No More Learning

It is not realistic; it is not the expression of high spirits; it is
a perfunctory attempt to season tragedy and romance with an
admixture of rubbish, without humour and without joy.
Of the first and most fundamental of these defects, some
explanation may be found in Ford himself. We have noted his
youthful defence of such romantic propositions as that ‘knights in
ladies' service have no free will. ' This and similar ideas are
frequent enough in the romantic pastoralism of Sidney, Spenser
and their contemporaries. But in these writers such theories of
the supremacy and divine origin of love were presented in an
Arcadian setting, under purely ideal conditions, and, on the whole,
were kept clear of practical life. The young Ford was steeped
in this romantic idealism, and we have seen him applying it to
actual persons in his apology for Stella and Charles Blount. But
the mature Ford was a dramatist who had learned his craft from
Shakespeare, Jonson, Middleton, Massinger and the rest; and,
when we find this lawless idealism given form with all the skill in
characterisation, dialogue and action inherited from the masters
of realism, it ceases to be a harmless dream and becomes, instead,
a fountain of anarchy. But it does not lose all its beauty. The
depth of Ford's insight into the human heart torn by conflicting
passions, the intensity of his sympathy, his mastery of a beautiful
and tender diction and of a blank verse of great sweetness, along
with such technical powers as have already been noted, suffice
to give him a distinguished position among writers of tragedy.
James Shirley was born in London in September, 1596, and
entered Merchant Taylors' school on 4 October 1608, where he
seems to have shown himself an apt scholar. From school, he went,
in 1612, to St John's college, Oxford, then under the presidency
of Laud. It is recorded by Wood in Athenae Oxonienses, our
chief source of information concerning Shirley's life, that Laud, who
liked and appreciated Shirley, objected to his taking orders on
account of his having a large mole on his left cheek. The length
of Shirley's stay in Oxford is unknown; but it was probably short,
for he is known to have transferred himself to Catharine hall,
Cambridge, whence he took his degrees. Having taken orders,
about 1619, he obtained a living at St Albans in Hertfordshire;
but, as he was shortly afterwards converted to the church of


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Shirley's Earlier Career
197
Rome, he resigned his charge and became a master in the grammar
school of St Albans, in 1623. In February 1625, his first play
was licensed, and it was probably soon after this that he gave
up teaching for playwriting, coming to London and residing in
Gray's inn. His dramatic labours brought him a considerable
income, and drew the favourable notice of the court, especially of
queen Henrietta Maria; but it does not appear that this resulted
in any substantial advantage to the poet. His standing in the
fashionable world may be inferred from the terms of the dedications
of his plays to various noble personages, and, with more assurance,
from the fact that he was chosen to write the great masque, The
Triumph of Peace, which the four inns of court presented to the
king and queen in 1634. In 1635, John Ogilby opened a theatre
in Dublin, and it was probably he who induced Shirley to visit
Ireland. The dates of this visit are a matter of inference; but it
seems likely that Shirley first crossed in 1636, and returned to
England for a short time in the next year, but did not permanently
take up his residence in London again till 1640. While in Ireland,
he produced The Royall Master, The Doubtfull Heir, The Constant
Maid and St Patrick for Ireland. The Gentleman of Venice and
The Polititian may, also, belong to this period. His dramatic
activity continued uninterrupted until 1642, when the closing of
the theatres left him with The Court Secret on his hands, finished,
but not acted. On the outbreak of the civil war, Shirley left
his wife and children in London and followed his patron, the earl
(later marquis and duke) of Newcastle, to the field; 'for that
count,' says Wood, 'had engaged him so much by his generous
liberality towards him, that he thought he could not do a worthier
act, than to serve him, and so consequently his prince. ' Wood also
reports that Shirley assisted the duke in the composition of certain
plays, but this collaboration has not been held to have increased
the reputation of Shirley. After the defeat at Marston moor in
1644, Newcastle fled to the continent, and, later, Shirley came
back to London, where he attempted to earn money by the publi-
cation of earlier writings as well as by new compositions. He was
helped by the patronage of the wealthy scholar, Thomas Stanley,
but soon returned to his former profession of schoolmaster, which
sustained him for the rest of his days. With the reopening of the
theatres, he did not resume the writing of plays, though several
of his earlier works were revived. He injured his reputation
(more, probably, than he benefited his purse) by assisting Ogilby
in his translations of Homer and Vergil, using a classical


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198
Ford and Shirley
knowledge which he had put to better employment in the
writing of Latin grammars. The end is best told in the words
of Wood:
At length . . . he with his second wife Frances were driven by the dismal
conflagration that happened in London an. 1666, from their habitation near
to Fleet Street, into the parish of S. Giles's in The Fields in Middlesex,
where being in a manner overcome with affrightments, disconsolations, and
other miseries, occasion'd by that fire and their losses, they both died within
the compass of a natural day: whereupon their bodies were buried in one
grave in the yard belonging to the said church of S. Giles's, on the 29th
of Octob. in sixteen hundred sixty and six.
From the uniformly friendly tone of Shirley's references to his
contemporaries and fellow dramatists, and of theirs to him, we
infer that he was a man of amiable character; and his more
personal writings indicate his modesty. But, beyond these cha-
racteristics, there is little in the record to help to a picture of
the man.
In 1646, Shirley collected and published a number of his
non-dramatic poems. A manuscript in the Bodleian library
supplies variant versions of a large number of these, and a few
additional pieces. For the most part, these poems are amorous
and personal, and show, to a much greater extent than his
dramas, evidences of that discipleship to Ben Jonson which he
was ever ready to acknowledge. Many of them appeared originally
as songs in the dramas, or as prologues and epilogues; others
are epithalamiums, epitaphs and elegies. Though conventional
in manner and matter, they are often graceful and ingenious.
One song rises far above the rest, and is one of the great lyrics
not merely of Shirley's age, but of English literature. "The glories
of our blood and state,' the funeral chant which closes The Con-
tention of Ajax and Ulysses, would have been sufficient to ensure
a place for Shirley in our anthologies, even had all memory of
his dramas been lost. Narcissus, or The Self-lover is almost
certainly a republication of Echo, or The Infortunate Lovers,
which Shirley had issued in 1618. This is an example, not without
beauty, of the elaborate re-telling of Ovidian tales which many
Elizabethan poets attempted. Shirley's immediate model seems
to have been the Venus and Adonis of Shakespeare.
To the closing of the theatres, which checked the production
of Shirley's dramas, we are indebted for the preservation of an
exceptionally large proportion of them; for the enforced cessation
· Rawlinson, Poet. 88.


