KING LEAR AND THE STORM

THE ECCENTRIC HERO I N DRYDEN'S HEROIC PLAYS

BERNARD SHAW AND CREATIVE EVOLUTION

by

D o u g l a s D. G o r d o n

B . A . , A c a d i a U n i v e r s i t y , 1960.

THREE PAPERS SUBMITTED I N PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF

THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

MASTER OF ARTS

i n the D e p a r t m e n t

of

E n g l i s h

@ DOUGLAS D. GORDON 1971

SIMON F'RASER UNIVERSITY

June, 1971

APPROVAL

Name t Douglas DeWolf Gordon

Degree t Master of A r t s

T i t l e s o f Essays: King Lear and the Storm The Eccentric Hero i n Dryden's Heroic Plays Bernard Shaw and Creative Evolution

Examining Committees

D r . A / Messenger Senior Supervisor

D r . R.E. ~ a b e n i c h t

D r . E. F. narden---

J: F. "Stewart ernal Examiner

Dept, o f English University o f Brit ish Columbia

' i

Date Approved: /Y J ,M..,/ ,I G -, ,

iii

ABSTRACTS

PAPER I: K I N G LEAR AND THE STORM

King Lear's concept of an orderly and harmonious

universe with himself, a s king, a t its ea r th ly centre, is

shat tered when he imagines himself t o be betrayed by Cordelia

and when he is, i n r e a l i t y , betrayed by Goneril and Hegan.

H i s f i n a l break with his former b e l i e f s and the beginning

of h i s understanding of the r e a l universe occur during the

storm scene i n A c t 111, the storm ref lec t ing , o r appearing

t o r e f l e c t , h i s chaotic s t a t e of mind.

By examining i n d e t a i l the opening l i n e s of

A c t 111, Scene 2 , Lear's two invocations t o the storm, and

r e l a t i n g them t o the rest of the play, ra ther than assessing

the play a s a whole, t h i s essay attempts a d i f f e ren t route

t o an appreciation both of Learvs condition and of Shake-

speare's complex and extensive thinking on the subject of

nature from those taken by such critics a s Danby, Knight and

H e i lman .

PAPER 11: THE ECCENTRIC HERO I N DRYDEN'S HEROIC PLAYS

John Dryden's romantic admiration of the ir-

regular, @*Herculeann hero, which is c lea r ly indicated i n

passages both from h i s criticism and h i s plays, conf l i c t s

with h i s sincere, conservative bel ief i n the predominance of

society over the heroic individual. After a preliminary

discussion of Dryden's concept of the "Herculeanw hero as

he inher i ted it from the European epic t r ad i t ion (pa r t i cu la r ly

h i s immediate predecessor i n t h a t t r ad i t ion , Tasso), the essay

attempts an exploration of t h i s conf l i c t and its e f f e c t on

h i s presentation of heroism on the stage, by focussing on

h i s two most successful i r r egu la r heroes, Maximin, i n Tvrannic

Love, and Almanzor, i n The Conquest of Granada.

PAPER I111 BERNARD SHAW AND CREATIVE EVOLUTION

Through a discussion of h i s two V i t a l i s t plays,

Man and Superman and Back t o Methuselah, t h i s essay explores

Shaw's concept of the doctrine of c rea t ive evolution. It

concludes t h a t Shaw is more e f fec t ive a s a s o c i a l and moral

critic i n Man and Superman than a s a visionary and prophet

of Vitalism i n Back t o Methuselah.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

Examining Committee Approval

Abstracts

Paper I :

Paper I1 I

Paper 111 I

King Lear and the Storm

Notes

Bibliography

The Eccentric Hero in Dryden's Heroic Plays

Notes

Bibliography

Bernard Shaw and Creative Evolution

Notes

Bibliography

ii

iii

PAPER I; KING LEAR AND TKE STORM

I t is always best t o s t a t e one's i n t en t i ons a t

t h e beginning of an essay, i f only a s an i nd i ca t i on t o

t h e re-der , l o s t i n subsequent d ig ress ions , of t h e paper 's

o r i g i n a l aims. In t h i s essay I hope t o undertake a p a r t i a l

explora t ion of t h e complex and extens ive th ink ing on t h e

sub j ec t of na tu r e which appears i n Shakespeare's Kinq Lear.

