two daughters. Thomas Chaucer died in 1434; he was a large landowner and political officeholder, and
his daughter, Alice, became duchess of Suffolk. Little is known about Lewis Chaucer, Geoffrey Chaucer's
youngest son. Of Chaucer's two daughters, Elizabeth became a nun, while Agnes was a lady−in−waiting for
the coronation of Henry IV in 1399. Public records indicate that Chaucer had no descendants living after the
fifteenth century.
The General Prologue:
As April comes, the narrator begins a pilgrimage to Canterbury from the Tabard Inn at Southwerk.
Twenty−nine people make the pilgrimage toward Canterbury and the narrator describes them in turn. The
pilgrims are listed in relative order of status, thus the first character is the Knight. Chaucer describes the
knight as a worthy man who had fought in the Crusades. With him is a Squire, the son of the Knight and a
'lusty bachelor' of twenty. The Knight has a second servant, a Yeoman. There is also a Prioress, shy and
polite. She is prim and proper, sympathetic and well−mannered. The Prioress wears a broach with the
inscription "All things are subject unto love." With the Prioress is her secretary (the Second Nun) and a Monk.
The monk is a robust and masculine man who loves to hunt. The Friar, Hubert, is an immoral man more
concerned with making profit than converting men from sin. The Merchant from Flanders is a pompous man
who speaks endlessly on how profits may be increased. He seems grave, yet there is no better man, according
to the narrator. The Clerk follows the Merchant. As an Oxford student without employment, he is
impoverished and wears threadbare clothes. The Man of Law is a man who deserves to be held in awe. He
knows the law to the letter and gives the impression that he is far busier than he actually is. A Franklin travels
with him. He is a man who lives in comfort and is interested simply in pleasure, particularly culinary delight.
There are also five guildsmen: a Weaver, a Dyer, a Carpenter, a Tapestry−maker and a Haberdasher. With
them they bring a Cook. A Shipman is the next traveler, who comes from the port of Dartmouth, and with him
a Physician. The Wife of Bath is next; she is a weaver who wears bright red clothing. She has been married
five times (and had several companions as a youth). The Parson is an honorable, decent man who cares for his
congregation and adheres to the teachings of Christ. With him is his brother, a Plowman, who is equally kind.
The final travelers are a Miller, a Manciple, a Reeve, a Summoner and a Pardoner. The Miller is a large man
14
with an imposing physique. The Manciple is from a lawyers' college and knows every legal maneuver. The
Reeve is a slender man with a fiery temper. The Summoner is quite unfair in his job (he is responsible for
serving summons to court for church crimes). If he likes a scoundrel, he can ignore the man's sins. The
Pardoner is an effeminate man. Each of these travelers finds themselves in the Tabard Inn, where the Host, a
bold and merry man, suggests that on their way to Canterbury each traveler tell two tales, and on the way back
each traveler tell two more. They draw lots to decide who will tell the first tale, and it is the Knight who has
the honor.
Analysis:
In the General Prologue, Chaucer sets up the general structure of the tales and introduces each of the
characters who will tell the tales. The characters who tell each of the tales are as important as the characters in
the tales that they tell; a significant portion of the action of the Canterbury Tales takes place within the
prologues to each of the tales. The General Prologue in essence serves as a guide for the tales, giving some
explanation for the motivation behind each of the tales each character tells.
The introductory imagery of the General Prologue mixes the spiritual with the secular and moves between
each form with relative ease. The Canterbury Tales begins with the famous lines "Whanne that Aprill with his
shoures soote / The droghte of March hath perced to the roote," setting up imagery of spring and regeneration.
Yet he does not continue with the logical outcome of this springtime imagery. Instead of conforming to the
cliché "in springtime a young man's fancy turns to love," Chaucer veers into more spiritual territory. In
springtime these travelers make a religious pilgrimage to Canterbury. Yet Chaucer is equally uninterested in
the religious details of this journey, and keeps the beginning passages of the General Prologue focused on
nature and not on the human society with which the travelers will deal.
Chaucer gives relatively straightforward descriptions of the characters and has some inclination to show their
best qualities. Chaucer describes virtually each pilgrimage as an exemplar - a number of these pilgrims are
described as 'perfect' in some way or another, most often in their craft. Furthermore, these pilgrims exist
almost entirely in terms of their profession. Chaucer gives only a few of them character names, and these
emerge only in terms of conversation between the characters during each tale's prologue, and not in Chaucer's
description in the General Prologue.
Yet even within these descriptions he allows for subtle criticism and sly wit. The description of the Prioress in
particular, is overtly flattering yet masquerades a sharp criticism of her foolish sentimentality and oppressive
attention to manners. Although she strives to be polite and refined, she spoke French "after the school of
Stratford−at−Bow," the vulgar rural pronunciation compared to elite Parisian French. Furthermore, she weeps
at the mere sight of a dead mouse, a gross overreaction to a small tragedy.
The descriptions of the upper members of the clergy deserve special note in context of the tales. Each of the
clergymen defy traditional expectations; the Monk is a rough laborer, while the Friar is resolutely immoral.
Chaucer lists the various sins of the Friar: he sells pardon from sin for a price, seduces women who ask for
pardons, and spends more time in bars than he does aiding the poor. His concern for profit is a stark contrast
with that of the Merchant. While the Merchant merely dispenses advice on how to attain profit, it is the Friar
who applies his entire existence to its pursuit. The Friar further contrasts with the later description of the
Parson, a man who performs his duties honorably and cares for his congregation. In his description of the
Parson, Chaucer lists the various admirable qualities, none of which are held by the Friar.
The description of the Merchant is also notable, for it shows the disparity between how the narrator overtly
appraises a character and what he describes. After listing a number of unflattering qualities in the Merchant,
the narrator still judges him to be a fine man; in these descriptions, the details and anecdotes are far more
important in defining character than the final stated opinion of the narrator.
15
Chaucer indulges in comic criticism in his portrait of the Clerk. This Oxford student, however educated, is not
worldly enough for any normal employment. He has studied only impractical knowledge, and even carries
among his few possessions several volumes of Aristotle.
Most of the travelers engaged in a profession receive little description; as the travelers move down the social
scale Chaucer gives them less and less detailed descriptions. The Wife of Bath is the most significant of the
travelers low on the social scale. Chaucer describes her as lewd and boisterous. Her clothing, all variations of
bright red, is ostentatious, meant to attract attention from others. Chaucer even indicates that she is quite
promiscuous - she has been married five times and had an undetermined number of lovers. The other traveler
who merits a lengthy description is the Pardoner. He has a very effeminate manner, with a high voice and soft
features. Chaucer even compares him to a gelding (a castrated horse) or a mare, which may be a subtle
comment on his sexuality.
The prologue sets up the general design of the Canterbury Tales. Each character will tell four tales during the
journey, leading to a grand total of 116 tales. Chaucer never completed all of the tales, starting only about one
fourth of the possible stories, not all of which remain in their entirety. Some of the stories that remain are only
fragments which have either been lost or were never completed by the author.
When the travelers draw lots to decide who will tell the first story, it is the Knight who has the first choice.
Although the order is supposedly random, the Knight draws the first lot and thus randomly receives the rank
appropriate to his status, which indicates that the Host may have fixed the lots in order to curry favor with the
Knight.
Prologue to the Pardoner's Tale:
The Host thinks that the cause of Virginia's death in the previous tale was her beauty. To counter the sadness
of the tale, the Host suggests that the Pardoner tell a lighter tale. The Pardoner delays, for he wants to finish
his meal, but says that he shall tell a moral tale. He says that he will tell a tale with this moral: the love of
money is the root of all evil. He claims that during his sermons he shows useless trifles that he passes off as
saints' relics. He proudly tells about how he defrauds people who believed they have sinned. He states
explicitly that his goal is not to save people from sin, but to gain money from them. The Pardoner says that he
will not imitate the apostles in their poverty, but will have food, comfort, and a wench in every town.
Analysis:
Among the various pilgrims featured in the Canterbury Tales, the Pardoner is one of the most fully realized
characters. The only character to whom Chaucer gives greater detail is the Wife of Bath. The Pardoner is a
fraudulent huckster who shows no qualms about passing off false items as the relics of saints, but he also
demonstrates a great sense of self−loathing. The Pardoner shifts from moments of direct honesty to shameless
deceit, openly admitting the tricks of his trade to the travelers but nevertheless attempting to use these various
methods on these travelers who are aware of his schemes. The Pardoner is in many senses a warped character,
unable to hold to any consistent code of moral behavior. Even in his physicality he is deformed. The General
Prologue, suggesting that the Pardoner resembles a 'gelding or a mare,' hints that the Pardoner may be a
congenital eunuch or, taken less literally, that he is a homosexual. In his deformity the Pardoner becomes a
shell of a person. Although he is one of the most developed characters, he is the character perhaps most
defined by his profession. The Pardoner has substituted a system of values with a rote performance, which
conforms to his profession, which substitutes a meaningless monetary transaction for penance for sin. The
Pardoner therefore suggests a traditional Vice character who behaves strictly out of the most impure motives,
but where he departs from vice characters, who shamelessly commit misdeeds for their own pleasure, is that
he lacks the necessary amoral quality. The Pardoner is not a moral man, but he nevertheless has a moral
system to which he most certainly does not adhere.
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The Pardoner's Tale:
There once lived in Flanders a group of three rioters who did nothing but engage in irresponsible and sinful
behavior. They were blasphemous drunkards who, while in a tavern one night, witnessed men carrying a
corpse to its grave. A boy told the rioters that the dead man was one of their friends, slain by an unseen thief
called Death. They remark that Death has slain thousands, and vow to slay Death themselves. The three
drunken men go off to find Death, but only come across an ancient man shrouded in robes. He claims that
Death will not take him, and says that they can find Death underneath a nearby oak tree. When they found the
tree they only found bushels of gold. They decide to take the treasure and divide it evenly, but realize that if
they immediate went into town with it they would be presumed robbers. They therefore draw lots; the one
with the shortest straw shall go into town and fetch food and drink for them. They shall stay in the forest with
the gold until they can leave in the middle of the night. The youngest drew the shortest lot and was sent into
town. The two that remain decide to murder the third once he returns, for they would then be able to divide
the gold by two instead of three. However, while the third rioter was in town, he bought poison from an
apothecary which he poured into the wine bottle. When he returned, the two rioters stabbed the third,
murdering him. They then drank the poisoned wine and died themselves.
The Pardoner interrupts the end of his tale with a diatribe against the sin of avarice, then launches into a
sermon in which he attempts to sell relics to the other travelers. The Host argues with him, telling him that the
only relic he would want from the Pardoner is his testicles enclosed in a hog's turd. The knight mediates the
conflict.
Analysis:
The Pardoner's Tale is a direct extension of the personality of the narrator, an overtly moralistic tale that
serves primarily to elicit a specific response. It is a particularly shameless tale, a condemnation of avarice that
stems from the avarice of its narrator; by condemning the sin, the Pardoner hopes to motivate the travelers to
pay the Pardoner to absolve their sins. The character of the Pardoner is omnipresent throughout the tale, which
is told in an intimidating oratorical style that intends to create a sense of horror at the consequences for sinful
action. Throughout the tale the narrator drifts in and out from the story, as the Pardoner occasionally leaves
the plot of the tale to launch into sermons against sin. Finally, at the conclusion of the tale, he reveals the
rationale for this authorial intervention, preaching against avarice for the sole intention of selling phony relics
to the travelers. The tale is thus less of a fully formed narrative than a performance given by the Pardoner in
which he never submerges his presence in the story.
The importance of the narrator is reflected in the relative unimportance of the characters in the story. The
three rioters are anonymous hoodlums to whom the narrator gives no distinctive characteristics. The one
distinction that the Pardoner makes among the three is that the rioter who is sent for food and drink is younger
than the other two. Their characteristics are uniformly negative, but relatively broad - they are avaricious, but
also drunkards and murderers, which gives the Pardoner opportunity to condemn a vast array of sins.
The old man that points the rioters in the direction of death is the single developed character in the story, a
grotesque figure who waits to die out of extreme weariness for life. When he tells the rioters that he wishes to
die, he claims that he walks on the ground, his 'mother's gate,' and asks to return to the earth (in the form of a
decayed corpse). This conforms to the idea of rebirth, as the old man asks to return to the earth (his mother's
womb) presumably to be born once again. However, for the old man this is only his second choice. He would
prefer to exchange bodies with a young man, but can find no man willing to trade. He suffers the misery of a
man who does sees no hope for redemption. He does not consider the possibility of heaven and Christian
redemption, but rather adheres to ideas of earthly reincarnation. Quite significantly, this is the only expression
of any spirituality contained in the Pardoner's Tale. The Pardoner has little concern with actual religious
matters and makes no real reference to Christianity. His concern is money, and the Christian religion is only
the means to achieve this end.
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The Tale itself is a relatively simplistic moral fable that hinges on the distinctions between literal and
figurative language. The initial personification of death that the young child uses as a metaphor and
euphemism leads to the actual physical manifestation of Death as a tangible object: the piles of gold that the
three rioters find. The plot of the tale derives from the rioters' literal interpretation of euphemism - since death
has taken their friend, they must find death. This personification of death finally becomes metaphor once
again when the piles of gold represent the death that they find.
