Philip Massinger Part 2

UBALDO. We will be revenged, When he comes to court the ladies, and laugh at him.

Another of Ma.s.singers effective devices is to sustain the interest of the spectators by concealing characters and facts; thus, in _The Duke of Milan_ we do not fathom for some time the villainy of Francisco; in _The City Madam_ we ponder from the beginning over the obscure character of Luke. The best instances of this expedient are to be found in _The Unnatural Combat_ and _The Bondman_. The air of gloom which overhangs the former tragedy is as great in its way as anything which our author has attained; and though the play is what we may call Elizabethan rather than for all time, yet it is in some sense the best specimen of his serious work. The desire of Malefort is that of the father in Sh.e.l.leys _Cenci_; and perhaps the only way to prevent the theme from being intolerable was to veil it as long as possible, and to raise the spectators sympathy at first for a man who had fought well for the State, and who to all appearance was badly treated by his pirate son.(114) In _The Bondman_, Marullo and Timandra, the brother and sister, are concealed till the very end, when they reveal themselves to be Pisander and Statiliathereby bringing to an unexpected conclusion a plot which seemed to offer no solution.(115)

In _The City Madam_ the method is varied a little: here we have one of Ma.s.singers greatest creations, the fawning hypocrite, Luke. Indications of his future development are skilfully given from time to time, so that when this alarming person at length shows himself in his true colours we s.h.i.+ver without being surprised. The same idea shows itself in _The Renegado_,(116) in the skill with which Donusa leads up to her proposal that Vitelli should turn Mahometan; and in _The Virgin Martyr_,(117) where Artemia prepares the way for the offer of her hand to Antoninus.

Ma.s.singer is never so happy as when he has an opportunity in his well-proportioned scenes for displays of rhetoric, such as we find in Euripides, where character argues against character.(118) These scenes are often thrown into the form of a trial at law or a debate in the Senate.(119)

The plays end well and effectively; our author excels in the tragi-comedy, a type much affected by Fletcher. Like all his contemporaries, he felt that the intermixture of a lighter element in a play which ended happily was justifiable.(120) The haste which Shakspere sometimes shows in his fifth act is, as a rule, not apparent in Ma.s.singer. For example, in _The Virgin Martyr_, the death of the heroine occurs at the end of the fourth act. To all appearance there is bound to be an anticlimax in the fifth act. But there is not; on the contrary, the appearance of the heavenly messenger, bearing the fruits of Paradise to the cruel persecutor Theophilus, elevates the mind into a state of surprise and admiration. It has often been pointed out that the appearance of a deity to cut the knot at the end of a play of Euripides, which sometimes irritates the thinker in his study, and provokes him to write essays on the bad art and theology of the poet, is dazzlingly beautiful on the stage, and raises a.s.sociations of sublimity and awe; it may in the same way be imagined how effective must have been the procession at the end of _The Virgin Martyr_. The stage directions run as follows: Enter Dorothea in a white robe, crownes upon her head, led in by Angels, Antoninus, Caliste, and Christeta following, all in white, but lesse glorious, the Angell with a Crowne for him (_i.e._, Theophilus). At the sight of the glorious vision the persecutor dies, converted to the Christian faith, and the evil spirit, which has prompted his cruel acts, sinks to his own place with thunder and lightning, while Diocletian and his court look on in amazement. Similarly, in _The Roman Actor_ there is no anticlimax; though Paris dies in the fourth act,(121) we feel that the tragedy is incomplete until it is rounded off by the punishment of the Emperor Domitian, which we breathlessly await.