This f i e l d has a l ready been covered q u i t e thoroughly by

such critics a s John F. Danby, G. Wilson Knight and Robert

Heilman. However, while these and o t h e r commentators have

approached t h e p lay from without, applying t h e i r va r ious

\ c r i t i c a l methods with equal i n t e n s i t y t o t h e p lay a s a whole,

our method w i l l be first t o examine i n some d e t a i l a s h o r t

but important passage i n t h e p lay , and then t o t ake a broader

look a t the rest of t h e p lay i n t h e l i g h t of conclusions

drawn from our examination of the s e l ec t ed passage.

The passage w e have chosen c o n s i s t s of two

important speeches made by Lear a t t h e beginning of A c t 111,

scene ii, t h e storm scene. For t h e sake of convenience I w i l l

quote them h e r e : l

Lear: Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

You c a t a r a c t s and hurr icanoes, spout

T i l l you have drench'd our s t e e p l e s , drown'd

t h e cocks!

You sulph 'rous and thought-executing f i r e s ,

Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,

Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,

Strike flat the thick rotundity oe the world!

Crack Nature's moulds, all germens spill at once

That makes ingrateful man!

(~inq Lear 111. ii. 1-9)

Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters:

I tax you not, you elements, with unkindness;

I never gave you kingdom, called you children,

You owe me no subscription: then let fall

Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave,

A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man.

But yet I call you servile ministers,

That will with two pernicious daughters join

Your high-engendered battles 'gainst a head

So old and white as this, 0, ho! 'tis foul.

(Kinq Lear III.ii.14-24)

Ignoring for now their meaning, let us first

examine these lines for their rhythmic and tonal qualities.

Although they are cast, for the most part, in five foot

blank verse, their rhythm is, as one might expect, highly

complex and i r r e g u l a r , Shakespeare uses a number of devices

a t t h e beginning of the passage t o convey t o t h e audience

both t he fu ry of t h e storm and the power of Lear 's presence.

The f i r s t l i n e , with i ts sharp monosyllabic commands, and

i ts v a r i e t y of harsh sounds i n c lose juxtaposi t ion, t h e hard

okM and "ch** of "crackf* and wcheeks,w and t h e nasa l , s i b i l a n t

and vowel sounds of "winds," "cheeks," "bloww and "rage,"

suggests a t once the cacophony of t h e storm and e s t ab l i shes

t h e imperative mood of t he passage. This is no prayer t o t h e 2

heavens, a s one critic has suggested. In t h e f i r s t l i n e ,

Lear's commands come th i ck and f a s t : "Blow, winds and crack

your cheeks! Raqe! B l o ~ ! ~ beginning t h e passage a t a p i t c h

set so high t h a t it can rise no higher , but can only moderate

i n t he l i n e s following. A r e l ea se from the tens ion set up

by t h i s opening l i n e can be f e l t i n t h e descending rhythms

of "ca ta rac t sw and whurricanoesw which evoke a s w e l l t he

downpouring r a i n of the storm. The f e e l i n g of tension and

r e l ea se from tension is strengthened by Shakespeare's

con t ras t ing of t he monosyllabic f i r s t l i n e , made up of e i g h t

sho r t words of na t ive o r i g i n , with t he polysyl labic and

imported "hurricanoesl* and "cataracts" of t h e second l i n e .