## p. 199 (#217) ############################################

Shirley's Tragedies
199
of acting during the puritan domination led to the printing of
many plays that might otherwise have perished in manuscript.
Out of some forty dramatic pieces recorded as Shirley's, not more
than three have been lost. Of the remainder, seven are tragedies,
twenty-four are comedies, three are masques and three belong to
none of the recognised dramatic types of the time. The tragedies,
though comparatively few, contain Shirley's most memorable work.
They begin with The Maides Revenge (1626), based on a story of
the jealousy of sisters from Reynolds's God's Revenge against
Murder. The characters are mostly familiar types re-drawn with
fair skill. The comic element reaches a climax in an amusing
farcical scene in the study of a quack, who is seen treating a
succession of patients. Five years passed before Shirley again
attempted tragedy; and, when The Traytor appeared, in 1631, he
showed that he had mastered the technique of stagecraft. The
plot of this really great drama is a free treatment of the story of
Lorenzino de' Medici, who, as the Lorenzo of the play, is repre-
sented as a villain of consummate agility and daring ; prompted
solely by unscrupulous ambition, he plays with amazing skill upon
the licentious nature of his brother the duke and upon Sciarrha's
fiery sense of family honour. Although the way in which Cosmo
yields his betrothed to his friend Pisano fails to convince, the plot,
as a whole, is admirably contrived and well knit, and, in general
effectiveness, ranks with such a play as Beaumont and Fletcher's
Maides Tragedy, to which, probably, it is indebted. Shirley's
favourite device of concentrating the comic element in one elabo-
rate scene is well exemplified here in the mock trial of Depazzi by
his page. Few plays of the period convey so vivid a picture of
the Italy of the renascence on the side of ambition and intrigue.
In the same year, Shirley produced Loves Crueltie, in which
he achieves a rare intensity in the depicting of unlawful passion.
The initial motive which launches the heroine on her downward
career is as natural as it is original. Clarissa's husband has a
friend, Hippolito, who refuses to meet her, lest her beauty should
tempt him to disloyalty to his friend. Piqued by curiosity, she
visits Hippolito at his dwelling, and, without disclosing her identity,
involves him in the intrigue that finally brings disaster on the
whole group. In spite of the disgusting talk of the old rake
Bovaldo, the moral effect of the play is sound and impressive to
a high degree. One leading situation is to be found in the novelle
of Margaret of Navarre and of Cinthio; the rest may be of Shirley's
invention.


## p. 200 (#218) ############################################

200
Ford and Shirley
The Dukes Mistris (1636) would be better classified as a
tragicomedy, since the four main characters are happily reunited
at the close, and only the two villains die. But the tone of the
drama is serious throughout, except for the comic underplot, which
turns on the assumed preference of the hero's friend Horatio
for ugly women. The distinction of the play lies in the lofty
character of the two heroines, the neglected duchess, to whom the
wandering affections of the duke finally return, and Ardelia, who
resists successfully the solicitations of the duke and, finally, is
married to her betrothed. In the killing of the villain Valerio,
behind the arras, there is an evident reminiscence of the death of
Polonius.
The Polititian, also, might be called a tragicomedy, since
the plot ends happily for most of the persons who claim our
sympathy, and the tragic element is hardly greater than that in
Cymbeline, which, in the figure of the villainous step-mother, it
somewhat resembles. The story is said by Langbaine to resemble
one in the first book of the countess of Montgomery's Urania; but
the question of priority needs further examination. Though not
printed till 1655, this play may have been produced in the Dublin
period (1636—40). Like The Gentleman of Venice (licensed 1639),
the date of the production of which is, also, subject to some
uncertainty, it has prefixed to it interesting ‘small characters' of
the persons, summarising their chief qualities. The plot is laid in
Norway, and moves in an atmosphere which, at times, recalls King
Lear and Hamlet.
In The Cardinall (1641), Shirley believed that he reached his
highest achievement, and, but for The Traytor, which surpasses
it in construction, we should be obliged to agree. Its quality
is indicated when we say that, though strongly reminiscent of
Webster's Dutchesse Of Malfy, it is not altogether unworthy of its
great model. A peculiar change takes place in the fifth act, in
which the cardinal, hitherto somewhat in the background and
scheming on behalf of a favourite nephew, comes forward as a villain
of the deepest dye, seeking in rape and murder the satisfaction of
his own lust and revenge. Another unexpected turn is given at
the close by the discovery that the dying confession of the cardinal,
which the convention of the tragedy of blood leads us to accept
as genuine, is a mere trick contrived to poison the duchess with
a pretended antidote. But the excess of ingenuity, and the double
catastrophe, do not prevent us from understanding the claim that
we have here a tragedy greater than any produced in England