UNIT 4: MIDDLE ENGLISH III
IT is probable that the sacred play was brought to England from France after the Norman conquest.
Throughout the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries there was a constant supply of mysteries and
miracles. More than one hundred English towns, some of them very small, are known to have been provided
with these entertainments, which in some places were given every year. Usually, however, an interval of a few
years elapsed between productions. Corpus Christi day, which falls in early June, was the most popular time,
though Whitsuntide and occasionally other Church festal days were marked by performances. On one
occasion the Parish Clerks gave a pageant which lasted for three days, and again one lasting for eight days.
The boy choristers of Saint Paul's in London became celebrated for their histrionic ability, and in 1378 they
begged Parliament to issue an injunction against "unskilled performers." In 1416 Henry V entertained the
Emperor Sigismund at Windsor with a play on the subject of Saint George; and in the following year the
English bishops who were delegated to the Council of Constance−−the same Council which promised safe
conduct to John Huss and then burned him at the stake−−entertained their hosts with a Christmas play in three
parts, the Nativity, the Visit of the Magi, and the Slaughter of the Innocents. Two performances were given,
one for their fellow councillors and themselves, the other for the burghers of the town.
Some of the extant manuscripts. The usual name for these plays in England was miracle, or the Latin ludus, or
sometimes the word history. The name mystery is said to have been first applied, in England, in the early
eighteenth century by Dodsley, the editor of a volume of old plays. Of the extant manuscripts, the earliest is
probably the Harrowing of Hell, in three versions, all of which were probably taken from the French. It is
simply a dramatic dialogue in verse, in which Christ and Satan argue over the ownership of the souls in hell;
and it belongs naturally with the Easter group of plays. Two plays were discovered during the twentieth
century, one on the subject of Abraham and Isaac; the other, belonging to the lost Newcastle Cycle, on the
Building of the Ark, both probably surviving from the fourteenth century.
The Cycles. The greater part of the important manuscripts of biblical drama belongs to the cycles−−a
medieval product in a sense peculiar to England−−which attempted to cover the history of Man from his
creation to the Day of Judgment. In these cycles there appeared, almost unconsciously, something like the
principle of unity: first came the creation, then the fall of Man, which necessitated his redemption. This
redemption, after being foretold by the prophets, was accomplished by the birth and passion of Christ, with
his resurrection. The series, taken as a whole, formed a true dramatic sequence, in which the soul of Man was
the hero.
There are commonly counted four important English cycles: Chester, York, Coventry, and Towneley (also
called Wakefield). Cycles are also known to have been produced at Newcastle, Canterbury, and Lincoln. Of
those that survive, the Chester cycle is probably the earliest. Of the Newcastle cycle but one play remains, The
Building of the Ark, in which there are five characters, and Noah's wife is represented as a vixen. Such is her
stubborn temper that Noah is constrained to say to her,
"The devil of hell thee speed
To ship when thou shalt go!"
The cycles vary in quality, and the plays are not always the work of one hand, nor even of one century. The
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manuscripts, as we have them, have been revised, edited, and arranged, probably from several earlier models,
possibly in some cases from the French. In the different cycles there is naturally great similarity both in
subject matter and in the sequence of plays; but there are also interesting differences of treatment.
THROUGH practically a thousand years while the European theater was "dark" the Christian Church was
unable to stamp out completely the festive element among the common people that manifested itself
particularly at the spring planting time and the harvest season. It is probable, had not the church itself
responded to the primitive desire of people to "act out" the stories of their lives, that secular drama would
have sprung up in place of the Mystery, Miracle and Morality plays of the Middle Ages.
It must be remembered, too, that everywhere the service of the church was conducted in Latin rendering it
quite unintelligible to the masses of the people. If they were to be familiar with the stories of the Bible that
knowledge must come to them through the medium of a portrayal of events in the life of Christ and of his
saints. When the early attempts were made by the priests to act out the stories of the Christmas and Easter
seasons, there was little or no national consciousness in continental Europe. It was, to all intents and purposes,
one vast domain living under a feudal system and acknowledging a nominal allegiance first to Charlemagne
and later to the "Holy Roman Emperor of the German people." There was, too, but one religion. This religious
and political unity made it extremely easy for the ideas of the Mystery and Miracle plays to spread through the
agency of the bards and troubadors that wandered from court to court of the feudal barons.
At first only the priests took part in acting out the events from the lives of Christ and the saints and the
portrayal took place in the Church proper. Later as the performances grew more elaborate and space became
an important item the Mysteries and Miracles were pushed out into the courtyards of the churches and laymen
began to take part in the acting.
By the beginning of the twelfth century national boundaries were becoming more or less marked. England by
its geographical position was isolated from the currents of thought that flowed through continental Europe,
and there, as the people took over the responsibility for the acting of the sacred plays, it became the custom to
turn individual incidents over to the guilds of the various crafts. Also, there arose a feeling of need to present,
not only isolated incidents or groups of related incidents at Christmas and Easter, but the whole history of man
from his creation to the day of judgment. The various incidents of this long story were divided among the
guilds of a district, staged on wagons easily drawn from one place to another, and were presented in proper
sequence at set stations throughout the district. This complete history enacted by the various guilds came to be
referred to as a "cycle" and for further identification was referred to by the name of the district in which it was
presented. Viewed from the light of modern times the four most important cycles were those of Chester, York,
Coventry, and Towneley (also called Wakefield). That these cycles, even though religious in nature, took into
account the popular love of comedy is evidenced by the fact that in the only surviving incident of the
Newcastle cycle Noah's wife is represented as a vixen.
About the same time, both in England and on the continent, the idea was conceived of representing the Virtues
and Vices by name in the persons of actors, to afford the audience a "moral" lesson. From this grew the
Moralities of which the most famous are the English Castell of Perseverance and Everyman ... the latter
presumably an import from Holland.
Both the Mystery and the Morality plays were often long winded and frequently dull. To relieve the tedium
"interludes" were presented which were nothing more nor less than slapstick farces as a rule more
distinguished for their vulgarity than their humor. Most of these farces came originally from France or Italy
and dealt either with the subject of sex or digestion. At their best, however, they carry on the true tradition of
the Greek comedy writers and the Roman Plautus and Terence. From these "interludes" (literally "between the
games," which was their actual use in Italy) developed a swift moving farce that was acted independently of
any other performance. The best and most famous of these farces of the Middle Ages is the French Farce of
Pierre Pathelin
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The remarkable fact that the revival of the drama in modern Europe was due to the Christian Church has been
abundantly proved and illustrated. At first, certain parts of the church ritual were expanded in action, and
especially at the great religious festivals of Christmas and Easter attempts were made to exhibit vividly before
the faithful what the service was intended to commemorate. The Wise Men from the East, who had been
guided by a miraculous star, worshipped and presented their gifts before the cradle of the Divine babe; the
Virgin Mother was represented by a girl with a child in her arms; the Resurrection was suggested by a priest
rising from a mimic sepulchre. Later the action was extended, and dialogues were added. These were, of
course, in Latin, the universal language of the Church. Gradually scenes from other Scripture stories were
combined with those strictly belonging to the service. These church dramas may have been inartistic, but they
were characterized by strict simplicity and earnest devotion.
After a time, these or similar miracle−plays were performed outside of the churches, in the streets of towns or
in the fields, at fairs or places of public resort. The actors were priests or monks, and the performance was still
religious, including the legends of the saints, as well as Scripture histories. At times, perhaps, a touch of
nature was added to gratify the rabble who flocked to the show.
THE MYSTERY PLAY
Eventually the place of the Latin prose play in the festivals of the Church was usurped by a Mystery in French
verse. No pains seem to have been spared to heighten the attractiveness of the latter in its new home.
Characterized in itself by a simple dignity befitting the treatment of such themes, it was acted with all the
pomp and circumstances associated with Roman Catholic worship; and nowhere shall we find a grander or
more impressive spectacle than a Mystery of the Passion, as performed in one of these grand old Gothic piles.
Banners hung above the fretted arches; the odor of incense filled the air; tapers shone brightly in the dim light
from storied and diversely−colored windows; elaborate processions wound their way through the aisle to the
strains of solemn music; the figures of the priest−players stood out in clear relief against the splendor of the
altar, as, facing thousands of rapt spectators, they gravely declaimed, with appropriate gestures, the dialogue
intended to set forth the events which led up to the Crucifixion.
STREET PERFORMANCES
So potent a means of entertaining the masses could not long be kept within the pale of the sanctuary, where, to
use a simile from Goethe, it was like an oak in a vase of porcelain. It disengaged itself from direct
ecclesiastical influence, returned to the market−place, and became an independent institution. Mysteries and
Miracles−−the latter dealing with the Virgin and saints−−were played by guilds and companies expressly
organized for the purpose, and no popular festivity was deemed complete without one or more of these
instructive entertainments. They were given on scaffolds in the streets, with the actors in more or less archaic
costume, with an organ at the back to accompany a chorus of angels, and also with some attempt to indicate
the place of the different actions. Occasionally farce was introduced into the most serious scenes. Especially
comic was the figure of the devil, who, appearing on the stage as he was popularly supposed to be−−a
deformed and hairy sprite, with horns, dragon's wings, long tail and cloven feet−−was subjected to the
greatest cruelties and indignities. Nothing was then deemed too cruel for the presumed author of all the ills
and annoyances experienced by mankind. Roars of laughter filled the air when holy men spat in his face,
when liberties were taken with his tail, when a stalwart anchorite brought him to the dust with a well−directed
blow, and, above all, when a courageous saint seized him by the nose with red−hot pincers.
UNIT 5: THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE I. Elizabethan Poetry
General characteristics
Humanism
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The Humanist Philosophy
The new interest in secular life led to beliefs about education and society that came from Greece and Rome.
The secular, humanist idea held that the church should not rule civic matters, but should guide only spiritual
matters. The church disdained the accumulation of wealth and worldly goods, supported a strong but limited
education, and believed that moral and ethical behavior was dictated by scripture. Humanists, however,
believed that wealth enabled them to do fine, noble deeds, that good citizens needed a good, well−rounded
education (such as that advocated by the Greeks and Romans), and that moral and ethical issues were related
more to secular society than to spiritual concerns.
Rebirth of Classical Studies
The rebirth of classical studies contributed to the development of all forms of art during the Renaissance.
Literature was probably the first to show signs of classical influence. The Italian poet Petrarch (1304−1374)
delighted in studying the works of Cicero and Virgil, two great writers of the Roman age, and he modeled
some of his own writings on their works. Although he often wrote in Latin, attempting to imitate Cicero's
style, Petrarch is most renowned for his poetry in Italian. As one of the first humanists, and as a writer held in
high esteem in his own time, he influenced the spread of humanism−−first among his admirers, and later
throughout the European world.
Spiritual Matters
During the Renaissance, a churchman named Martin Luther changed Christianity. On October 31, 1517, he
went to his church in the town of Wittenburg, Germany, and posted a list of things that worried him about the
church. His list included the church's practice of selling indulgences, a means by which people could pay the
church to reduce the amount of time their souls must spend in purgatory instead of atoning for their sins via
contrition. Luther also requested that, when appropriate, Mass be said in the native language instead of in
Latin so that the church's teachings would be more accessible to the people. This request for reform ignited
the beginnings of the Protestant Reformation. Many other Christians agreed that the church needed to change,
and several new Christian religions were established during this time. The old church became known as
Roman Catholic, and new Christian sects were known by their leaders−−among them Lutherans (Luther) and
Calvinists (John Calvin).
The Reformation
Jean Calvin
To contemporaries, the reordering of religion and the sundering of the social unity that it had once provided to
European culture was the most significant development of the sixteenth century. It is impossible to understand
the time without taking a look at this. Religion was not a matter of personal preference or opinion, it was the
very basis of society.
The Pre−Reform
The rediscovery of the learning of the ancient world, the printing press, and all the other forces that came
together to create the Renaissance also affected the Church. At the end of the fifteenth century and the
beginning of the sixteenth, Christian humanists sought to apply the new style of scholarship to the study of
scriptures in their original languages and to return to the first principles of their religion. In the interests of
spreading religious understanding, they began to translate the Bible into the vernacular languages. The end of
the fifteenth century saw a popular spiritual revival of a more mystical nature as well, characterised by such
works as Thomas à Kempis' Imitatio Christi (translated and published in every major European language).
The Renaissance belief in the "perfectability of man" made people less content with things as they were, and
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more interested in improving them in the here and now. No one could argue that the church was not corrupt:
holding vast wealth, exercising enormous political power and waging war, it was administered by holders of
patronage positions that had more interest in lining their pockets than in promoting the welfare of their
"flocks". The Christian humanists criticized these all−too−human failings, while striving for a purer church.
The early years of the sixteenth century were graced by some great Christian humanist intellects: Erasmus,
Lefèvre d'Etaples, and others. Marguerite de Navarre, François Ier's sister, was a great patron, and François Ier
as an enlightened Renaissance prince himself, was sympathetic and once offered Erasmus the leadership of his
new College de France, founded to promote classical learning. The Bishop of Meaux, Guillaume Briçonnet,
gathered a circle of inquiring intellects and passionate, reform−minded preachers around him there during the
early 1520s. There was no particular intention of breaking from the church at this time, merely a passion for
improving it.