The impact of these two l i n e s on an Elizabethan ea r must

su re ly have been a s profound a s t h a t of t he t o n a l innovations

i n Wagner's music dramas on the ea r of a nineteenth-

century opera-goer. 3

The dissonance of t h e f i r s t two l i n e s moderates

somewhat i n l i n e s t h r ee t o f i ve : f r i c a t i v e s g ive way t o the

vowel and nasa l sounds of "drenchedw and wdrown*dw and the

s ib i l ance of "s teeples ," @@sulph'rous ," and @@fi re s , " sounds

which suggest t h e r e l e a s e of both t h e storm's n a t u r a l fu ry

and t h e pent-up emotional fu ry of t he king. The course of

Lear's emotions can be followed roughly by observing i n t h i s

passage the posi t ioning and frequency of h i s d i r e c t commands

t o t h e elements: a t f i r s t they come i n quick succession l i k e

a series of thunderclaps, "blow," "rack," "rage," "blow,"

then the r e l ea se of "You c a t a r a c t s and hurricanoes," then

wspoutw; but a f t e r t h i s l a s t order t he re follows t h e "des-

c r ip t i ve" passage of l i n e s t h r ee t o f i v e . H e r e the f a l l i n g

rhythms of "drenched our s teep les , " "drown*d the cocks,"

m ~ ~ l p h e r ~ ~ ~ ," @*-executing, @* "-couriers , and "thunder-

b o l t s w evoke t h e r e l ea se , t h e outpouring of f ee l ing brought

on by Leares opening commands. A t the same t i m e t he contra-

punta l h a l t i n g metre of nthought,H Vaun tw and e spec i a l l y

teoak-cleaving@* bui lds towards a second emotional peak

climaxing i n "Singe my white head!" This pa t t e rn is

r e f l ec t ed i n t h e sound s t r u c t u r e of these l i n e s . The f i r s t

and most powerful cycle of tens ion and r e l e a s e merges i n t o

t he next somewhere i n t he middle of l i n e f i v e where one can

notice a shift back from the sibilant "fires, / Vaunt-

couriersw to the tight cluster of hard sounds in moak-

cleaving thunderbolts.@* Lines six to nine contain a second

series of commands more widely spaced and at a lower intensi-

ty than the first:

Sinqe my white head! And thou, all-shaking

thunder,

Strike flat the thick rotundity o* th* world!

Crack Nature's moulds, all germens spill at once

That makes ingrateful man!

(my italics)

Several much briefer cycles of tension and release appear in

these linest perhaps the best example appears in the seventh

line where the climactic "Strike flatw is followed by the

falling rhythm of "thick rotundity o* the world!" Here again

Shakespeare puts to good use his device of contrasting native

words (*!Strike flat") with those of foreign origin ("rotund-

ity.). Particularly skillful is his positioning of the Latin-

ate word "rotundityw in these lines: not only does the word

itself contrast sharply with its Anglo-Saxon neighbours, **Singe,"

"head, " "all-shaking," **Strike ," and especially "thick," but its low vowel sounds at once clash with the hard fricative

sounds of its immediate neighbours and echo the earlier thunder

of "Vaunt," and "thunderbolts. We can thus see in these lines

f u r t h e r e f f e c t i v e use of c o n t r a s t i n g sound p a t t e r n s a l l

evoking t h e waxing and waning rage and f u r y of t h e storm, both

i n n a t u r e and wi th in Lear ' s mind. I n t h e concluding l i n e s a

new p a t t e r n of l i q u i d sounds (wmouldsw, w a l l w , " s p i l l w ,

" i n g r a t e f u l " ) appears , r e s o l v i n g as w e l l a s p o s s i b l e t h e

c o n f l i c t i n g cracking , thundering, h i s s i n g and c rash ing of t h e

rest of t h e passage.4

Before going on t o the rest of Lear ' s speech w e

should comment f u r t h e r on Shakespeare 's method of juxtaposing

n a t i v e Engl ish words with those of f o r e i g n o r i g i n , n o t only

because of i ts ex tens ive and e f f e c t i v e use i n t h e s e l i n e s bu t

a l s o because t h e device itself is, i n a sense , emblematic of

t h e t u r b u l e n t age i n which Kinq Lear w a s w r i t t e n . Although

w e noted on ly two i n s t a n c e s , one can q u i t e e a s i l y show by

i t a l i c i z i n g t h e fo re ign words how s k i l l f u l l y Shakespeare

extends h i s use of t h i s device throughout t h e passage:

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!

.You c a t a r a c t s and hurr icanoes , spout

T i l l you have drench'd our s t e e p l e s , drowned t h e

cocks !