## p. 201 (#219) ############################################

Shirley's Comedies of Manners
201
between its own date and the nineteenth century. In the in-
tensity of its interest, the vitality of its characters, the splendour
of its poetry and the impressive fusion of the great tragic motives
of ambition, love and revenge, it brings to a fitting close the
tremendous file of Elizabethan tragedy.
The comedy of Shirley falls into two main classes, the comedy
of manners and romantic comedy, the latter sometimes described
in the early editions as tragicomedy. The scenes of the comedies
of manners are, with one exception and that only nominal, laid
in London or its immediate neighbourhood, and the time is con-
temporary. One or two are satirical in purpose, others are
dramas of situation or intrigue; but all serve to lay before us a
lively picture of city life in the time of Charles I. Though noble-
men appear occasionally among the dramatis personae, the scenes
are not laid at court, and the society represented is that of the man
about town and the well-to-do citizen. This group of plays, ten in
all, begins with Shirley's first dramatic attempt, Love Tricks: or,
The Schoole of Complement (1625). This somewhat dilettante and
imitative production contains much topical satire, and it is re-
deemed from insignificance by the detached comedy scene which
gives the play its sub-title, and which, in an amusing manner,
parodies the affectations of polite address by the device of a school
where they are taught for a fee to all comers. The Wedding
(1626) shows a great advance in construction, and the serious plot
is skilfully conducted to an effective dénouement. It turns upon
the interruption of a wedding by a charge against the purity of the
bride; and the interval before the lady's character is cleared
serves to test the qualities of the chief persons more deeply than
is usual in this kind of comedy. The farcical underplot, here again,
provides a highly comic scene in the duel between a fat man and
a lean one, both arrant cowards. The Wittie Faire One (1628)
is bright in dialogue and ingenious in construction, with somewhat
conventional characterisation. But the modern reader finds it
hard to accept an ending as happy in which a girl of character
and spirit accepts as husband a rake who has been frightened
into respectability by the preposterous device of all his friends
behaving as if he were dead. The principal comic scene is pro-
vided by a foolish knight receiving lessons in geography from his
tutor. Changes: Or, Love in a Maze (1632) is admirably named,
since the plot is so contrived that the three pairs of lovers attach
and detach their affections as often as possible in the course of five
acts. The farce consists in dressing up a page as a rich widow, who


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202
Ford and Shirley
is wooed by the foolish knight, Sir Gervase Simple. An amusing
piece of satirical literary criticism is introduced in the scene
where Caperwit, the poetaster, discusses the function of adjectives
in verse. The value of Hide Parke (1632) is almost altogether
in the minutely realistic study of fashionable life, especially of
horse racing in the park. The underplot lacks emphasis, the
interest is scattering and the characterisation is sketchy. The
Ball (1632), again, is highly topical, being evidently designed to
dissipate slanderous reports that had been circulated concerning
the newly originated subscription balls, and, perhaps, also to give
the actors opportunity for personating 'divers . . . lords and others
of the court,' as the master of the revels complained they did.
Romantic interest is entirely subordinated to the exposing of a
variety of typical humbugs and fraudulent adventurers. On the
title-page of the original edition, Chapman is named as Shirley's
collaborator ; but, in spite of a strong suggestion of the older
method of Jonson in the handling of the types, it is clear that, in
the play as we have it, Chapman's share is negligible? Though in
execution a lively picture of contemporary manners, The Gamester
(1633), in its main intrigue, is strongly reminiscent of the novella.
It was made, says Sir Henry Herbert, 'out of a plot of the king's,
given him by mee,' but Langbaine found the story both in the
Ducento Novelle of Malespini” and in Margaret of Navarre's
Heptameron8. Though coarser in tone and incident than is usual
with Shirley, the comedy is worked out with great ability, and the
sordid improbability of the Hazard-Wilding plot is, in part, atoned
for by the fine romantic spirit of the underplot of Leonore and
Violante. The making and unmaking of the younger Barnacle as
a ‘roarer' supplies some good farcical scenes. The conduct and
'
influence of the chaste wife, Bellamia, raise The Example (1634) to
a much loftier level than the preceding play. The difficult feat of
rendering a would-be adulterer's conversion plausible is skilfully
accomplished here, though why he should insist, later, on fighting
with the husband is not made very clear. Here, again, Shirley
shows himself critical of current literary style; and, in the character
of Sir Solitary Plot, returns again to the method of the comedy of
humours. The Lady of Pleasure (1635) is frequently regarded as
Shirley's best performance in its kind. The main plot, which turns
on the curing a wife of her desire for a life of fashionable folly, is
thoroughly sound and well carried out. The minor plot of the young
widow Celestina gives occasion for some fine speeches, but is less
1 Cf. ante, chap. II. 2 Part 11, nov. 96. * Day 1, nov. 8.