The Gallican Tradition
Since Clovis, the French crown has had a special relationship to the church. There was no concept of the
separation of church and state in France. The Pope gave the kings of France the title of "Most Christian
King," and at his consecration (itself a holy rite) the King takes an oath to extirpate heresy in his realm. In
spite of this close relationship, or perhaps because of it, the Gallican church in France has also traditionally
enjoyed more independence from the central church hierarchy. The King's rights to govern the church were
unprecendented. In 1516 the Concordat of Bologna confirmed François Ier's right to make appointments to
benefices, but gave the Pope the right to veto unqualified candidates and to collect a year's revenue from each
post. Although this gave the Pope many rights, it gave the king more. The king of France had enormous
powers to dispose of the Church's wealth and he could (and did) use the offices of bishops, abbots, etc. to
provide sinecures for his faithful followers. This also meant that lords of the church were usually quite
worldly people, often quite unfit for their offices if spirituality or theological learning is considered a
requirement. (The Pope's veto was hardly ever exercised.) There was no restraint against a single individual
holding many simultaneous titles, and there were plenty of bishops who lived well on their revenues and never
set foot in their sees. The weaving together of obligation, reward, and responsibility between church and state
made for a unique Gallican fusion of church and state, with the University of Paris (the Sorbonne) acting as
the scholastic think−tank arm of the church−state complex.
Luther
In 1517, a dispute about who was entitled to a cut of the revenues generated by itinerant papal indulgence
sellers provoked the controversy that led the Augustinian monk, Martin Luther, to nail his 95 theses to the
church door at Wittenburg. The upshot of Luther's theses was that Christians are saved by faith, and faith
alone, and that no amount of works (including the purchase of indulgences) made any difference at all. A
drastic enough view, but not one that was immediately perceived as having the ultimate consequences that it
eventually did. The Pope, Leo X, was a fairly easy going fellow, not inclined to vigorously prosecute this first
appearance of heresy. There were plenty of heterodox views in the air at the time, and he thought it could be
worked out diplomatically.
As it turns out, it could not. Luther was not immediately burnt for a heretic; he was allowed to present his case
in court and had a powerful effect on the populace. He also had a powerful patron and protector in the Elector
of Saxony, who shielded him from the ecclesiastical authorities. In addition, the media explosion brought on
by the printing press spread his message much further than it otherwise might have gone, and made him the
focus for all sorts of religious, spiritual, political, and economic discontent. The right to read and interpret
scripture lead to the throwing off of the chains of papal and ecclesiastical authority; and taking this to mean
political and economic freedom as well, there were widespread revolts among the German peasantry. This
horrified Luther and many of the civil powers.
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The deep belief that religious uniformity was essential for political and and social stability made heterodox
opinions a potential act of treason. It was not the desire of the intellectual reformers to challenge civil
authority, but it was a consequence. The German states were small political units: principalities, duchies,
electorates, and so on, all theoretically owing loyalty to the Holy Roman Emperor as overlord, but most
exercising a fairly independent course a lot of the time. As the leaders of these states made their choices for or
against the new opinion, their populations went with them (like it or not). For many, the attractions of
"nationalizing" church property was a powerful incentive to become a reformer. Political alliances were made
and remade in the name of religion throughout the rest of the century.
The Day of the Placards
After Luther made it more difficult to be neutral, the hidebound, rigidly scholastic Sorbonne denounced the
Circle of Meaux as heretics in 1525. Some recanted, some fled into exile, some became avowed Protestants,
some fled to the shelter of Marguerite de Navarre's court. During the 1520s and 30s the lines between
evangelical Christian humanists and Protestants were very vague. Seminal humanists like Erasmus and
Lefèvre d'Etaples never left the Church, not wishing to see its fundamental unity destroyed, while others
became religious and social radicals.
In spite of the fear inspired by the example of Luther's followers, the Most Christian King of France was fairly
tolerant of the spirit of inquiry and truly valued scholarship. He generally prevented the doctors of the
Sorbonne from doing their worst against anyone challenging their medieval views.
However, this tolerance changed with the "Day of the Placards." Early Sunday morning on October 18, 1534,
Parisians and many other citizens of northern France awoke to find the city plastered with broadsides
denouncing the Catholic mass as "an insufferable abuse", condemning the Eucharist in very vitriolic language,
and threatening the priesthood for "disinheriting" kings, princes, and so on by its practice. One of these
appeared on the king's bedroom door. This was not just a theological debate, but an attack on the fundamental
social fabric. It confirmed the popular suspicion that the "Lutherans" were not only heretics, but rebels and
traitors.
A few culpable parties were rounded up and burned, and François Ier responded to this challenge to his dual
role as head of the state and the church in France by holding a massive procession of the Holy Eucharist
through Paris, in which all the royal and parliamentary institutions participated. Sporadic suppression of
Protestantism followed, but it was all very inconsistent. Rabelais wrote his satirical works during this time and
managed never to be burnt for them, while others went to the stake for much less.
Calvin
In the wave of suppression that followed the Day of the Placards, one of the exiles was a evangelical humanist
named Jean Cauvin (latinized as Calvin), from Noyon in Picardy. He had studied law and had made a bit of
name in humanist circles with a work on Seneca.
In 1536 Calvin published (in Latin) The Institutes of the Christian Religion in Basel. He sojourned in
Strasbourg from 1538−1541, refining his thoughts on how to create God's kingdom on earth, and ultimately
landed in Geneva. The Institutes were published in French in 1541, and had the most profound effect of any
book save the Bible on the development of Protestantism in France. Ironically, the first edition of this book
was dedicated to King François, perhaps in the hope that the generally open−minded king could still be
persuaded to adopt the reformed religion.
Calvin did not really add anything particularly new to Protestant theology in the Institutes, but he gave much
more logical and analytical structure to its doctrines. His book was an effective educational tool, intended to
be the foundation for organizing a new Christianity (and by implication, a more godly new society).
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Calvinism is strongly identified with the doctrine of predestination, but this was not really a novel view −− it
was implicit in Luther's doctrines also. It was Calvin's legalistic explanation of the significance of it and other
standard articles of Protestant confession that made the difference.
It is an intense irony that the citizens of Geneva, a people who were so determined to be free from an
oppressive church hierarchy, who held as an article of faith the priesthood of all believers, and who were
fanatical about the liberty to study and interpret the scriptures for themselves, should end up establishing a
theocracy where the Kingdom of God was so rigidly enforced that staying up after 9 o'clock in a public inn
was a crime.
Incidentally, the Lutherans and Calvinists came to despise each other. Montaigne recounts the story of visiting
a town in Germany and having an interesting discussion with the pastor of the church there. (Montaigne was
insatiably curious about other's beliefs and never passed up the opportunity to talk to Lutherans, Jews,
witches, and anyone else of interest). This Lutheran pastor held that he would rather celebrate the mass of
Rome than so much as walk into the service of the Calvinists. Le plus ça change...
The Council of Trent
Eventually the church mobilized itself to deal with splintering of its authority and held the Council of Trent. It
was the purpose of this council to try to define a common ground of belief and practice for all Christians, and
to attempt to heal the schism. It opened in 1545 in the last years of François's reign, and met for 18 years,
during which it healed nothing. There was little hope that the Protestant views would be truly accomodated
and honestly debated, and the end result was that Trent ended up reinforcing the more uniquely Catholic
aspects of religion in contradiction to the Protestant practice. The special place of Mary was reaffirmed, for
example, as well as the role of devotional works, the sacraments, the saints and angels, the role of Latin in
worship, the sole privilege of the clergy to interpret scripture, the primacy of the pope, and all the other
traditional trappings.
The Gallican church played next to no role in the Council of Trent, and refused to register its decrees. During
its early years of convocation, the Papacy was dominated by Hapsburg political influences. The Valois were at
war with the Hapsburgs throughout the reigns of François I and his son Henry II, and papal/French relations
were at a very low point. The Gallican church was very prickly about its rights and did not acknowledge that
the Pope or the Council had any right to interfere in the internal affairs of the church of France.
The Counter−Reformation
The Council of Trent did try to address some of the abuses of the church, calling for a more effective,
educated, and involved clergy. The most effective tool of the church came into being during this time. A
Spanish bravo was wounded by a cannonball in 1521 and in his frustration at never being able to follow the
noble profession of arms again, turned to the comfort of religion. Ignatius Loyola applied a very military
sensibility to the development of spirituality, and founded the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits took education of
the laity and the common clergy as one of their special goals. They answered to no earthly power but the
Pope, and served as the premier strike force of the Counter−Reformation. By 1559, they were were a world
power.
There were several other notable saints of the Counter−Reformation. Some responded to the "faith not works"
challenge of the Protestants by finding a new vocation in social justice. Vincent de Paul and Francis de Sales
were intensely devoted to caring for the poor, founding orders with that mission at a time when an emerging
capitalist economy was adding to the social wreckage. It was a time of increasing poverty and homelessness in
the face of growing wealth and power for the elite, and this brand of counter−reformation Catholic chose to
stand on the side of the meek and humble. Henri IV strongly approved of St. Francis de Sales.
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There was also a Counter−reformation revival of Catholic mysticism, another reaction to the desire for a more
personal relationship with God. St. John of the Cross probed The Dark Night of the Soul, and St. Theresa of
Avila explored The Interior Castle where God dwelt. Theresa reformed the Carmelites and spread
contemplation at the same time that her countryman Loyola was spreading orthodoxy by whatever means
necessary. Women played a major role in the Counter−Reformation, just as they did in the Reformation. Some
were public leaders themselves, but most were leaders of a quieter sort, patronizing the saints, thinkers, and
preachers, motivating their families, and acting in their communities.
The post−Trendentine church also took a stronger interest in family life, the roles of husband and wife, parent
and child, and the responsibilities of the parents to train their children up in the faith. They began to oppose
the excesses of Carnival and other types of pagan "laxity" that was part of everyday life, and began to promote
a more watchful sexual morality. Many of the "family values" that we now think of as characteristically
"Catholic" were formed during this time and were a response to the Puritan tendencies of the Protestants.
The Demographics of Dissent
Historians have debated for a long time who the Protestants were, why the new faith appealed to them, where
the social/religious fault lines lay and why. Marxists have seen a class struggle between the lower orders and
the elite, others a conflict between a feudal Catholicism and a capitalist Protestantism, still others the appeal
of a more "rational" religion to better educated minds during a time of social flux.
Recent scholarship on this subject has finally provided some hard data. Protestantism in France had more
more appeal in the towns than in the countryside, except in the South which had a long tradition of
anti−clericalism, heresy, and independence from the crown. In the towns, artisans and learned professionals
made up a disproportionate number of the Huguenots (when and why this term was coined for French
Protestants is unknown). They were overwhelmingly more literate than the general population, which was
important for a religion that so strongly emphasized bible study. Members of new trades like printing and
bookselling, as well as newly prestigious trades like painting and goldsmithing, and new manufacturing
technologies like silk−making were more likely to take to Protestantism than members of older, more
tradition−bound trades. As a whole, these were artisans with more education, independence, and
entrepreneurial spirit than average. At least, these generalizations are true in those regions of France where
these kinds of trades were strong. Regional context varies and the popularity or lack thereof of the reformed
religion needs to be weighed against local conditions, but for the most part, Huguenot artisans were working
in trades that their fathers never knew.
Observers have always noted a certain congeniality between Protestantism and capitalism, even though the
great banking families and merchant houses first emerged in the Italian city−states, a Catholic region where
the church was such a strong native industry that the reform never had a chance. The sober, industrious
lifestyle followed by most Protestants went well with the demands of making money in trade and industry. It
depends on whether or not you think this is a good thing −− some have seen in the Protestant work ethic the
sublimation of people who have no absolution, no ritual means of forgiveness, and who must therefore throw
themselves into their worldly labor to forget. Economically, the northern countries and the Atlantic−based
trade prospered during this time and many of the nations on the economic upswing were Protestant. In the
Netherlands, the southern towns like Antwerp (where Catholicism was imposed by the Spanish) lost out to the
growing economic power of the Protestant northern provinces as many refugees fled the Spanish wars to make
new lives in places like Amsterdam. Those towns and provinces that prefered to do business rather than
enforce religious purity on their subjects did better in the emerging modern world.
French Protestantism would never have amount to the potent social force it became if it had remained a
religion of artisans. In the 1550s and 1560s, large numbers of noble elites were attracted to it. Calvin made a
concerted effort to recruit them, sending Geneva−trained French evangelists into the country with a mission to
influence the powerful decision−makers. Very often, these decision−makers were reached through the
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influence of their mothers and wives.
Marguerite de Navarre's early humanist patronage blossomed into a full−fledged Protestant conviction in her
daughter, Jeanne d'Albret, the Queen of Navarre, Duchess d'Albret, Countess of Bearn and Vicomtesse of
Foix. Jeanne brought along her waffling and opportunistic husband, Antoine de Bourbon, raised her son
Henry de Navarre in the religion, and made the reformed faith the state religion in her territories. This rock of
reform made for a powerful base in the Southwest, where the Huguenots enjoyed more popular support than
anywhere else.