Secondly, Ma.s.singer has a beautiful style. This point again is conceded by all the critics. The elegance of his dedications shows that had he wished he could have written excellent prose.(122) One who depreciates him allows that his style is pure and free from violent metaphors and harsh constructions.(123) It has the grace and balance which one would expect from a well-bred and educated man, owing little to ornament or epithets or images. It serves its purpose, which is to tell a story rapidly, and to unfold character rather than to display the authors command of language or subtlety of thought and expression. Seldom trivial, it is never prosaic, and yet it is constantly on the border-line of prose. Ma.s.singer thought in blank verse because he was a dramatist rather than because he was a poet. Hence his enemies might say that his lines are prose in lengths; yet that would be an unjust accusation. The poetical colour is here, the ideal dignity, the atmosphere, although they obtrude themselves less on the reader than in most poets. Like Ovid, Ma.s.singer is one whose amazing facility carries us along like a flooda writer who should be read in large quant.i.ties at a time,

Whose easy Pegasus will amble oer Some three-score miles of fancy in an hour.(124)

It needs little argument to show that a poet of this order can easily secure the effect of verisimilitude to life, and will owe much of his success to that fact. Style naturally appeals differently to different people; there are those who are captivated by the glamour of Sh.e.l.ley and Swinburne, or the pomp of Jeremy Taylor; there are also those who enjoy the severity of _Paradise Regained_, and the simplicity of Newmans _Sermons_. In an age like the present, when many of our poets, like our musicians, whatever else they are, either will not or cannot be simple, it is refres.h.i.+ng to turn to an author who is always lucid, and who is content to tell a story to the best of his ability.

There are times when the style of Ma.s.singer rises into solemn eloquence, especially when he indulges in the moralizing vein. Unlike some of his literary contemporaries, Ma.s.singer wishes to show Virtue triumphant and Vice beaten. Vice is never glorified in his pages, or condoned. Honest indignation is perhaps the emotion which he handles best. The uncontrollable anger which meanness and unworthiness provoke expresses itself in lofty language. Forcible and plain-spoken rebukes are found, which show that Ma.s.singer could be curt when he pleased. The plays are full of high-spirited pa.s.sages, affording admirable opportunities for a master of elocution.

Let me give a specimen of just anger in the speech of Marullo. Marullo is the leader of the revolt of the slaves at Syracuse, and he is addressing their former lords and masters:

Briefly thus then, Since I must speak for all,your tyranny Drew us from our obedience. Happy those times When lords were styled fathers of families, And not imperious masters! when they numberd Their servants almost equal with their sons, Or one degree beneath them! when their labours Were cherishd and rewarded, and a period Set to their sufferings; when they did not press Their duties or their wills, beyond the power And strength of their performance! all things orderd With such decorum, as wise lawmakers From each well-governd private house derivd The perfect model of a Commonwealth.

Humanity then lodged in the hearts of men, And thankful masters carefully provided For creatures wanting reason. The n.o.ble horse That, in his fiery youth, from his wide nostrils Neighd courage to his rider, and brake through Groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord Safe to triumphant victory, old or wounded, Was set at liberty and freed from service.

The Athenian mules that from the quarry drew Marble, hewd for the temples of the G.o.ds, The great work ended, were dismissd and fed At the public cost; nay, faithful dogs have found Their sepulchres; but man to man more cruel, Appoints no end to the sufferings of his slave; Since pride steppd in and riot, and oerturned This goodly frame of concord, teaching masters To glory in the abuse of such as are Brought under their command; who grown unuseful, Are less esteemd than beasts. This you have practisd, Practisd on us with rigour; this hath forced us To shake our heavy yokes off; and, if redress Of these just grievances be not granted us, Well right ourselves, and by strong hand defend What we are now possessd of.(125)

In a lower key of manly dignity is the speech of Charalois before the Judges in _The Fatal Dowry_. It begins thus:

Thus low my duty Answers your lords.h.i.+ps counsel. I will use, In the few words with which I am to trouble Your lords.h.i.+ps ears the temper that you wish me; Not that I fear to speak my thoughts as loud, And with a liberty beyond Romont; But that I know, for me that am made up Of all thats wretched, so to haste my end, Would seem to most rather a willingness To quit the burden of a hopeless life Than scorn of death or duty to the dead.(126)