## p. 203 (#221) ############################################

6
Shirley's Romantic Comeaies
203
convincing in itself. The satire against rakish men about town is
scathing enough ; but, like many satirists, Shirley proves unable
to touch pitch without defiling himself. In The Constant Maid
a play of the Dublin period, the author displays no new or striking
characteristics. It is a conventional comedy of artificial misunder-
standings, supported by an equally conventional underplot and a
masque.
The most numerous group of Shirley's plays is that of romantic
comedy. The scenes of these fourteen dramas are laid in the
Mediterranean countries, usually Italy, and the action, in almost
every case, takes place at court. The list of dramatis personae is
headed by a king or duke, and most of the characters are courtiers.
The nature of the incident is often appropriate to the minal
scene; but the kind of social intercourse pictured, to a large ex-
tent, is that of the court of Charles I. The main plot is usually
serious, and, much oftener than in the comedy of manners, comes
within sight of tragedy, thus accounting for the name 'tragi-
comedy,' by which they are sometimes described in early editions.
There is more stress on character, too, than in the lighter
comedies, and the plot is apt to work up to a more exciting
climax and to make more use of suspense.
The distinction between these two types of comedy was much
less clearly recognised by Shirley at the beginning of his career
than later. Thus, the first two comedies of manners have several
characteristics of the romantic comedy, and, on the other hand,
The Brothers (1626), though laid in Madrid and touching depths
of feeling not usually reached in light comedy, is not a court
comedy, and, in the story of Jacinta and her lovers, deals with
material quite appropriate to the group we have just been dis-
cussing. The main theme is the foiling of the tyrannical father
who seeks a wealthy alliance for his daughter; and this familiar
type is nowhere more unmercifully ridiculed. But the more
serious secondary theme which gives the name to the play, the
enforced rivalry of two brothers for the approval and fortune of
their father, is saved from tragedy only by the resuscitation of the
parent who had pretended death in order to test his elder son.
In The Gratefull Servant (1629), the type of romantic comedy is
thoroughly established. The tone of the main plot is raised to an
uncommon height by the disinterested Foscari, who is willing to be
supposed dead rather than hinder the marriage of his betrothed
lady to the duke. This kind of generosity, which occurs not un-
frequently in Shirley, forms a link between him and Thomas


## p. 204 (#222) ############################################

204
Ford and Shirley
>
6
Heywood, and has the effect of giving the reader an amiable
impression of the author rather than of convincing him of the
probability of the story. In the disguised heroine Leonora, and,
in the self-important steward Jacomo, one is forcibly reminded of
Twelfth Night. The conversion of the unfaithful husband Lodwick,
in the underplot, is very dubiously managed.
If, as seems probable, Fleay is right in identifying the next play,
The Bird in a Cage (printed 1633) with The Beauties, licensed
in 1633, the number of Shirley's lost plays is reduced to two.
A sarcastic attack on Prynne, then in prison, forms the dedication,
and may have suggested the re-naming of the play. The comedy
contains some novel spectacular elements, such as the birdcage in
which the hero gets himself smuggled into the castle where the
princess is confined, and the play of Danaë, appropriately acted
by the ladies-in-waiting to amuse their mistress. The scene at
the close, where the lovers stand together against the wrath of the
outwitted duke, is not without nobility. The Young Admirall
(1633) won the special approbation of the master of the revels as
being in the beneficial and cleanly way of poetry. It is, indeed,
exceptionally free from coarseness, and, in every respect, an
excellent piece of stagecraft. The interest of plot is very high,
the motives adequate and varied, the characters clearly conceived
and originally presented and the speeches often highly poetical.
It turns on a series of problems, such as love against patriotism,
and conjugal love against filial love. Amusing farce is provided
by a trick played on Pazzarello, a coward who is persuaded that
a witch has made him invulnerable. The source of the play is
stated by Stiefel to be Lope de Vega's Don Lope de Cardona;
and the same scholar has found, in Tirso de Molina's El Castigo
del Pensèque (printed in 1634), a Spanish original for The
Opportunitie (licensed in the same year). This amusing play
turns upon the matrimonial opportunities lost by a travelling
adventurer who arrives in Urbino and is mistaken by everyone
for. the absent son of a prominent courtier. Shirley departs
from his source in the last act by depriving the hero of both
the ladies he had wooed, whereas the Spanish author makes
him lose the duchess, but marries him to one of her ladies. The
point of the plot of The Coronation (1635) lies in the successive
discovery of two brothers of a reigning queen, whose crown thus
shifts from head to head, producing a succession of effective
situations, in which lies the chief merit of the play. It contains
a masque, but no low comedy. This piece was included in the


## p. 205 (#223) ############################################

Shirley's Romantic Comedies
205
second folio of Beaumont and Fletcher's works, but no considerable
part of the play is to be ascribed to any hand but Shirley's. The
main interest of The Royall Master, performed first in Dublin and
printed in 1638, lies not in a somewhat conventional, if skilful,
central intrigue, but in the secondary figure of the young girl
Domitilla, who imagines that the king is in love with her, and is
cured of her infatuation by her royal master, who pretends
to seek her love basely. This situation is taken from the De-
cameron? ; the main plot is stated by Stiefel to be Spanish in
origin? Another Dublin play, licensed in 1640, is The Doubtfull
Heir. The interest here, as in The Coronation, lies in the
surprises of the action, the fortunes of Ferdinand, the lost heir
of Murcia, undergoing a series of most violent changes; while the
charm of the piece is in the constancy of the hero and his
betrothed, which gave the play its original name Rosania, or
Love's Victory. There are two plots of almost equal importance
in The Gentleman of Venice (1639). In one, an interesting contrast
of character is elaborated between the duke's son, supposed to be
the gardener's, and the gardener's son, supposed to be the duke’s.
In the other, a plot of an uncommonly painful nature is handled
with delicacy. The Arcadia, printed in 1640, but, perhaps, per-
formed some years before, is a frank dramatisation of the main
incidents of Sidney's romance, with much elaboration of the
farcical elements. The Humorous Courtier (printed 1640), also
of uncertain date of production, has an ingenious plot, but is
spoiled by the gratuitous coarseness of the scenes dealing with
Orseolo, the pretended misogynist but actual libertine, who gives
the play its name. The main plot turns on the testing of her
courtiers by the duchess of Mantua, who, secretly betrothed to
the duke of Parma, gives out that she means to marry at home,
and enjoys the spectacle of her lords covering themselves
with ridicule in their efforts to gain her hand. The Im-
posture (1640) was considered by Shirley to be in the first rank
of his compositions. It is, indeed, cleverly manipulated, and the
interest is well maintained through a highly complicated plot.
But the devices are lacking in both novelty and probability. An
ambitious favourite, seeking to secure the daughter of the duke of
Mantua for himself, substitutes for her his own discarded mistress
when the son of the duke of Ferrara comes wooing. The low
comedy is supplied by a young coward Bertholdi, who seeks to
ingratiate himself with the gallants by offering to each in turn the
1 Day x, nov. 7. 2 For modern analogues, see Ward, vol. II, p. 116, note 1.