Among the other noteworthy converts were the Prince de Condé, another Bourbon and prince of the blood,
and the Châtillon brothers: Gaspard de Coligny, Odet Cardinal de Châtillon (who never gave up his cardinal's
hat), and François d'Andelot. Many of the nobles no doubt took this course out of opportunism, loyalty to their
patrons, and similar motives, but some like Coligny have no such stain in the characters at all. [Catherine de'
Medici is reputed to have disliked Coligny because she couldn't understand a person who was not motivated
by personal gain and self−interest.]
An elite group that was also initially attracted to the religion were the judges of the parliamentary courts. This
was particularly threatening to the social order, and Henri II took steps to deal with it. One of the famous early
Protestant martyrs was Anne du Bourg, a Protestant magistrate who defied the king in the Parliament of Paris
and was burned for his intransigence in 1559. Signficantly, the charges were not just heresy but sedition and
lese majesté. The year 1559 also saw the untimely death of Henri II, which set the stage for the transformation
of the social issues of the Reformation into out and out civil war. (See Wars of Religion.)
Doctrine
This is by no means a work of theology, but the following tables compares a few of the key doctrinal issues
separating the Protestants (specifically Calvinists) from the Catholics.
Protestant
Justification by faith −− Christ's sacrifice atones
for all sins, and it is only necessary to believe in it
to be saved. There is nothing humans can do by
their own efforts to add or detract from it.
The priesthood of all believers −− all believers
have equal access to God and no other earthly
intermediaries are needed. This does not mean
that the flock does not need teachers, but there are
no special sacramental functions belonging to any
particular class.
The scriptures as the only source of true doctrine
−− studying and understanding the scriptures is
therefore important to all believers. Translating
the Bible into the vernacular tongues and making
it available to all is essential.
The Lord's Supper is symbolic and the body and
blood of Christ are not physically present. To
believe otherwise is to commit idolatory.
No heavenly intermediaries are needed to
intercede with God. Atlhough the Virgin Mary,
saints, and angels are all in heaven, they should
Catholic (Council of Trent)
Both faith and good works (acts of devotion, charity, the
sacraments, etc.) are necessary for salvation.
The Catholic priesthood is necessary as only priests can
perform the sacramentsnecessary for spirtual health and
correctly interpret the meaning of scripture.
Scripture is only one way in which doctrine is revealed;
the decisions of church councils, encyclicals from the
Pope, tradition, etc. are all part of it. Only the priesthood
of the church can correctly interpret the meaning of
scripture −− do not try this at home.
The Eucharist is a mystery in which the sacrifice of
Christ is reenacted; the bread and wine become
spiritually transformed into the true body and blood of
the Lord.
Although the saints and angels should not be worshipped,
their intercession is valuable and necessary to helping the
Christian to achieve salvation. The Virgin Mary is
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not be the objects of prayer or veneration. The
especially honored by God, and should be also by
making of images encourages idolatrous worship believers. Religious images should not be worshipped,
that should be directed at the more abstract
but they help to inspire devotion (these fine points were
concept of God.
often lost on the average peasant).
God's foreknowledge and ominipotence mean that
God's omnipotence does not restrict human will, and each
everyone is predestined to their fate: either to be
individual is still responsible for earning their own
or not to be one of the elect. Human action avails
salvation.
nothing.
There are seven sacraments: baptism, Eucharist (see
above), penance (confession/ absolution), confirmation,
The Bible only documents two sacraments:
marriage, holy orders, extreme unction (last rites). Of
baptism and the Lord's Supper (so called to
these, baptism can be performed by anyone in an
distinguish the Protestant practice from the
emergency, and marriage (a historical newcomer to the
Catholic Eucharist)
list) is technically bestowed by the two partners on one
another −− all the rest can only be performed by a priest.
THE ENGLISH SONNET
Thomas Wyatt(1503−1542) was born at Allington Castle, near Maidstone, in Kent, in 1503, son of Henry
and Anne. His first court appearance was as Sewer Extraordinary to Henry VIII in 1516, in which year he also
entered St. John's College, University of Cambridge. In 1520 (?) he married Elizabeth Brooke (daughter of
Lord Cobham); she bore him a son, Thomas, in 1521. In 1524 he was engaged by King Henry VIII to fulfill
various offices at home and abroad.2
Around 1525, Wyatt separated from his wife, charging her with adultery; it is also the year from which his
interest in Anne Boleyn probably dates. He accompanied Sir Thomas Cheney on a diplomatic mission to
France in 1526 and, the following year, accompanied Sir John Russell to the papal court in Rome, and to
Venice. He was made High Marshal of Calais (1528−1530) and Commissioner of the Peace of Essex (1532),
accompanying Henry and Anne Boleyn (now the king's mistress) to Calais later the same year. In January
1533 Anne Boleyn married Henry; Wyatt served in her coronation in June.
Wyatt was knighted in 1535, but in 1536 he was imprisoned in the Tower for quarreling with the Duke of
Suffolk, and possibly also because he was suspected of being one of Anne Boleyn's lovers. During this
imprisonment Wyatt witnessed the execution of Anne Boleyn on May 19, 1536 from the Bell Tower, and
wrote V. Innocentia Veritas Viat Fides Circumdederunt me inimici mei. He was released later that year, and in
November of the year his father Henry died.
Wyatt was back in favor, and made ambassador to the court of the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, in Spain.
He returned to England in June 1539, and later that year was again ambassador to Charles until May 1540.
Wyatt's praise of country life, and the cynical comments about foreign courts, in his verse epistle Mine Own
John Poins derive from his own experience.
In 1541 he was charged with treason on a revival of charges originally levelled against him in 1538 by
Edmund Bonner, now Bishop of London, that while ambassador, Wyatt had had dealings with Cardinal Pole
and been rude about the King's person. Wyatt was again confined to the Tower, where he wrote an
impassioned 'Defence'. He received a royal pardon, perhaps at the request of Queen Catharine Howard, and
was fully restored to favor in 1542. Wyatt was given various royal offices after his pardon, but he became ill
after welcoming Charles V's envoy at Falmouth and died at Sherborne on 11 October 1542.
None of Wyatt's poems had been published in his lifetime, with the exception of a few poems in a miscellany
entitled The Court of Venus. His first published work was Certain Psalms (1594), metrical translations of the
penitential psalms. It wasn't until 1557, 15 years after Wyatt's death, that a number of his poetry appeared
27
alongside Surrey's in printer Richard Tottel's Songs and Sonnets written by the Right Honorable Lord Henry
Howard late Earl of Surrey and other. Until modern times it was called simply Songs and Sonnets; but now it
is generally known as Tottel's Miscellany. The rest of Wyatt's poetry, lyrics, and satires remained in
manuscript until the 19th and 20th centuries "rediscovered" them.
Wyatt, along with Surrey, was the first to introduce the sonnet into English, with its characteristic final
rhyming couplet. He wrote extraordinarily accomplished imitations of Petrarch's sonnets, including 'I find no
peace' ('Pace non trovo') and 'Whoso List to Hunt'The latter, quite different in tone from Petrarch's 'Una
candida cerva', has often been seen to refer to Anne Boleyn as the deer with a jewelled collar. Wyatt was also
adept at other new forms in English, such as the terza rima and the rondaeu.
Henry Howard Earl of Surrey (1517−1547) was born in Hunsdon, Hertfordshire, in 1517, as the eldest son
of Thomas Howard, 3rd duke of Norfolk, and Lady Elizabeth Stafford (daughter of the Duke of Buckingham).
Surrey was descended from kings on both sides of his family; he was brought up at Windsor with Henry VIII's
illegitimate son Henry FitzRoy, Duke of Richmond, at Windsor. He was given his title by courtesy in 1524 on
the passing away of his grandfather, Thomas, Earl of Surrey Howard, 2nd Duke of Norfolk, when his father
became 3rd Duke of Norfolk.
In 1532, after marrying Lady Frances de Vere, daughter of the Earl of Oxford, he accompanied his first cousin
Anne Boleyn, the king, and the Duke of Richmond to France, staying there for over a year as a member of the
entourage of Francis I. In 1536 his first son, Thomas, was born, Anne Boleyn was executed, and Henry
FitzRoy, Duke of Richmond, died at age seventeen. Surrey's childhood friend, who was also his
brother−in−law, was buried at one of the Howard homes, Thetford Abbey. Also in 1536, Surrey served with
his father against the Pilgrimage of Grace rebellion which protested against the King's dissolution of the
monasteries.
Surrey, like his father and grandfather, was an able soldier, and the Howards had long been loyal to the crown.
But the Howards' fortunes at court depended on Henry's queens. They were in trouble when Jane Seymour
became queen in 1536, and the Seymours, a rival faction at court, began their scheming in earnest. The
Seymours accused the Howards for secretly sympathizing with the rebels of the Pilgrimage of Grace, and
Surrey was briefly imprisoned on that suspicion.
In the Early 1540s, Surrey was back in favor. He was made Knight of the Garter in 1541. Surrey served in the
war with Scotland in 1542, and in 1543 he fought in Flanders with the English army on the side of Holy
Roman Emperor Charles V, who was seeking to acquire the Netherlands. The following year he was wounded
at the siege of Montreuil; in 1545−1546 he became Commander of the garrison of Boulogne.
When Henry VIII's health was failing in 1546, Surrey made the mistake of announcing his opinion of the
obviousness of his father's becoming Protector to Prince Edward. The Seymour's finally had their day, when
Surrey ill−advisedly displayed royal quarterings on his shield. Arrested with his father on trumped−up charges
of treason, he was imprisoned in the Tower, condemned and executed on January 19, 1547 on Tower Hill.
Surrey continued the practice of the sonnet in English as instituted by Wyatt and established a form for it that
was used by Shakespeare and that has become known as the English sonnet form: three quatrains and a
couplet, rhyming abab cdcd efef gg. Even more significant, he was the first English poet to publish in blank
verseunrhymed iambic pentametera verse form so popular in the succeeding four centuries that it seems
almost indigenous to the language. The work in which he used this "strange meter," as the publisher called it,
was a translation of part of Virgil's Aeneid. Book 4 was published in 1554 and book 2 in 1557.
Surrey's poetry circulated in manuscript form in court circles. He published his Epitaph on Sir Thomas Wyatt,
but most of his poetry first appeared in 1557, ten years after his death, in printer Richard Tottel's Songs and
Sonnets written by the Right Honorable Lord Henry Howard late Earl of Surrey and other. Until modern
28
times it was called simply Songs and Sonnets; but now it is generally known as Tottel's Miscellany. Sir Philip
Sidney appreciated Surrey's lyrics for "many things tasting of a noble birth, and worthy of a noble mind".
Sir Philip Sidney(1554−1586) was born on November 30, 1554, at Penshurst, Kent. He was the eldest son of
Sir Henry Sidney, thrice Lord Deputy (governor) of Ireland, and nephew of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.
He was named after his godfather, Philip II of Spain. He entered Shrewsbury School in 1564, at the age of ten,
on the same day as Fulke Greville, who became his friend and, later, his biographer. After attending Christ
Church, Oxford, (1568−1571) he left without taking a degree in order to complete his education by travelling
the continent. Among the places he visited were Paris, Frankfurt, Venice, and Vienna.
When Sidney returned to England in 1575, he lived the life of a prominent courtier. In 1577, he was sent as
ambassador to the German Emperor and the Prince of Orange. Officially, he had been sent to condole the
princes on the deaths of their fathers. His real mission was to feel out the chances for the creation of a
Protestant league. Yet, the budding diplomatic career was cut short because the Queen found Sidney to be
perhaps too ardent in his Protestantism, the Queen preferring a more cautious approach. Upon his return,
Sidney attended the court of Elizabeth I and actively encouraged such authors as Edward Dyer, Greville, and
most important, the young Edmund Spenser, who dedicated The Shepheardes Calender to him.
In 1580, he incurred the queen's displeasure by opposing her projected marriage to the Duke of Anjou, Roman
Catholic heir to the French throne, and was dismissed from court for a time. He retired to Wilton, the estate of
his beloved sister Mary Herbert, Countess of Pembroke, and there he wrote for her entertainment a long
pastoral romance in prose called Arcadia. At some uncertain date, he composed a major piece of critical prose
that was published after his death under two titles, The Defence of Poesy and An Apology for Poetry. Sidney's
Astrophil and Stella ("Starlover and Star") is the first of the great Elizabethan sonnet cycles, which relied
heavily on the conventions established by Petrarch. Sidney's collection has 108 sonnets and eleven songs.
Yet Sidney was growing restless with lack of appointments. In 1585 he made a covert attempt to join Drake's
expedition to Cadiz. Elizabeth summoned Sidney to court, and appointed him governor of Flushing in the
Netherlands. In 1586 Sidney, along with his younger brother Robert Sidney, took part in a skirmish against
the Spanish at Zutphen, and was wounded of a musket shot that shattered his thigh−bone. Some 22 days later
Sidney died of the unhealed wound at not yet thirty−two years of age. His death occasioned much mourning
in England as the Queen and her subjects grieved for the man who had come to exemplify the ideal courtier. It
is said that Londoners, come out to see the funeral progression, cried out "Farewell, the worthiest knight that
lived."