You sulph ' rous and thought-executinq f i r e s ,

Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbo l t s ,

Singe my white head! And thou, a l l - shaking thunder

S t r i k e f l a t t h e t h i c k ro tund i ty o' t h e world!

Crack Nature's moulds, a l l qermens s p i l l a t once

That makes i n q r a t e f u l man!

(my i t a l i c s )

Those e s p e c i a l l y marked a r e words which, i n Shakespeare's day

were ju s t beginning t o be accepted i n t o t h e English language.

W e have a l ready noted t h e s k i l l f u l pos i t ion ing of "ca ta rac t s , "

whurr icanoes ,m "rotundi tyw and the t ens ions and dissonances

set up between them and their neighbouring vernacular words:

a s i m i l a r stress can be seen opera t ing between t h e French

"Vaunt-couriersw w i t h i ts vowels and s i b i l a n t s and the f r i c a -

t i v e and very English noak-cleaving," and, i n the f i n a l l i n e s

where tens ion subs ides , lower-pitched c o n f l i c t s occur between

the La t i na t e "germens*' and " ingra te fu l " and t h e monosyllabic

vernacular of " a l l , " " s p i l l w and "makes," "man."

Without becoming too f a n c i f u l , one can see a g r ea t

dea l of s i gn i f i c ance i n Shakespeare's use i n t h i s passage of

words only p a r t i a l l y absorbed i n t o the language. The speech

represen t s a c l imac t i c moment i n Lear 's s p i r i t u a l development: ,

here , f o r t h e f i r s t t i m e , t h e king peers i n t o t h e abyss and $,

sees how woefully inadequate h i s o l d conception of an ordered

na tu re w i t h himself a t its e a r t h l y centre is when compared

t o t h e na tu re of r e a l i t y . Taking t h e English vernacular a s

emblematic and express ive of the medieval, ordered and

-

@%earianW concept of nature, w e can consider any large

borrowing of words from outside i t s e l f a s indicat ive both

of the break-down of the universe it describes and of its

i n a b i l i t y t o comprehend the r e a l universe, J u s t a s Lear is

unable t o come t o terms with r e a l i t y without first going mad,

so the language i t s e l f must undergo tortuous change (beginning

with Shakespeare and continuing through the baroque imagery

and f a n t a s t i c conceits of Donne, H e r b e r t and Crashaw) before

emerging purged and ra t iona l under the "Cordelianm ministra-

t ions of Dryden, Addison, Pope and S w i f t , ready t o cope with

the new r e a l i t i e s of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

Within the context of the play, it is c lea r t h a t t h e c lash of

nat ive and borrowed words i n t h i s passage, suggesting a s it

does a breakdown i n communication, is an excel lent means of

depicting Lear's f a i l u r e t o r e l a t e t o the r e a l universe.

A f t e r the Fool*s inter lude wherein he beseeches

the king t o surrender completely t o h o s t i l e nature by accepting

the sovereignty of h i s daughters, Lear continues. This

second passage proceeds a t a much lower pi tch, L ike the

first, it begins with a series of commands: "Rumble thy

bellyful! S p i t , fire! Spout, rain!" However, these commands

have less force than t h e i r e a r l i e r counterparts; *%amblen

suggests d i s t a n t , perhaps subsiding thunder, ra ther than the

immediate rages of the storm; "spi t" and nspoutw imply sporadic

v io lence more than the f u l l f u r y of "crack your cheeks."

Y e t t h i s first l i n e is t h e m o s t powerful i n t h e passage.