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206
Ford and Shirley
hand of his widowed mother, a lady of wit and independence.
The Sisters (1642) was the last play by Shirley performed
before the theatres were closed. It is a lively and amusing
treatment of the theme of the proud and the humble sister. After
the former has been fooled by a captain of bandits masquerading
first as a fortune teller and then as a prince, she is discovered to
be the child of a peasant, and the estates and the real prince go to
her modest rival. The farce is frankly absurd, but, on the stage,
must have been highly amusing. The dedication has an inter-
esting picture of the condition of poets in England just before the
war began, and the prologue contains eulogies of Shakespeare,
Fletcher and Jonson. The Court Secret, the latest of Shirley's
regular dramas, was not acted till after the Restoration. It deals
with the familiar theme, already several times employed by him,
of the hidden heir, and surpasses other works on the subject only
in the extreme intricacy of the plot. Mendoza, the father of the
supposititious prince, is handled with some freshness and humour,
being rendered miserable by the possession of the court secret,'
but without the courage to reveal it. The real and the false
princes are treated with a delicacy of comparison that distinguishes
them clearly from the similarly situated but broadly contrasted
pair in The Gentleman of Venice.
A number of miscellaneous pieces remain to be mentioned.
The most curious of these is the extraordinary hodge-podge written
for the Dublin theatre, and called St Patrick for Ireland (printed
1640). The main plot, derived from the life of the saint, may be re-
garded as something between a chronicle history and a miracle-play;
the love story is tragicomedy ; the figure of Rodamant is farcical.
The device by which a lover gets access to a virtuous girl in the
guise of a god is as old as Josephus and was already familiar on
the English stage. A bracelet making the wearer invisible is used
both in the serious and in the low comedy parts. Though the piece
contains scenes and speeches that might find appropriate enough
place in regular dramas, the effect of the whole is grotesque; and
even the noble figure of St Patrick suffers in dignity from its
patchwork background.
Interesting in a different way is the allegorical drama, Honoria
and Mammon (pub. 1659), an elaboration of a morality, A Con-
tention for Honour and Riches, which Shirley had printed in
1633. The purpose of the 'Moral,' as he calls it, is the exalting
of the scholar as against the courtier and the soldier, and the
exposing of the deceitfulness of riches. In its form, there is


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Shirley's Entertainments
207
much conventional dramatic material; but, on the allegorical side,
it is a more interesting production. The characters, which, in
the earlier form, are largely abstractions, become, in the revision,
types; and this change makes them much more effective for the
pictures of contemporary life in which lies the main value of the
piece.
The Tragedie of Chabot Admirall of France (licensed 1635) is
ascribed on the title-page of the quarto to Chapman and Shirley.
Chapman was dead before the play was acted, and Shirley may
have given it some revision; but, in all essentials, it is evident
that it is the work of the older poet? . Like most of Chapman's
tragedies, it is founded on French history; it is full of his weighty
diction and serious thought; and it is much less well adapted to
the popular stage than we should expect had Shirley had any
considerable share in it.
Besides the masques introduced into nine or ten of his plays,
Shirley has left three separate productions of this class : The
Triumph of Peace (1633), The Triumph of Beauty (printed 1646)
and Cupid and Death (1653). The first of these has already been
referred to as the great entertainment presented by the inns of
court to the king and queen. Except in scale and splendour, it
does not differ notably from most other productions of its kind,
and today it is memorable chiefly as a document in social, rather
than in literary, history. The Triumph of Beauty deals with the
judgment of Paris, and it is introduced by an extensive and obvious
imitation of the rehearsals of 'Pyramus and Thisbe' by Bottom and
his friends in A Midsummer Night's Dream. Cupid and Death,
on the familiar fable of the exchange of the weapons of the two
deities and its disastrous results, was written for performance
before the Portuguese ambassador.
The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses for the Armor of
Achilles (printed 1659), though often described as a masque, is,
in reality, nothing of the sort. It is a short dramatic piece, based
on Ovid's Metamorphoses, intended for private production. It
contains nothing spectacular and no dancing. Some of the speeches
are eloquent, though both the main characters suffer from the
obvious comparison with Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida. The
piece is now remembered for the great lyric already mentioned,
with which it closes.
Of the originality of Shirley's plots, it is at present somewhat
hazardous to speak. In the foregoing pages, we have been able to
1 Cf. ante, chap. IL