Edmund Spenser(1552−1599) Born in or near 1552 to a family of small means, Edmund Spenser attended
the Merchant Taylor's School under Richard Mulcaster, and went to Cambridge, about 1569−76, as a sizar of
Pembroke Hall, where he befriended Gabriel Harvey. He took his Bachelor's degree in 1573 and his Master's
in 1576. By 1578 he was serving as secretary to Bishop John Young, in Kent, the landscape of which is
frequently mentioned in The Shepheardes Calender. Entering into employment by the Earl of Leicester the
following year, Spenser became friends with Philip Sidney, Edward Dyer, and Fulke Greville; they formed a
literary group called by Spenser the "Areopagus," and their talents were enlisted in supporting the cause of the
Leicester faction in matters of religion and politics (Heninger xii−xiii).
The Shepheardes Calender appeared at the end of the year, in time to serve as, among other things,
propaganda for the Leicester position on the Queen's proposed marriage with the Duc d'Alencon. The
following year he began work on The Faerie Queene, and entered the employ of Lord Grey of Wilton, Lord
Deputy of Ireland.
In 1581 Spenser was appointed Clerk in Chancery for Faculties, and soon after befriended Sir Walter Ralegh,
whose estate was not far from his own. The year 1589 saw Spenser's return to London, partly to oversee the
publication of the first three books of The Faerie Queene.
29
Soon thereafter the Daphnaida and the Complaints also appeared. After two years Spenser returned to Ireland,
where he courted and married Elizabeth Boyle, and continued to produce a number of works, including the
Amoretti and Epithalamion, Colin Clouts Come Home Againe, Fowre Hymnes, and Prothalamion. An edition
of The Faerie Queene, Books I−VI, appeared in 1596. The Stationers Register carries an entry for A Vewe of
the present state of Irelande in April, 1598, but this did not appear until 1633. A general uprising of the Irish
forced Spenser to flee to London in 1598, where he brought correspondence from Sir Thomas Norris to the
Privy Council; a few weeks later, January 13th, 1599, he died in Westminster and was buried in Westminster
Abbey. The Cantos of Mutabilitie first appeared in the edition of The Faerie Queene of 1609 (MacLean
xv−xvi).
William Shakespeare (
Life and Times of William Shakespeare
Likely the most influential writer in all of English literature and certainly the most important playwright of the
English Renaissance, William Shakespeare was born in 1564 in the town of Stratford−upon−Avon in
Warwickshire, England. The son of a successful middle−class glove−maker, Shakespeare attended grammar
school, but his formal education proceeded no further. In 1582, he married an older woman, Anne Hathaway,
and had three children with her. Around 1590 he left his family behind and traveled to London to work as an
actor and playwright. Public and critical success quickly followed, and Shakespeare eventually became the
most popular playwright in England and part owner of the Globe Theater. His career bridged the reigns of
Elizabeth I (ruled 1558−1603) and James I (ruled 1603−1625); he was a favorite of both monarchs. Indeed,
James granted Shakespeare's company the greatest possible compliment by endowing them with the status of
king's players. Wealthy and renowned, Shakespeare retired to Stratford, and died in 1616 at the age of
fifty−two. At the time of Shakespeare's death, such luminaries as Ben Jonson hailed him as the apogee of
Renaissance theatre.
Shakespeare's works were collected and printed in various editions in the century following his death, and by
the early eighteenth century his reputation as the greatest poet ever to write in English was well established.
The unprecedented admiration garnered by his works led to a fierce curiosity about Shakespeare's life; but the
paucity of surviving biographical information has left many details of Shakespeare's personal history shrouded
in mystery. Some people have concluded from this fact that Shakespeare's plays in reality were written by
someone else−−Francis Bacon and the Earl of Oxford are the two most popular candidates−−but the evidence
for this claim is overwhelmingly circumstantial, and the theory is not taken seriously by many scholars.
In the absence of definitive proof to the contrary, Shakespeare must be viewed as the author of the 37 plays
and 154 sonnets that bear his name. The legacy of this body of work is immense. A number of Shakespeare's
plays seem to have transcended even the category of brilliance, becoming so influential as to affect
profoundly the course of Western literature and culture ever after.
The Sonnets
Shakespeare's sonnets are very different from Shakespeare's plays, but they do contain dramatic elements and
an overall sense of story. Each of the poems deals with a highly personal theme, and each can be taken on its
own or in relation to the poems around it. The sonnets have the feel of autobiographical poems, but we don't
know whether they deal with real events or not, because no one knows enough about Shakespeare's life to say
whether or not they deal with real events and feelings, so we tend to refer to the voice of the sonnets as "the
speaker"−−as though he were a dramatic creation like Hamlet or King Lear.
There are certainly a number of intriguing continuities throughout the poems. The first 126 of the sonnets
seem to be addressed to an unnamed young nobleman, whom the speaker loves very much; the rest of the
poems (except for the last two, which seem generally unconnected to the rest of the sequence) seem to be
30
addressed to a mysterious woman, whom the speaker loves, hates, and lusts for simultaneously. The two
addressees of the sonnets are usually referred to as the "young man" and the "dark lady"; in summaries of
individual poems, I have also called the young man the "beloved" and the dark lady the "lover," especially in
cases where their identity can only be surmised. Within the two mini−sequences, there are a number of other
discernible elements of "plot": the speaker urges the young man to have children; he is forced to endure a
separation from him; he competes with a rival poet for the young man's patronage and affection. At two points
in the sequence, it seems that the young man and the dark lady are actually lovers themselves−−a state of
affairs with which the speaker is none too happy. But while these continuities give the poems a narrative flow
and a helpful frame of reference, they have been frustratingly hard for scholars and biographers to pin down.
In Shakespeare's life, who were the young man and the dark lady?
Historical Mysteries Of all the questions surrounding Shakespeare's life, the sonnets are perhaps the most
intruiguing. At the time of their publication in 1609 (after having been written most likely in the 1590s and
shown only to a small circle of literary admirers), they were dedicated to a "Mr. W.H," who is described as the
"onlie begetter" of the poems. Like those of the young man and the dark lady, the identity of this Mr. W.H.
remains an alluring mystery. Because he is described as "begetting" the sonnets, and because the young man
seems to be the speaker's financial patron, some people have speculated that the young man is Mr. W.H. If his
initials were reversed, he might even be Henry Wriothesley, the Earl of Southampton, who has often been
linked to Shakespeare in theories of his history. But all of this is simply speculation: ultimately, the
circumstances surrounding the sonnets, their cast of characters and their relations to Shakespeare himself, are
destined to remain a mystery.
UNIT 6: THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE II. Elizabethan Drama
University Wits
From the confluence of the religious and humanist traditions, along with a native farce tradition, there
emerged in mid−16th−century England one of the great eras in world drama: the Elizabethan−Jacobean age.
Within the religious tradition, the morality play exercised the greatest influence over later English drama. In
plays such as Everyman (c.1500), abstract qualities came to life and struggled for dominion over the soul of
man. The native farce tradition yielded John Heywood's Johan Johan (1533), a prototypical triangle of
adultery involving a henpecked husband, shrewish wife, and lecherous priest.
The humanist tradition, flourishing in grammar schools, universities, and law schools, at first produced comic
plays in the ancient Roman tradition. One of the first to depend largely on native English elements was
Nicholas Udall's Ralph Roister Doister (c.1533). It was followed some years later by the anonymous Gammer
Gurton's Needle (c.1560), in which a great deal of farcical hubbub surrounds the loss of precisely one needle.
Gorboduc (1561) was the first English tragic drama in blank verse.
A group of educated writers, known as the University Wits, in applying their learning to the professional
theater infused the rough−and−tumble Tudor drama with elements of classical style. The pastoral plays of
John Lyly proved that English could be as balanced, elegant, precise, and supple as Latin. Robert Greene
imported the romantic comedy from Italy while Thomas Kyd, in The Spanish Tragedy (c.1588), brought
Senecan blood and thunder to the public stage, whetting the popular taste for revenge tragedy. The greatest
poet among the University Wits was Christopher Marlowe, who demonstrated the efficacy of blank verse
(unrhymed iambic pentameter) for dramatic expression in English. In Tamburlaine (c.1586), Doctor Faustus
(c.1588), The Jew of Malta (c.1589), and Edward II (c.1592), he created a succession of mighty heroes (or
anti−heroes) who held the stage through their insatiable wills and insistent poetry.
Building upon all these innovations, shuttling between and blending a variety of forms, creating works of
unprecedented subtlety and durability, William Shakespeare−−poet, dramatist, actor, and theater
31
comanager−−achieved a primacy among his peers that eventually became a primacy among dramatists of all
lands and times. His innovations in tragedy, comedy, romance, and history plays have never been surpassed
for daring and accomplishment. His 38 plays embody an uncanny congeries of elements, combined in an
infinitely complex whole: bold formal experimentation; exquisite verbal expression in diverse styles;
unbounded imagination and curiosity; shrewdly observed, enduring characters; the wintry despair of the grave
mingled with a lusty, vital comic sense; and an unparalleled instinct for the stageworthy that allowed his
works to speak to the illiterate and the sophisticate at the same time. His work remains a mine of wonderment
for all who contemplate the drama.
Second only to Shakespeare in Elizabethan comedy, and the most learned dramatist of his day, Ben Jonson
proudly sported his familiarity with classical comedy and satire in scathingly moralistic theatrical attacks on
the avarice and folly of his countrymen. Jonson modified the ancient use of stock characters in his "comedies
of humours" by attributing extravagant character traits (such as a disposition to be sanguine, phlegmatic,
choleric, or melancholic) to an imbalance in the mix of bodily fluids (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black
bile). His Volpone (1606), The Alchemist (1610), and Bartholomew Fair (1614) are among the most
frequently revived 17th−century plays. Jonson was also the chief writer of Jacobean court masques.
A remarkable vigor and originality characterized even the lesser dramatists of the day. Thomas Dekker's The
Shoemaker's Holiday (1600) is a pleasant comedy of the artisan class. John Marston's The Malcontent (1604)
seethes with the lasciviousness and intrigue typical of the Jacobean era (1603−25). Following Marston's lead
came such bold expositions of lust, corruption, treachery, and murder as Cyril Tourneur's The Revenger's
Tragedy (c.1606), John Webster's The White Devil (c.1610) and The Duchess of Malfi (c.1613), and Thomas
Middleton and William Rowley's The Changeling (c.1622). Not all Jacobean drama was so bitter: the most
popular playwrights after the death of Shakespeare were the sometime collaborators Francis Beaumont and
John Fletcher, who specialized in the more sedate form of romantic tragicomedy. In the Caroline era
(1625−42), however, the most important play was John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore (c.1630), in which the
only sympathetic characters are a brother and sister involved in an incestuous affair.
The Puritans naturally opposed the decadence they perceived on the stages of London, and when they came to
power in 1642 they immediately closed down all the theaters.
UNIT 7: THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE III. Shakespeare
The Life of William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare's father, John Shakespeare, moved to the idyllic town of Stratford−upon−Avon in the
mid−sixteenth century, where he became a successful landowner, moneylender, wool and agricultural goods
dealer, and glover. In 1557 he married Mary Arden . John Shakespeare lived during a time when the middle
class grew and became wealthier and wealthier, thus allowing its members increasing freedoms, luxuries, and
voice in the local government. He took advantage of the opportunities afforded him through this social growth
and in 1557 became a member of the Stratford Council, an event which marked the beginning of an illustrious
political career. By 1561 he was elected one of the town's fourteen burgesses, where he served as constable,
one of two chamberlains, and alderman successively. In these positions he administered borough property and
revenues. In 1567 he was made bailiff, the highest elected office in Stratford, and the equivalent of a modern
day mayor.
The town records indicate that William Shakespeare was John and Mary's third child. His birth is
unregistered, but legend places it on April 23, 1564, partially because April 23 is the day on which he died 52
years later. In any event, his baptism was registered with the town on April 26, 1564. Not much is known
about William's childhood, although it is safe to assume that he attended the local grammar school, the King's
New School, which was staffed with a faculty who held Oxford degrees, and whose curriculum included
mathematics, natural sciences, Latin language and rhetoric, logic, Christian ethics, and classical literature. He
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did not attend the university, which was not unusual at this time, since university education was reserved for
prospective clergymen and was not a particularly mind−opening experience. However, the education he
received at grammar school was excellent, as evidenced by the numerous classical and literary references in
his plays. His early works especially drew on such Greek and Roman greats as Seneca and Plautus. What is
more impressive than his formal education, however, is the wealth of general knowledge exhibited in his
works, from a working knowledge of many professions to a vocabulary that is far greater than any other
English writer.
In 1582, at the age of eighteen, William Shakespeare married the twenty−six year old Anne Hathaway. Their
first daughter, Susanna, was baptized only six months later, which has given rise to much speculation
concerning the circumstances surrounding the marriage. In 1585, twins were born to the couple, and baptized
Hamnet and Judith Shakespeare. Hamnet died at the young age of eleven by which time Shakespeare was
already a successful playwright. Around 1589 Shakespeare wrote his first play, Henry VI, Part 1. Sometime
between his marriage and writing this play he and his wife moved to London, where he pursued a career as a
playwright and actor.