As an example of a high-spirited pa.s.sage, a speech may be given from _The Bondman_. Cleora, the heroine, comes forward in a meeting of the Senate to urge patriotic effort on her fellow-countrymen. Timoleon, the general, is in the chair, and she addresses him first:

CLEORA. If a virgin, Whose speech was ever yet ushered with fear; One knowing modesty and humble silence To be the choicest ornaments of our s.e.x In the presence of so many reverend men, Struck dumb with terror and astonishment, Presume to clothe her thought in vocal sounds, Let her find pardon. First to you, great sir, A bashful maids thanks, and her zealous prayers, Wingd with pure innocence, bearing them to heaven, For all prosperity that the G.o.ds can give To one whose piety must exact their care, Thus low I offer.

TIMOLEON. Tis a happy omen.

Rise, blest one, and speak boldly. On my virtue I am thy warrant, from so clear a spring Sweet rivers ever flow.

CLEORA. Then thus to you, My n.o.ble father, and these lords, to whom I next owe duty; no respect forgotten To you my brother, and these bold young men (Such I would have them) that are, or should be, The citys sword and target of defence, To all of you I speak; and if a blush Steal on my cheeks, it is shown to reprove Your paleness, willingly I would not say, Your cowardice or fear; think you all treasure Hid in the bowels of the earth, or s.h.i.+pwreckd In Neptunes watry kingdom, can hold weight, When liberty and honour fill one scale, Triumphant Justice sitting on the beam?

Or dare you but imagine that your gold is Too dear a salary for such as hazard Their blood and lives in your defence? For me, An ignorant girl, bear witness! heaven, so far I prize a soldier, that to give him pay, With such devotion as our flamens offer Their sacrifices at the holy altar, I do lay down these jewels, will make sale Of my superfluous wardrobe, to supply The meanest of their wants.(127)

This pa.s.sage is printed in a broadside (headed Countrymen) relating to the expected invasion of England by Bonaparte, to be found at the British Museum. A short statement of the plot of _The Bondman_ is followed by a quotation of Act I., 3, 213-368, with one or two slight omissions.

Possibly Gifford inspired its publication.

Perhaps the most eloquent pa.s.sage in Ma.s.singer is the speech of Paris, the Roman actor, before the Senate, in defence of his profession:

ARETINUS. Are you on the stage, You talk so boldly?

PARIS. The whole world being one, This place is not exempted; and I am So confident in the justice of our cause, That I would wish Csar, in whose great name All kings are comprehended, sate as judge To hear our plea, and then determine of us.

If to express a man sold to his l.u.s.ts, Wasting the treasure of his time and fortunes In wanton dalliance, and to what sad end A wretch thats so given over does arrive at; Deterring careless youth by his example, From such licentious courses; laying open The snares of bawds, and the consuming arts Of prodigal strumpets, can deserve reproof; Why are not all your golden principles Writ down by grave philosophers to instruct us, To choose fair virtue for our guide, not pleasure, Condemnd unto the fire?

SURA. Theres spirit in this.

PARIS. Or if desire of honour was the base On which the building of the Roman empire Was raised up to this height; if, to inflame The n.o.ble youth with an ambitious heat Tendure the frosts of danger, nay, of death, To be thought worthy the triumphal wreath, By glorious undertakings, may deserve Reward, or favour from the commonwealth; Actors may put in for as large a share As all the sects of the philosophers; They with cold precepts (perhaps seldom read) Deliver, what an honourable thing The active virtue is; but does that fire The blood, or swell the veins with emulation, To be both good and great, equal to that Which is presented in our theatres?

Let a good actor, in a lofty scene, Show great Alcides honourd in the sweat Of his twelve labours; or a bold Camillus Forbidding Rome to be redeemd with gold From the insulting Gauls; or Scipio, After his victories, imposing tribute On conquerd Carthage; if done to the life, As if they saw their dangers, and their glories, And did partake with them in their rewards, All that have any spark of Roman in them, The slothful arts laid by, contend to be Like those they see presented.