## p. 208 (#226) ############################################

208
Ford and Shirley
indicate sources for only about one-fourth of his plays, and it has
been customary to credit him with a greater share of inventiveness
than most of his fellow dramatists. But Stiefel, who proved the
Spanish origin of the plot of The Opportunitie, named another for
The Young Admirall, and stated that The Wedding, The
Humorous Courtier, The Example and The Royall Master are,
also, from Spanish sources. If this can be made good, it is clear
that it is too soon to pronounce on the question of invention in
this sense. But, from those plays whose sources are known, we
can draw inferences as to his skill in treating a source; and our
evidence is sufficient to justify us in crediting to him a high degree
of ability in making over a story for stage purposes, in leading the
interest up to a well prepared climax and in arranging effective
situations. This last power had, indeed, distinguished most of his
predecessors in the seventeenth century, but he does not so often
as, say, Beaumont and Fletcher, sacrifice the unity of impression of
the whole play, or the consistency of character, for the sake of
single sensational scenes.
In characterisation as in theme, he had both the advantages
and disadvantages of the situation described at the beginning of
the present chapter. Fifty years of drama lay behind him of which
to follow or avoid the example. Could we read half a dozen of
the best plays of Shirley without any knowledge of his predecessors,
we should, doubtless, rank him much higher in the literature of
the world than we do; but he is usually read, as he wrote, at the
end of the series, and we are thus obliged to recognise constant
echoes, reminiscences and imitations of the giants who went be-
fore. It was, perhaps, hardly possible for any writer of his date
to avoid the familiar types and situations which had been often
employed. A dramatist of the time of Charles I had to walk
through a field honeycombed with pits, and it was futile to seek
to follow a straight course and avoid them all. If frequent con-
ventionality in these matters implies decadence, then Shirley was
undoubtedly decadent.
The moral standards of Shirley were not those of Ford.
Shirley has his share of grossness, both in incident and dialogue,
but this grossness is neither more frequent than in his pre-
decessors, nor is it by any means habitual. Of Ford's moral
agnosticism there is no trace in Shirley. In some of his plays, the
moral is almost obtrusive; in none of them is the general drift
immoral. Nor is he notable for the violence or sensationalism of
his catastrophes. The slaughter which closes The Traytor, Loves


## p. 209 (#227) ############################################

Shirley and Ford compared
209
Crueltie and The Cardinall is no more wholesale than that at the
end of Hamlet or King Lear, and, in intention at least, it is like
Shakespeare's, the necessary outcome of character and previous
action, not, like Ford's, an ingenious horror concocted for a final
thrill. In comic power, he stands high above Ford. Without
being primarily a comic artist, Shirley yet displays much genuine
comic power, both in conceiving amusing situations, and in creating
comic characters. In versification, too, Shirley seems to belong
to an earlier and sounder school than Ford. His metre is
singularly correct and easily read; Ford uses much licence and
not infrequently gives us lines hard to scan. Both men were
capable of great sweetness of melody, and both adorned their
finer speeches with a wealth of flowery imagery, not always
dramatically appropriate, but frequently of great beauty and
imaginative suggestiveness.
Yet, with all Shirley's greater soundness, greater versatility,
surer versification and admirable craftsmanship, one feels that
there are certain heights and depths achieved by Ford which
the younger man never reached. When we turn to the most
wonderful things in Ford, we find a tenderness, a poignancy
and an insight that Shirley cannot match. Shirley is the more
balanced mind, the better workman; Ford, the rarer genius. The
best things in both give them assurance of their place in the
ranks of the greater dramatists of their age, and, if so, then of
any age. And these facts must be carefully considered before,
together or apart, they are set down as examples of their art's
decline.
E, L. VI.
CH. VIII.
14


## p. 210 (#228) ############################################

CHAPTER IX
LESSER JACOBEAN AND CAROLINE DRAMATISTS
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 dra-
matist, 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
a


## p. 211 (#229) ############################################

The Influence of Ben Jonson
2II
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 manu-
facture 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.
We propose to begin our survey with John Day, adding a list
of smaller men, whose comedy is either Elizabethan in general
character, or Elizabethan with the additional influence of
Middleton's hard, bright realism. We shall next consider the
work of two men who came personally under Jonson’s tuition
and have a special right to be entitled his ‘sons'-Nathaniel Field
and Richard Brome. Field's work, like John Day's, has distinction
and originality. Brome was a careful and strenuous craftsman,
pursuing his vocation steadily till the stage was silenced. Field
was the foremost actor of his day, and Brome was intimately
acquainted with stage life. Together, they cover the Jacobean
and Caroline age till 1642. Both of them continue the Eliza-
bethan impulse, and Brome may justly claim to be noted, with
Shirley, as having worthily maintained the Elizabethan tradition
till the end. Brome has left fifteen plays, none of which is without
its interest, and, on the whole, he is the most considerable writer
14-2