Although we have many records of his life as a citizen of Stratford, including marriage and birth certificates,
very little information exists about his life as a young playwright. Legend characterizes Shakespeare as a
roguish young scrapper who was once forced to flee London under sketchy circumstances. However, the little
written information we have of his early years does not confirm this. Young Will was not an immediate and
universal success; the earliest written record of Shakespeare's life in London comes from a statement by rival
playwright Robert Greene, who calls Shakespeare an "upstart crow . . . [who] supposes he is as well able to
bombast out a blank verse as the best of you:" − hardly high praise.
In 1594 Shakespeare became a charter member of The Lord Chamberlain's Men, a group of actors who later
changed their name to The King's Men when they gained the sponsorship of King James I. By 1598 he was
"principal comedian" for the troupe, and by 1603 he was "principal tragedian." Acting and writing plays at
this time were not considered noble professions, but successful and prosperous actors were relatively
well−respected. Shakespeare was very successful and made quite a bit of money. He invested this money in
Stratford real estate and was able to purchase the second largest house in Stratford, the New Place, for his
parents in 1597. In 1596 Shakespeare applied for a coat of arms for his family, in effect making himself into a
gentleman, and his daughters married successfully and wealthily.
William Shakespeare lived until 1616 while his wife Anna died in 1623 at the age of sixty−seven. He was
buried in the chancel of his church at Stratford.The lines above his tomb (allegedly written by Shakespeare
himself) read:
Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear
To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blessed be the man that spares these stones
And cursed be he that moves my bones.
About Shakespearean Theater:
Before Shakespeare¹s time and during his boyhood, troupes of actors performed wherever they could - in
halls, courts, courtyards, and any other open spaces available. However, in 1574, when Shakespeare was ten
years old, the Common Council passed a law requiring plays and theaters in London to be licensed. In 1576,
actor and future Lord Chamberlain's Man, James Burbage, built the first permanent theater, called "The
Theatre", outside London city walls. After this many more theaters were established, including the Globe
Theatre, which was where most of Shakespeare's plays premiered.
Elizabethan theaters were generally built after the design of the original Theatre. Built of wood, these theaters
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comprised three tiers of seats in a circular shape, with a stage area on one side of the circle. The audience's
seats and part of the stage were roofed, but much of the main stage and the area in front of the stage in the
center of the circle were open to the elements. About 1,500 audience members could pay extra money to sit in
the covered seating areas, while about 800 "groundlings" paid less money to stand in this open area before the
stage. The stage itself was divided into three levels: a main stage area with doors at the rear and a curtained
area in the back for "discovery scenes"; an upper, canopied area called "heaven" for balcony scenes; and an
area under the stage called "hell," accessed by a trap door in the stage. There were dressing rooms located
behind the stage, but no curtain in the front of the stage, which meant that scenes had to flow into each other,
and "dead bodies" had to be dragged off.
Performances took place during the day, using natural light from the open center of the theater. Since there
could be no dramatic lighting and there was very little scenery or props, audiences relied on the actors' lines
and stage directions to supply the time of day and year, the weather, location, and mood of the scenes.
Shakespeare's plays masterfully supply this information . For example, in Hamlet the audience learns within
the first twenty lines of dialogue where the scene takes place ("Have you had quiet guard?"), what time of day
it is ("'Tis now strook twelf"), what the weather is like ("'Tis bitter cold"), and what mood the characters are in
("and I am sick at heart").
One important difference between plays written in Shakespeare's time and those written today is that
Elizabethan plays were published after their performances, sometimes even after their authors' deaths, and
were in many ways a record of what happened on stage during these performances rather than directions for
what should happen. Actors were allowed to suggest changes to scenes and dialogue and had much more
freedom with their parts than actors today. Shakespeare's plays are no exception. In Hamlet, for instance,
much of the plot revolves around the fact that Hamlet writes his own scene to be added to a play in order to
ensnare his murderous father.
Shakespeare's plays were published in various forms and with a wide variety of accuracy during his time. The
discrepancies between versions of his plays from one publication to the next make it difficult for editors to put
together authoritative editions of his works. Plays could be published in large anthologies called Folios (the
First Folio of Shakespeare's plays contains 36 plays) or smaller Quartos. Folios were so named because of the
way their paper was folded in half to make chunks of two pages each which were sewn together to make a
large volume. Quartos were smaller, cheaper books containing only one play. Their paper was folded twice,
making four pages. In general, the First Folio is of better quality than the quartos. Therefore, plays that are
printed in the First Folio are much easier for editors to compile.
Although Shakespeare's language and classical references seem archaic to some modern readers, they were
commonplace to his audiences. His viewers came from all classes, and his plays appealed to all kinds of
sensibilities, from "highbrow" accounts of kings and queens of old to the "lowbrow" blunderings of clowns
and servants. Even his most tragic plays include clown characters for comic relief and to comment on the
events of the play. Audiences would have been familiar with his numerous references to classical mythology
and literature, since these stories were staples of the Elizabethan knowledge base. While Shakespeare¹s plays
appealed to all levels of society and included familiar story lines and themes, they also expanded his
audiences' vocabularies. Many phrases and words that we use today, like "amazement," "in my mind's eye,"
and "the milk of human kindness" were coined by Shakespeare. His plays contain a greater variety and
number of words than almost any other work in the English language, showing that he was quick to innovate,
had a huge vocabulary, and was interested in using new phrases and words.
Historical Background of King Lear:
The story of King Lear and his three daughters existed in some form up to four centuries before Shakespeare
recorded his vision. Lear was a British King who reigned before the birth of Christ, allowing Shakespeare to
place his play in a Pagan setting. Predated by references in British mythology to Lyr or Ler, Geoffrey of
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Monmouth recorded a story of King Lear and his daughters in his Historia Regum Britanniae of 1137. Dozens
of versions of the play were then written up, highlighting certain events, such as the love test, or expanding
upon the story, such as creating a sequel where Cordelia committed suicide. Most of these versions had a
happy ending, though untrue to the story, where peace was restored under the reign of Lear and Cordelia.
Shakespeare however had no interest in writing a tragicomedy.
The main version that Shakespeare had likely read and from which he had definitely borrowed was The True
Chronicle History of King Leir and his Three Daughters. He also borrowed from Raphael Holinshed's
Chronicle of England, Scotland, and Ireland (who adopted the story from Monmouth), Edmund Spencer's The
Faerie Queene, Sir Philip Sidney's The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia (from which Shakespeare drew his
subplot), and John Higgins' A Mirror For Magistrates. He stole pieces and ideas from these versions to create
the type of story he wanted to tell. For instance, The True Chronicle provides the basis of the story, though
sentimentalizing it by ignoring the sequel. "Leir" is betrayed by two of his daughters but is reconciled to his
youngest at the end. "Cordella" is accompanied by a Fool−type character who is loyal to her and Leir is
reseated on the throne after beating Gonerill and Regan's armies. Moreover, Shakespeare left out main
components of the earlier stories of Lear and created wholly new ones as well. Most considerable of the
changes was the creation of a subplot and Lear's descent to madness.
In Shakespeare's time, numerous events, historical considerations, relationships, and cultural trends influenced
his writing of King Lear. Scholars tend to believe that the play was written after Othello and before Macbeth,
thus assigning it to 1604−1605. Further proof of this comes from the apparent influence the 1603 texts, A
Declaration of Egregious Popishe Impostures, by Samuel Harsnett, and John Florio's translation of
Montaigne's Essays, had on Shakespeare's conglomeration of the story. Critics have noted that more than one
hundred words found in King Lear which Shakespeare had never before used can be found in Florio's
translation. In addition, Montaigne's famous essay, "Apology for Raymond Sebonde," apparently refers to the
same major themes which Shakespeare's King Lear presents. He also borrowed from a very convenient
contemporary true story of a gentleman pensioner of Queen Elizabeth, Sir Brian Annesley, whose daughters
tried to get him declared insane in late 1603 so that they could legally take control of his estate.The youngest
daughter, named Cordell, intervened on his behalf.
As Shakespeare's players were the king's men, he knew they would have to perform for King James I and his
court. Subsequently, Shakespeare imbued his plays with certain aspects that would appeal to James. For
instance, the dangers of a divided kingdom was often the topic of James' speeches because of his wish to unite
Scotland with England. Further topics from the time which Shakespeare took into account were the honor and
wisdom endowed to the elderly as opposed to the rash ambition of the young as well as the ritualistic
reverence showed to royalty. Shakespeare himself had moved into his period of writing tragedies as he felt
they were more respected by critics although audiences generally preferred comedies. After his publication of
Julius Caesar, he was looked at as the greatest tragedian since Sophocles and was at the zenith of his literary
capacity. The play was first performed for the King in December of 1605. It was first published in a quarto in
1608 and titled M William Shak−speare His Historie, of King Lear. A completely revised version was
reprinted by Shakespeare in a 1623 First Folio edition, now referred to as The Tragedy of King Lear. The two
versions were conflated in the eighteenth century until editors realized how significantly different the two
were and now each edition and the conflated text can be found.
Short Summary:
Act I:
The Earls Kent and Gloucester discuss the division of King Lear's kingdom. Lear has divided the kingdom
into three parts, allotting the largest to Cordelia, his most favored of the three daughters. Lear first addresses
his two eldest daughters, asking them to express their love for him before they and their husbands will receive
the land he has allotted for them. It is a selfish request and Goneril, the eldest, responds readily. Regan
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answers his request next, attempting to outdo her sister, and thus says that she has given all of her love to
Lear. Cordelia finds her sisters extremely boorish in their exaggerated and completely insincere flattery and
refuses to participate. Upon her turn, she tells Lear that she loves him as her duty as a daughter requires but no
more, as she will save some of her love for her soon to be husband. Lear becomes extremely angry but
Cordelia still refuses to stoop to the level of her sisters. As a result, Lear strips Cordelia of her inheritance and
her title. Kent steps in to support Cordelia's behavior but Lear will hear none of it. Insulted by Kent's
opposition, Lear banishes him from the kingdom. The suitors then learn of Cordelia's position. Burgundy
cannot accept her as a mate without the promised entitlements but France finds her more endearing in her
sincerity and makes her his wife, Queen of France. Goneril and Regan plot to take all of Lear's power out of
his hands quickly.
Edmund, Gloucester's bastard son, vows to steal the land and legitimacy of his half brother Edgar by
manipulating both father and brother against each other. His father sees him hiding a letter he is carrying and
forces him to show it. It is a fabricated letter from Edgar asking for Edmund's help in overturning their father.
Gloucester is enraged but Edmund tells him to not jump to conclusions until he can arrange a meeting
between himself and Edgar. Edmund then finds Edgar and alerts him to Gloucester's anger, suggesting he flee
to Edmund's house and stay armed.
Lear resides with Goneril, who plans to drive him out of her residence and to her sister's by pretending that his
knights and servants are creating havoc. She orders her servants to treat Lear coldly. Kent returns disguised
and becomes Lear's servant, Caius. Lear is outraged at Goneril's charges and the coldness against him and his
train. He curses Goneril and her unborn children before leaving for Regan's home. Albany reproaches Goneril
for her treatment of Lear. Goneril sends her servant, Oswald, to warn her sister.
Act II:
Edmund hears from a courier that there are rumors of conflict between Albany and Cornwall. He uses this
idea when he encounters Edgar, informing him that he has offended both parties and is in danger. Upon
hearing Gloucester, Edmund has Edgar draw his sword and then run off. Edmund wounds himself and
pretends it was received in his duel with Edgar because Edgar had wished to kill Gloucester. Gloucester sends
men out to capture Edgar and promises Edmund the land to which he has never been privileged. Regan and
Cornwall, who have traveled to Gloucester's castle to escape Lear's arrival, hear of Edgar's betrayal and place
their trust with Edmund.
Oswald and Kent meet at Gloucester's castle, both delivering messages. Kent insults him for his previous
treatment of Lear and begins to strike him. The noise brings Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, and Edmund.
Cornwall and Regan place Kent in the stocks as punishment. Lear arrives to find him there but cannot believe
his own daughter and son−in−law were responsible. His Fool continuously ridicules his choices: chastising
Cordelia, trusting his other daughters, and giving up his authority. Lear sends Gloucester for Regan and
Cornwall but they refuse to see Lear until he threatens to wake them himself. They feign happiness in seeing
him. Lear entreats Regan to feel sympathy for him because of Goneril's treatment of him but Regan instead
says he should return to her for the intended month and apologize.
As Goneril arrives, he finally asks who put Kent in the stocks. Cornwall admits to it. Goneril and Regan unite
to oppose Lear, claiming that he does not need one hundred knights and servants. When Regan proclaims that
he could only have twenty−five with her, he wishes to return to Goneril whose previous promise of fifty must
mean she loves him more. The two sisters then lower the size of a train they will allow to ten, then five, and
then none. Lear is outraged and wishes to be with neither daughter, escaping out into the woods. Gloucester
pleads with them to allow Lear back inside as a storm is approaching, but they refuse.