RUSTICUS. He has put The consuls to their whisper.

PARIS. But, tis urged That we corrupt youth and traduce superiors.

When do we bring a vice upon the stage, That does go off unpunishd? Do we teach, By the success of wicked undertakings, Others to tread in their forbidden steps?

We shew no arts of Lydian panderism, Corinthian poisons, Persian flatteries, But mulcted so in the conclusion, that Even those spectators that were so inclined, Go home changed men. And for traducing such That are above us, publis.h.i.+ng to the world Their secret crimes, we are as innocent As such as are born dumb. When we present An heir, that does conspire against the life Of his dear parent, numbering every hour He lives, as tedious to him; if there be, Among the auditors, one whose conscience tells him He is of the same mould, we cannot help it.

Or, bringing on the stage a loose adulteress, That does maintain the riotous expense Of him that feeds her greedy l.u.s.t, yet suffers The lawful pledges of a former bed To starve the while for hunger; if a matron However great in fortune, birth, or t.i.tles, Guilty of such a foul, unnatural sin, Cry out tis writ for me, we cannot help it.

Or when a covetous mans expressd, whose wealth Arithmetic cannot number, and whose lords.h.i.+ps A falcon in one day cannot fly over; Yet he so sordid in his mind, so griping, As not to afford himself the necessaries To maintain life; if a patrician (Though honourd with a consuls.h.i.+p) find himself Touchd to the quick in this, we cannot help it.

Or, when we shew a judge that is corrupt, And will give up his sentence, as he favours The person, not the cause; saving the guilty, If of his faction, and as oft condemning The innocent, out of particular spleen; If any in this reverend a.s.sembly, Nay, even yourself, my lord, that are the image Of absent Csar, feel something in your bosom That puts you in remembrance of things past, Or things intended, tis not in us to help it.

I have said, my lord; and now as you find cause, Or censure us, or free us with applause.(128)

I will quote three more pa.s.sages: one to show how lifelike in description Ma.s.singer can be; the second, to show how he can enn.o.ble the expression of love; the third, to show how tender he is at his best.

The first is from _The Maid of Honour_. A soldier comes in with news for the besieged general, who is standing on the walls of Siena, looking for aid from his friends:

_Enter_ a Soldier.

FERDINAND. What news with thee?

SOLDIER. From the turret of the fort, By the rising clouds of dust, through which, like lightning The splendour of bright arms sometimes brake through, I did descry some forces making towards us; And from the camp, as emulous of their glory, The general, for I know him by his horse, And bravely seconded, encounterd them.

Their greetings were too rough for friends; their swords, And not their tongues, exchanging courtesies.

By this the main battalias are joind; And if you please to be spectators of The horrid issue, I will bring you where, As in a theatre, you may see their fates In purple gore presented.(129)

The second is from _The Duke of Milan_, where Marcelia expresses her love for her lord, Sforza, the Duke of Milan.

MARCELIA. My worthiest lord!

The only object I behold with pleasure, My pride, my glory, in a word, my all!

Bear witness, heaven, that I esteem myself In nothing worthy of the meanest praise You can bestow, unless it be in this, That in my heart, I love and honour you.

And, but that it would smell of arrogance To speak my strong desire and zeal to serve you, I then could say, these eyes yet never saw The rising sun, but that my vows and prayers Were sent to heaven for the prosperity And safety of my lord, nor have I ever Had other study, but how to appear Worthy your favour; and that my embraces Might yield a fruitful harvest of content For all your n.o.ble travail, in the purchase Of her thats still your servant; by these lips, Which pardon me that I presume to kiss

SFORZA. O swear, for ever swear!

MARCELIA. I neer will seek Delight but in your pleasure; and desire, When you are sated(130) with all earthly glories, And age and honours make you fit for heaven, That one grave may receive us.