## p. 212 (#230) ############################################

212 Lesser Jacobean and Caroline Dramatists
who will come before us. Two other men, although they have no
claim, like Field and Brome, to a place among those who continue
the Elizabethan dramatic impulse, nevertheless are distinguished
by a wit and genius raising them above the crowd of lesser men
who show that the Elizabethan impulse is dead.
These are
Thomas Randolph and Sir John Suckling. When we have dealt
with their work, there remain to us only dramatists whose plays
are either meritorious and dull, or extravagant and dull. We
shall make an effort to discover among these the precursors of
the next age, and, accordingly, the last name on our list will
be that of Sir William D'Avenant.
As a member of the group of robust collaborators who wrote
assiduously for Henslowe during the last year of Elizabeth's reign,
John Day failed to produce distinctive work. It was, perhaps, by
writing for the children of the revels that he struck into his own
vein and produced three plays, which, because they stand apart in
style and manner from the main stream of dramatic work, attract
an attention hardly due to their actual merits as literature. And
they have a second claim upon the student. Day's pleasant little
masterpiece, The Parliament of Bees, which is not a play, is directly
related to his plays; and we can see in his plays those qualities at
work which make The Parliament of Bees charming. The Ile of
Guls was produced in the spring of 1605. The plot is taken from
Sidney's Arcadia. Duke Basilius has left his kingdom under
his brother and retired with his queen and two daughters to a
'desert isle,' sending a general challenge 'to all the youthful bloods
of Africa' to
Woo, win, entice, or any way defeat
Me of my charge, my daughters of their hearts.
The successful suitors—both of them, apparently-
Shall with their loves wear my imperial crown.
But, before the play begins, there is a prose induction containing
the conversation of three gentlemen, who interrupt the prologue,
supposing him to be the boy who should provide them with stools.
They ask whether the play has any connection with the recent
West-Ward Hoel and suppose that there is some political libel in
it, since the title, Ile of Guls, is obviously suggested by Nashe's Isle
of Dogs? . To the disappointment of the first gentleman, the pro-
logue protests fervently against these suppositions. He desires 'to
1 Cf. ante, chap. VII.
2 Cf. ante, vol. v, chap. VI.


## p. 213 (#231) ############################################

Day's Ile of Guls
213
hear vice anatomized and abuse let blood in the master vein'; he
asks of the play, 'Is there any great man's life charactered in't? . . .
And there be not wormwood water and copperas in't, I'll not like it. '
The second gentleman cares for none of these things; his tastes
are simpler; 'Is there any good bawdry in't, jests of an ell deep
and a fathom broad? ' He wants scenes that will make a man's
spirits stand on their tip toes and die his blood in a deep scarlet,
like your Ovid's Ars Amandi. ' When the prologue objects that
chaste ears would never endure it, he retorts, 'What should chaste
ears do at a play? ' But the third gentleman cares for neither
railing nor bawdry; he requires 'a stately penned history'. . .
‘high-written'-'mere fustian,' his friend calls it, 'full of tear-cut
thunderclaps. '
Upon these three kinds, says the dramatist, the popular audience
insists—all these we must have and all in one play or 'tis already
condemned to the hell of eternal disgrace. The induction shows
that Day intended to produce a new style if he could; it shows,
also, that he was very much afraid of failing; he has none of
Ben Jonson's sturdy scorn of popular taste; when the prologue is
finally allowed to speak, we get only a faint-hearted defiance of
'Opinion's voice,' whose tyranny is
The misery that waits upon the pen
Of the best writers.
It is not surprising, therefore, that Day fails to emancipate
himself from the evils he deprecates. In the matter of bawdry
especially, he yields to the base demands of 'opinion. ' He is not
more coarse than others and he makes no attempt to dye our blood
in a deep scarlet ; but he takes his story and his characters from
Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia and besmirches the sweet and noble
romance of his original with the indecencies of the work-a-day
Elizabethan drama. It may be urged that Shakespeare does the
same thing, even in As You Like It. But Shakespeare creates
such a soul of purity in his heroines that their most outrageous
jests and words fail to hurt them. Day puts no soul at all into
his women; his characters have almost no personality. Although
he protests that he will not be a satirist, it is his railer, Dametas,
who comes nearest in his play to being a live man, and the duke
and his queen are vulgarised as well as the heroines. We are fre-
quently reminded of Shakespeare's earlier comedies in reading Day.
In The Ile of Guls, we catch echoes from A Midsummer Night's
Dream. But this similarity almost forces us to compare Day's
duke and duchess with Shakespeare's Theseus and Hippolyta.


## p. 214 (#232) ############################################

214 Lesser Jacobean and Caroline Dramatists
What would have become of the romance and charm of Shake-
speare's play if Theseus—and, with him, Hippolyta—had been
involved in a clumsy intrigue, depriving the king and hero of all
grace and dignity? The two pairs of lovers are equally uninterest-
ing. It is enough to say that Day in no way differentiates them;
and we are unable to care much about what happens to either
couple. All these things interfere with our appreciation of Day's
art in providing us with a pretty tangle, neatly and deftly untied
at the end. Such an art there is in The Ile of Guls, and it is a
new thing in the Elizabethan drama as Day uses it. It points
forward to Restoration comedy, and has some kinship with the
comedy of Molière.
And it is not only in his plot that Day shows clear conception
of a comedy different from the Shakespearean romantic comedy
and from the Jonsonian comedy of humours—both of them full of
life and humanity; in his dialogue there is a new note-a new con-
vention of epigram and repartee—which, together with neatness of
plot, marks the typical Restoration comedy. In The Ile of Guls,
the plot by which all the characters are collected together at
the end of the play blindfolded, as it were, to find themselves
plain gulls when the bandage is taken off, is cleverly and neatly
elaborated; but, in the course of the play, we also have a continued
effort to present a dialogue duly arranged and ordered, in which
the wit has a scheme and keeps the rules. The most notable
instance is the famous tennis match scene in the second act.
Bullen says truly: 'Outside of Shakespeare's early comedies it
would be difficult to find among the dramatists of the time such
another tour de force of sprightly repartee’; but, although
Shakespeare's early work, probably, was the chief influence in
producing Day's type of comedy, there is a noticeable contrast
between the two kinds. The copiousness and exuberance of all
the punning and repartee of Love's Labour's Lost produce an
effect the exact opposite of Day's balanced and considered epi-
grams. Shakespeare gives his characters full play in the scenes
of quip and repartee; Day holds his in. His art has not enough
vigour and flow in it; Shakespeare's has too much. Shakespeare,
again, is eager to break loose from the fetters of rime for the
larger scope and movement of blank verse; Day, on the contrary,
desires to get back to rime; he has not breath enough for Eliza-
bethan blank verse. Shakespeare's fountain gushes and leaps, with
much danger to artificial restraints of all sorts; Day's rivulet, on
the contrary, flows obediently whither it is led, and often trickles
>