Act III:
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Kent encounters one of Lear's train and sends him to Dover with his purse and a ring to show Cordelia if he
sees her. He is to fill her and the others in as to Lear's condition and treatment. Lear is quickly becoming one
with the storm as he approaches madness, though he reasons that the heavens owe him less than his daughters
did. He rages on and on about betrayal and filial ingratitude. Lear admits that he has sinned but recognizes too
that he was even more sinned against. Kent tries to get Lear inside a hovel for shelter. The Fool prophecies
that when men are honest and sincere, England will fall apart. Lear sends the Fool into the hovel first but he
comes out screaming when he meets Edgar disguised as the beggar, poor Tom of Bedlam. Tom's babble
illustrates his demonic madness and Lear believes that he must have suffered from ungrateful daughters. Tom
tells his history as a servingman given over to lust, bringing Lear to question the make up of man. Lear
himself approaches unaccommodated, essential man. He attempts to strip off his clothes but the Fool stops
him.
Gloucester confides in Edmund that he has received a letter with news of a movement to avenge the King. He
tells him to remain silent on the issue. Gloucester then goes to find Lear, unable to follow the orders of Regan
and Goneril, and hopes to take Lear to shelter. Lear would rather stay to talk with Tom, the "philosopher".
Kent suggests that Tom accompany Lear to shelter and they move to it. The Fool, Lear, and Tom muse over
the definition of a madman. Lear decides to hold a mock trial for Regan and Goneril and indict them for their
offenses, placing the Fool and Tom as the judges. Lear has lost his wits. Gloucester returns with news of
Regan and Goneril's plot against Lear's life. He has secured transportation for him and sends him off to Dover.
Edgar remains.
Edmund eagerly uses Gloucester's confidence to forward his means by divulging it to Cornwall. He pretends
to be sad that he is betraying his father. Cornwall makes him the new Earl of Gloucester, accepts him as a son,
and calls for a search for Gloucester. He then sends Goneril and Edmund to Albany so that Edmund will not
be present for his father's punishment. Regan and Goneril call for Gloucester to be hanged or blinded.
Gloucester is brought to Regan and Cornwall, who tie him up. Gloucester is shocked by the rudeness of his
guests. Once they tell him they have his letter, he admits that he has sent Lear to Dover because of the horrible
cruelty of his daughters. Cornwall blinds one of Gloucester's eyes. A servant interjects angrily, wounding
Cornwall, and Regan slays him. Cornwall then blinds the other eye as well and Regan notifies Gloucester that
Edmund was the one who informed against him. Gloucester realizes that he has wronged Edgar. He is turned
out into the storm, aided by a few loyal servants.
Act IV:
Gloucester is led by an old man though he wishes to be left alone. He prays to be able to see his son Edgar
again. When they come upon poor Tom, Gloucester chooses to allow Tom to lead him because the time had
come where madmen were leading the blind. Gloucester asks to be taken to a high cliff in Dover where he can
commit suicide. He gives Tom his purse in an effort to better balance the economic inequality of the world.
When they reach Dover, Edgar tricks his father into thinking his has climbed the steep hill. Thus when he tries
to fall of the cliff, he merely falls flat. Before he falls, he blesses Edgar. Edgar runs back to him, pretending to
be another stranger, and tells him that it was a miracle that he fell and did not die. He explains that a spirit left
him at the summit, insinuating that poor Tom was a spirit and Gloucester believes him, though depressed that
he is not even allowed death.
Goneril and Edmund are greeted by Oswald who alerts them to Albany's reverse in attitude. He is pleased by
the invasion of France and displeased by Edmund. Goneril sends Edmund back to Cornwall, with a vow to
unite as mates and rulers. She finds her husband enraged against her for the treatment he has heard she and
Regan bore against Lear. He would tear her apart if she were not a woman. He then learns that Gloucester has
been blinded and that Cornwall died from a wound caused by the servant defending him. Goneril feels torn
about Cornwall's death. Albany learns that Edmund informed against Gloucester and he promises to avenge
Gloucester's blindness. Regan is then greeted by Oswald. She remarks that they should have killed Gloucester
as his situation arouses too much sympathy. Edmund is supposed to be looking for him. She is worried that
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Edmund and her sister are planning to become intimate and she warns Oswald to remind Edmund of the
promises he has made to her.
Kent meets the gentleman he sent ahead to Dover and learns that the King of France has had to return, though
Cordelia and others remain. He asks how Cordelia received his message and is told that she was a mixture of
smiles and tears. Lear has not yet been reconciled to Cordelia because he is too ashamed to face her. She
worries that he has gone completely mad but the doctor assures her that rest should help. Lear stumbles upon
Gloucester and Edgar, rambling about the manipulation of his daughters and the evil nature of women. He
recognizes Gloucester's voice and mentions, ignorant of Edmund's betrayal, how his adulterous ways have
been more fortunate than Lear's legitimate ones. Lear tells him that blindness should in fact help him to see
and that pretense is the largest flaw of most in authority. Cordelia's gentlemen find Lear and try to bring him
to her but he thinks he is being captured and runs away.
Oswald tracks Gloucester down and hopes to kill him. Edgar intercedes. They fight and Oswald falls. He tells
Edgar to give the letter he was carrying to Edmund. Edgar is infuriated to find that the letter is from Goneril
and is in reference to her wish to kill Albany and marry Edmund. Lear has been found and given a sleeping
drug by Cordelia's doctor. Cordelia thanks Kent for all of his support and goodwill toward the King. She
bemoans the the horrific treatment her sisters have shown him. Lear is brought into them, barely awake and
does not recognize them. Finally he understands that he is with Cordelia but is still very confused.
Act V:
Regan questions Edmund as to his relationship with Goneril. He promises that he is not intimately involved
with her. Goneril notes that she would rather lose to France than to her sister for Edmund's hand. Goneril and
Albany discuss the importance of being united with Regan to face France. Edgar, still disguised, finds Albany
and passes on the letter from Goneril. Edgar tells him to call by herald if he is needed again. Edmund
soliloquizes on the question of which sister to choose and decides to takes Goneril if she manages to kill
Albany. He is most concerned with ruling a reunited Britain.
The battle begins. Cordelia and Lear lead one army. Edgar leaves Gloucester safely while he fights on their
side. Edgar returns after the quick off stage war with the news that Lear and Cordelia have been taken
prisoner. Edmund is in charge of them and has them sent away to prison. Cordelia tries to be strong and Lear
hopes the time will be one where they can catch up and talk about life. Edmund hands a death note to a
captain of his to carry out. Albany praises Edmund for his acts of battle but reminds him he is a subordinate.
Edmund lies, saying that Cordelia and Lear are merely being retained. Regan declares that as her new partner
Edmund is an equal, which incites Goneril's jealousy. Albany responds with a claim of treason and challenges
Edmund to a duel. Ill, Regan is escorted out. The herald sounds the trumpet three times and a disguised Edgar
appears to fight Edmund. Edmund falls but Albany spares him until he can incriminate him. Albany quiets
Goneril with the her letter though she maintains she is above any law as she is the ruler of it. She flees his
anger. Edmund admits his guilt and Edgar reveals himself. In response to Albany's questioning, Edgar
explains how he had been disguised as a beggar and that he has led and cared for Gloucester until his death.
He died, overwhelmed by happiness and sadness, shortly after Edgar revealed his identity to him. Edgar was
then met by Kent who also told of his disguise, Lear's state, and his own coming death.
A gentleman brings in the knife Goneril used to kill herself after admitting that she poisoned Regan. The
bodies are called for. Kent comes hoping to bid Lear goodbye which reminds Albany to ask about Lear and
Cordelia's condition. Edmund informs them that he and Goneril had ordered Cordelia hanged so that it would
look like a suicide. A servant tries to stop it but Lear enters with Cordelia's body. He had killed the man who
hanged her but she does not live. Lear is inconsolable. Kent tries to say goodbye to him but Lear barely
recognizes him and likely does not understand that he has been undercover as his servant Caius all along.
They are told Edmund is dead. Albany gives Lear back absolute rule and Kent and Edgar their rights. Still
swooning for Cordelia, Lear dies. Albany then gives Kent and Edgar shared rule but Kent notes he will soon
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follow Lear, thus leaving Edgar as the next King.
UNIT 8: THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE VI. Jacobean and Caroline Drama
General characteristics of the Jacobean and Caroline Drama; the central position of Jonson.
THE ELIZABETHAN drama, undoubtedly, followed a natural law of development. It culminated in tragedy
in the first decade of the seventeenth century, because men and women reveal themselves most fully and
finally in the furnace of affliction; and, therefore, the dramatist who desires to express the truth of human
nature arrives, sooner or later, at tragedy as his most penetrating and powerful method. After the height has
been reached a necessary rest and suspension of effort ensue, and of such a nature was the Jacobean and
Caroline age of the drama. But a second cause was at work to increase this exhaustion and to hasten the
decadence of an art that had lost its freshness. The tension of feeling as to things political and religious, which
led, at last, to the civil war, was unfavourable to all artistic effort, but was especially hurtful to the drama. It
took possession of the minds of all but the most frivolous. Theatre−goers ceased to be drawn from all ranks,
as they were in Elizabeth's days and began to form a special class composed of careless courtiers and the
dregs of the town populace. Such a class required only lesser dramatists to supply its wants; and, as we
approach the date of the closing of the theatres (1642), the greater lights go out one by one till only a crowd of
little men are left, writing a drama which has neither form nor spirit remaining in it.
The accident of the survival of Henslowe's diary helped us to group together in some kind of natural order the
more active of the lesser Elizabethan dramatists. We have no document of this sort to aid us in the case of the
Jacobean and Caroline writers; but we are confronted by a remarkable personality whose relations with the
dramatists and poets of his age were as honourable and unselfish as Henslowe's were mercenary and mean. A
young dramatist, writing to Henslowe for a loan, signs himself, in Elizabethan fashion, your loving son. It was
a slight extension of this usage which made Jonson the literary father of a large family of sons, all proud to be
sealed of the tribe of Ben. His position as the leader of literary and dramatic taste and the centre of literary
society in London was a new thing in English life, and his influence was so commanding and complete that
most of the lesser dramatists stood in some sort of relation to him, either of attraction or repulsion: they were
either friends or foes. It may also be conjectured that Jonson's art lent itself to imitation by lesser men more
readily than Shakespeare's. Shakespeare's apparent artlessness covered a far more subtle method and mystery
than did Jonson's strict canons of conformity to definite theories of dramatic composition. Secondly, Jonson's
theory of humours simplified human nature and enabled the lesser dramatist, in setting about the composition
of a comedy, to choose his basic humour, and get to work on inimitable humanity with some confidence. And,
thirdly, while Jonson's massive common sense and satiric intensity are, in bulk, colossal, they can be readily
imitated by lesser men who manufacture smaller pieces of the same stuff. Jonson's most remarkable plays
were quarries from which contemporary writers chose what suited them, diligently working it into some sort
of artistic shape. For these reasons Jonson occupies an exceptional relation towards the literature of the
Jacobean age, and may be regarded as a centre round which the lesser dramatists are grouped. He fails us only
when we deal with romantic tragicomedy, in which species Fletcher and Massinger are the dominating
influences. But the lesser writers of romantic drama are so weak that we shall have no space for detailed
examination of their work.
The Elizabethan−Jacobean age
From the confluence of the religious and humanist traditions, along with a native farce tradition, there
emerged in mid−16th−century England one of the great eras in world drama: the Elizabethan−Jacobean age.
Within the religious tradition, the morality play exercised the greatest influence over later English drama. In
plays such as Everyman (c.1500), abstract qualities came to life and struggled for dominion over the soul of
man. The native farce tradition yielded John Heywood's Johan Johan (1533), a prototypical triangle of
adultery involving a henpecked husband, shrewish wife, and lecherous priest.
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The humanist tradition, flourishing in grammar schools, universities, and law schools, at first produced comic
plays in the ancient Roman tradition. One of the first to depend largely on native English elements was
Nicholas Udall's Ralph Roister Doister (c.1533). It was followed some years later by the anonymous Gammer
Gurton's Needle (c.1560), in which a great deal of farcical hubbub surrounds the loss of precisely one needle.
Gorboduc (1561) was the first English tragic drama in blank verse.
A group of educated writers, known as the University Wits, in applying their learning to the professional
theater infused the rough−and−tumble Tudor drama with elements of classical style. The pastoral plays of
John Lyly proved that English could be as balanced, elegant, precise, and supple as Latin. Robert Greene
imported the romantic comedy from Italy while Thomas Kyd, in The Spanish Tragedy (c.1588), brought
Senecan blood and thunder to the public stage, whetting the popular taste for revenge tragedy. The greatest
poet among the University Wits was Christopher Marlowe, who demonstrated the efficacy of blank verse
(unrhymed iambic pentameter) for dramatic expression in English. In Tamburlaine (c.1586), Doctor Faustus
(c.1588), The Jew of Malta (c.1589), and Edward II (c.1592), he created a succession of mighty heroes (or
anti−heroes) who held the stage through their insatiable wills and insistent poetry.
Building upon all these innovations, shuttling between and blending a variety of forms, creating works of
unprecedented subtlety and durability, William Shakespeare−−poet, dramatist, actor, and theater
comanager−−achieved a primacy among his peers that eventually became a primacy among dramatists of all
lands and times. His innovations in tragedy, comedy, romance, and history plays have never been surpassed
for daring and accomplishment. His 38 plays embody an uncanny congeries of elements, combined in an
infinitely complex whole: bold formal experimentation; exquisite verbal expression in diverse styles;
unbounded imagination and curiosity; shrewdly observed, enduring characters; the wintry despair of the grave
mingled with a lusty, vital comic sense; and an unparalleled instinct for the stageworthy that allowed his
works to speak to the illiterate and the sophisticate at the same time. His work remains a mine of wonderment
for all who contemplate the drama.
Second only to Shakespeare in Elizabethan comedy, and the most learned dramatist of his day, Ben Jonson
proudly sported his familiarity with classical comedy and satire in scathingly moralistic theatrical attacks on
the avarice and folly of his countrymen. Jonson modified the ancient use of stock characters in his "comedies
of humours" by attributing extravagant character traits (such as a disposition to be sanguine, phlegmatic,
choleric, or melancholic) to an imbalance in the mix of bodily fluids (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black
bile). His Volpone (1606), The Alchemist (1610), and Bartholomew Fair (1614) are among the most
frequently revived 17th−century plays. Jonson was also the chief writer of Jacobean court masques.
A remarkable vigor and originality characterized even the lesser dramatists of the day. Thomas Dekker's The
Shoemaker's Holiday (1600) is a pleasant comedy of the artisan class. John Marston's The Malcontent (1604)
seethes with the lasciviousness and intrigue typical of the Jacobean era (1603−25). Following Marston's lead
came such bold expositions of lust, corruption, treachery, and murder as Cyril Tourneur's The Revenger's
Tragedy (c.1606), John Webster's The White Devil (c.1610) and The Duchess of Malfi (c.1613), and Thomas
Middleton and William Rowley's The Changeling (c.1622). Not all Jacobean drama was so bitter: the most
popular playwrights after the death of Shakespeare were the sometime collaborators Francis Beaumont and
John Fletcher, who specialized in the more sedate form of romantic tragicomedy. In the Caroline era
(1625−42), however, the most important play was John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore (c.1630), in which the
only sympathetic characters are a brother and sister involved in an incestuous affair.
The Puritans naturally opposed the decadence they perceived on the stages of London, and when they came to
power in 1642 they immediately closed down all the theaters.
COURT COMEDIES AND MASQUES
THERE were two groups of plays in the sixteenth century which belonged neither to the democratic, popular
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class, nor to the pseudo−classical species fostered by the academic circles. One of these was the court
comedy, designed especially as a compliment to the queen; the other was the masque, in which the aristocracy
and royalty itself took part as actors. The court comedy was in a sense a variation, or a specialization, of the
pastoral, brought into England from Italy chiefly by John Lyly, the author of Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit,
and Euphues, His England. Lyly produced a series of court comedies in which allegorical and classical stories
were made to veil complimentary allusions to the queen and her court. There are eight plays which most
scholars accept as authentic, six of which were first played by the Children of the Chapel Royal. Four of them
are based on classic subjects, with the allegory so contrived as to constitute one colossal hymn of adulation to
the queen. Elizabeth had already become the "Virgin Queen" to her subjects, and she had been styled Cynthia
by Spenser. Lyly used the fable of Endymion as the vehicle for one of his early panegyrics. The sleeping
Endymion was Leicester, the queen's favorite. Out of pity, charity, and queenly goodness she rouses him from
his entranced slumber with a kiss. Never before have her lips been touched, nor would they ever again be
soiled by such condescension. Throughout the play the queen is gracious, charming, and always queenly.
Other characters in the allegory could easily be identified by the coterie of spectators, and not all of the
dramatis personae were pictured with as kind a pen as that which had drawn the lovely Cynthia. The
adulation is unmistakable, though never vulgar. The play has little plot, but is imbued with high spirits,
delicacy of taste, and graceful poetry. Hazlitt and Keats both praised Endimion extravagantly.
The successful Endimion was followed by similar plays, and the figure of Lyly seemed for a time to dominate
English drama. All but one of his comedies are in prose. They show no suspicion of struggle or passion, but
they are imbued with an atmosphere of sunshine and classical purity. It was Lyly who popularized a peculiar
type of gay but innocent dialogue, used the device of putting his play into a dream setting, made the disguise
of girls as boys an amusing and harmless feature, and still proved that such spiceless diversions could stand
the test of public performance. All these devices are familiar to us in the work of Shakespeare, Fletcher, and
Ben Jonson. Lyly's importance lies in the fact that he practically created the English court comedy −− a type
which has no exact parallel in any other language.
THE COURT MASQUE
One of the most spectacular entertainments of the nobility was the masque, introduced into England from Italy
by Henry VIII as early as 1512. The first requisite for the masque was a pleasant and entertaining story in
verse, preferably with mythological or allegorical characters. There was of course some dialogue and
declamation, but these matters were relatively unimportant. Far more significant were the tableaux, music, the
ballet, the elaborate settings, the gorgeous costumes and scenery, stage appliances, and surprises in
mechanical effects. The actors were members of the aristocracy, sometimes of the royal family. They wore
masks, spent huge sums upon their costumes, and lent their halls and treasures of art to enrich the scenes.
Little else was required of them, as actors, but to look beautiful and stately. The success of the masque
depended upon the architect, the scene painter, decorator, and ballet master. In the course of time considerable
importance was given also to singing and instrumental music.
The cost of these accessories was too great to permit masque production in the public theaters, even supposing
they had been acceptable to the taste of the populace; and during the reigns of Henry VIII and Elizabeth, royal
ideas of economy forbade the lavish display which had characterized the masque in Italy. With the accession
of the Stuarts, however, this form of theatrical display took on a new importance. James I and his son Charles
were willing to spend a good deal of the country's money upon them. Among the poets engaged to write
masque librettos were Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, and most of the other talented writers of the day. Ben
Jonson was first of all, not only in point of time but in genius. He became poet laureate, and devoted his
amazing learning, his theatrical sense, and his gift for charming lyrics to the work of perfecting the masque.
With him, as manager and stage director, worked the artist, Inigo Jones; also a director of chorus, a dance
master, and a composer for instruments. The court musicians numbered as many as fifty−eight persons, and
neither time nor expense was spared in their training. Not only the court, but noblemen wishing to compliment
royalty, arranged for these entertainments. The courts of the Inner Temple, Gray's Inn, and such societies, vied
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with each other in the lavishness of their productions. The king and queen, each, provided a masque at
Christmas. There remain more than thirty examples of this sort of play written during the reign of James I and
Charles I. In 1634 there was given at Whitehall, in the royal banquet room, by the members of the various
Inns of Court, a masque called The Triumph of Peace, designed by Inigo Jones and written by Shirley, for
which the cost amounted to more than one hundred thousand dollars. This was but fourteen years before the
tragic end of Charles and the abolition of such extravagant gaieties
Ben Jonson (1572− 1637)
Ben Jonson was born around June 11, 1572, the posthumous son of a clergyman. He was educated at
Westminster School by the great classical scholar William Camden and worked in his stepfather's trade,
bricklaying. The trade did not please him in the least, and he joined the army, serving in Flanders. He returned
to England about 1592 and married Anne Lewis on November 14, 1594.
Jonson joined the theatrical company of Philip Henslowe in London as an actor and playwright on or before
1597, when he is identified in the papers of Henslowe. In 1597 he was imprisoned for his involvement in a
satire entitled The Isle of Dogs, declared seditious by the authorities. The following year Jonson killed a
fellow actor, Gabriel Spencer, in a duel in the Fields at Shoreditch and was tried at Old Bailey for murder. He
escaped the gallows only by pleading benefit of clergy. During his subsequent imprisonment he converted to
Roman Catholicism only to convert back to Anglicism over a decade later, in 1610. He was released forfeit of
all his possessions, and with a felon's brand on his thumb.
Jonson's second known play, Every Man in His Humour, was performed in 1598 by the Lord Chamberlain's
Men at the Globe with William Shakespeare in the cast. Jonson became a celebrity, and there was a brief
fashion for 'humours' comedy, a kind of topical comedy involving eccentric characters, each of whom
represented a temperament, or humor, of humanity. His next play, Every Man Out of His Humour (1599), was
less successful. Every Man Out of His Humour and Cynthia's Revels (1600) were satirical comedies
displaying Jonson's classical learning and his interest in formal experiment.
Jonson's explosive temperament and conviction of his superior talent gave rise to "War of the Theatres". In
The Poetaster (1601), he satirized other writers, chiefly the English dramatists Thomas Dekker and John
Marston. Dekker and Marston retaliated by attacking Jonson in their Satiromastix (1601). The plot of
Satiromastix was mainly overshadowed by its abuse of Jonson. Jonson had portrayed himself as Horace in
The Poetaster, and in Satiromastix Marston and Dekker, as Demetrius and Crispinus ridicule Horace,
presenting Jonson as a vain fool. Eventually, the writers patched their feuding; in 1604 Jonson collaborated
with Dekker on The King's Entertainment and with Marston and George Chapman on Eastward Ho.
Jonson's next play, the classical tragedy Sejanus, His Fall (1603), based on Roman history and offering an
astute view of dictatorship, again got Jonson into trouble with the authorities. Jonson was called before the
Privy Council on charges of 'popery and treason'. Jonson did not, however, learn a lesson, and was again
briefly imprisoned, with Marston and Chapman, for controversial views ("something against the Scots")
espoused in Eastward Ho (1604). These two incidents jeopardized his emerging role as court poet to King
James I. Having converted to Catholicism, Jonson was also the object of deep suspicion after the Gunpowder
Plot of Guy Fawkes (1605).
In 1605, Jonson began to write masques for the entertainment of the court. The earliest of his masques, The
Satyr was given at Althorpe, and Jonson seems to have been appointed Court Poet shortly after. The masques
displayed his erudition, wit, and versatility and contained some of his best lyric poetry. Masque of Blacknesse
(1605) was the first in a series of collaborations with Inigo Jones, noted English architect and set designer.
This collaboration produced masques such as The Masque of Owles, Masque of Beauty (1608), and Masque of
Queens (1609), which were performed in Inigo Jones' elaborate and exotic settings. These masques
ascertained Jonson's standing as foremost writer of masques in the Jacobean era. The collaboration with Jones
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was finally destroyed by intense personal rivalry.
Jonson's enduring reputation rests on the comedies written between 1605 and 1614. The first of these,
Volpone, or The Fox (performed in 1605−1606, first published in 1607) is often regarded as his masterpiece.
The play, though set in Venice, directs its scrutiny on the rising merchant classes of Jacobean London. The
following plays, Epicoene: or, The Silent Woman (1609), The Alchemist (1610), and Bartholomew Fair
(1614) are all peopled with dupes and those who deceive them. Jonson's keen sense of his own stature as
author is represented by the unprecedented publication of his Works, in folio, in 1616. He was appointed as
poet laureate and rewarded a substantial pension in the same year.
In 1618, when he was about forty−five years old, Jonson set out for Scotland, the home of his ancestors. He
made the journey entirely by foot, in spite of dissuasion from Bacon, who "said to him he loved not to see
poesy go on other feet than poetical dactyls and spondæus." Jonson's prose style is vividly sketched in the
notes of William Drummond of Hawthornden, who recorded their conversations during Jonson's visit to
Scotland 1618−1619. Jonson himself was sketched by Hawthornden: " He is a great lover and praiser of
himself ; a contemner and scorner of others ; given rather to lose a friend than a jest ; . . . he is passionately
kind and angry ; careless either to gain or keep ; vindictive, but, if he be well answered, at himself . . . ;
oppressed with fantasy, which hath ever mastered his reason."1 After his return, Jonson received an honorary
Master of Arts degree from Oxford University and lectured on rhetoric at Gresham College, London.
The comedy The Devil is an Ass (1616) had turned out to be a comparative flop. This may have discouraged
Jonson, for it was nine years before his next play, The Staple of News (1625), was produced. Instead, Jonson
turned his attention to writing masques. Jonson's later plays The New Inn (1629) and A Tale of a Tub (1633)
were not great successes, described harshly, but perhaps justly by Dryden as his "dotages."
Despite these apparent failures, and in spite of his frequent feuds, Jonson was the dean and the leading wit of
the group of writers who gathered at the Mermaid Tavern in the Cheapside district of London. The young
poets influenced by Jonson were the self−styled 'sons' or 'tribe' of Ben, later called the Cavalier poets, a group
which included, among others, Robert Herrick, Thomas Carew, Sir John Suckling, and Richard Lovelace.
Jonson was appointed City Chronologer of London in 1628, the same year in which he suffered a severe
stroke. His loyal friends kept him company in his final years and attended the King provided him some
financial comfort. Jonson died on August 6, 1637 and was buried in Westminster Abbey under a plain slab on
which was later carved the words, "O Rare Ben Jonson!" His admirers and friends contributed to the
collection of memorial elegies, Jonsonus virbius, published in 1638. Jonson's last play, Sad Shepherd's Tale,
was left unfinished at his death and published posthumously in 1641.
Literatura Inglesa I
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