## p. 215 (#233) ############################################

Humour out of Breath
215
nearly dry. Elizabethan extravagance and overstrain are foreign
to his art, which is Attic, or even Doric, in its simplicity and
orderliness. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that Day never
does himself justice in his plays; he is too much hampered and
confused by the alien conditions in which his genius has to work.
In The Ile of Guls, it is only the induction wbich is quite easy and
lucid. The tennis scene, perhaps because the terms used are no
longer familiar, is hard to follow, and the verse effects are too
complicated. We see what the artist means, but his execution is
not perfect. A scene in Law-Trickes, where the countess dis-
courses to her maids as they sew, is his nearest approach to
dramatic effectiveness in his own style. This play, probably, was
written in 1606, and Humour out of Breath in 1607. The three
plays present, quite recognisably, a new dramatic type, but they
do not coherently and adequately realise it.
The title Humour out of Breath is actually quoted from The
Comedy of Errors, and the influence of Shakespeare's early
comedies is very evident in all three plays; but the neatness and
compactness of Day's prose style in his dialogue is more akin to
the manner of another master-John Lyly. Lyly does not exhibit
in his comedies the copiousness and exuberance which characterise
Shakespeare's first work. Lyly's plays, even more than Day's, lack
flesh and blood, and belong to a world of moonshine and shadow.
But, within their limits, they have a true charm of fancy, and their
style escapes the pedantry and tediousness of the writer's prose
work, and is as deft and crisp as Day at his best. To complete
the parallel, we may note that Lyly (supposing him to be their
author") gives us a handful of beautiful lyrics, remarkable as be-
longing not to the true Elizabethan type, but, rather, to the later
style of Herrick. Day's best lyric work in The Parliament of Bees
is, in the same way, post-Elizabethan. It must be compared with
Browne's Pastorals or Milton's L'Allegro.
· Day describes The Parliament of Bees as “an allegorical
description of the actions of good and bad men in these our
days. ' But he composed it from scenes contributed to two plays
which have reached us under the titles The Noble Souldier
and The Wonder of A Kingdome. Dekker, in cooperation with
Samuel Rowley, was mainly responsible for these plays. Between
their style and Day's, there could be no real accord, and only
enough of Day is left to make it clear that The Parliament
of Bees was not, as we might suppose, completely fresh work
1 On this question, cf. ante, vol. v, chap. VI, p. 125.


## p. 216 (#234) ############################################

216 Lesser Jacobean and Caroline Dramatists
constituting a new departure in the art of the writer. Scenes
contributed to more than one play were the groundwork upon
which Day composed his dainty and graceful series of 'Colloquies'
or 'Characters. The fact throws a true light on Day's dramatic
work; but the drama was not his natural vein. What would be
interesting to know is how he came to write The Parliament of
Bees. In the excellent prose tract, Peregrinatio Scholastica,
written, apparently, before The Parliament, he speaks of himself
as 'becalmed in a fog of necessity,' that is to say, he writes be-
cause he needs money, which he hopes to get not only from the
printer, but, also, from the patron to whom he dedicates his book.
He says, also, that he is lying at anchor 'before the Islands, Meliora
Speramus. ' Fleay's tempting suggestion is that Day means holy
orders by this, and by the 'shrine of Latria,' towards which, in the
allegory, the sometimes student of Gunvill and Caius Colledge in
Cambridge' is travelling. If this were so, it would be necessary
for the old playwright, until he was duly ordained, to make money
by some more edifying form of literature than plays. He, therefore,
wrote Peregrinatio and, after that, used certain scenes from old
plays to make his unique Parliament of Bees. There is extant a
manuscript copy of The Bees earlier than the quarto of 1641, and
the changes are not all of them merely in style; the poem is made
definitely graver in revision. The delightful first title disappears
as too flippant-'An olde Manuscript conteyning the Parliament
of Bees, found In a Hollow Tree In a garden at Hibla, in a strandge
Languadge, And now faithfully Translated into Easie English Verse
by John Daye, Cantabrig. ' The poem, it should be noted, is not a
masque in the ordinary and technical sense. It rather resembles
a series of pastoral eclogues. The successive scenes have no con-
tinuity, except such as is supplied by the idea of making all the
characters bees. Day conceives his poem as a series of satires ;
but he charges his bees to
Carry an humble wing
Buzz boldly what I bid, but do not sting
Any particular,
It is only the usuring bee whom we can identify:
Most of the timber that his state repairs
He hews out o' the bones of foundred players :
They feed on poets' brains, he eats their breath.
This can be none other than Philip Henslowe.
We gather, from both Peregrinatio and The Parliament, that
Day was not seeking orders from any unworthy motives. The prose
a


## p. 217 (#235) ############################################

Robert Armin
217
of the tract is more fluent than that of the plays. The style of the
poem, too, has, more fully than that of the plays, Day's special gift-'a
sense of delicate music in the fall and arrangement of quite common
words' In spite of the fog of necessity' around him, the writer
is at peace with himself and the world. A note of peevishness and
bitterness which occasionally obtruded itself in his earlier work
has disappeared, and the poet's music in his last poem is serene,
spontaneous and sweet.