The only o t h e r command appears i n l i n e 18, "then le t f a l l /

Your h o r r i b l e p leasure ." The remainder of t h e passage is i n

t h e i n d i c a t i v e mood; t h e f u r y of t h e imperat ive has been

abandoned, j u s t a s Lear appears t o abandon h i s e f f o r t s t o I

c o n t r o l t h e elements , o r a t l e a s t t o match t h e i r f u r y I

with h i s own:

Nor r a i n , wind, thunder, f i r e , a r e my daughters :

I t a x you n o t , you elements, wi th unkindness;

I never gave you kingdom, c a l l ' d you c h i l d r e n ,

You owe m e no s u b s c r i p t i o n :

Gone a r e a l l t h e ha r sh dissonances of t h e e a r l i e r speech:

i n s t e a d of " c a t a r a c t s and hurr icanoesw w e have, simply, " ra in ,"

" f i r e w f o r wsu lph9rous and thought-executing f i r e s , " and

"thunder" f o r "oak-cleaving thunderbol t s . " W e s e e a s h i f t

from t h e h igh ly coloured imagery of t h e f i r s t speech t o t h e

genera l and almost a b s t r a c t " r a i n , wind, thunder , f i r e , "

"elements," "kingdom," "chi ldren ," and t h e f u l l a b s t r a c t i o n s

of nunkindness*@ and " s u b s ~ r i p t i o n , ~ Except f o r t h e some-

what rougher sound of w s u b s c r i p t i o n , w which b u i l d s some

t ens ion t o be r e l e a s e d by t h e f i n a l command "then le t f a l l , "

t h e s e l i n e s flow with ha rd ly any f r i c t i o n a t a l l . Although

t h e storm has n o t receded, one senses a widening gap between

Lear ' s mental out look and t h e s torm's cont inuing fu ry . The

impression of Lear 's u n i t y with t h e storm, s o convincingly

conveyed i n t h e f i rs t passage, f a d e s away t o almost nothing

i n t h e s e l i n e s , j u s t a s h is f i r s t sha rp commands subs ide

u l t i m a t e l y i n t o t h e r e s i g n a t i o n and impotence of "0, ho!

@tis foul!"

From t h e apparent p o s i t i o n of command over t h e storm

which he t a k e s i n t h e f i r s t passage, Lear descends, i n t h e s e

l i n e s , t o one of "equa l i tyw with t h e r ag ing elements and

a t tempts a l e v e l d ia logue with them: "1 t a x you n o t . . .I

never gave you kingdom. . .You owe m e no subsc r ip t ion . "

Lear ' s cons tan t mention of himself i n t h e s e l i n e s under l ines

the growing d i s t a n c e between himself and the storm. H e

descends f u r t h e r , t o a p o s i t i o n of s e r v i t u d e :

then l e t f a l l

Your h o r r i b l e p leasure ; here I s t and , your s l a v e ,

A poor, in f i rm, weak, and d e s p i s e d o l d man.

The imperat ive "then l e t f a l l / Your h o r r i b l e pleasure,cc

wi th its descending metre and compliant l i q u i d sounds, is

more a g e s t u r e of submission t o t h e storm, of r ecogn i t ion of

i ts g r e a t e r power, than a command. The impression of s e r v i l i t y

is s t rengthened, of course, by t h e two l i n e s fol lowing.

A f i n a l p r o t e s t and a f i n a l r ecogn i t ion of h i s

impotence can be seen i n t h e l a s t four l i n e s of h i s speech:

But yet I call you servile ministers,

That will with two pernicious daughters join

Your high-engendergd battles 'gainst a head

So old and white as this. 0, ho 'tis foul. , " r

Seeing his own servility, Lear accuses the elements of the

same fault, and an impression of his momentary indignation

at the thought of the elements conspiring with his daughters

against him is reflected in the dissonance of "pernicious** - and "high-engender*dw and in the tensions (like those in the

first passage) set up between these Latinate words and their

surrounding monosyllables. Finally, Lear breaks off his

dialogue with the storm: the concluding "0, ho! 'tis foul"

is addressed not to the storm, but to the spectator as a

comment either on the storm's merciless fury or on his own

miserable condition.

Having thus examined these two passages we are left

with an impression of a series of clashes, each falling short

of the last's intensity, ranging in force from tne elemental

fury of "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!" to the impotent

acquiescence of **O, ho! 'tis foul." It is on this framework h-

that Shakespeare builds his elaborate image of a man striving - \ to comprehend the real universe, at first seeming to swz-ceed,

then failing all too clearly and falling, mentally and

physically exhausted from the effort. It can be argued that I

Leares madness begins i n these passages. W e can examine

t h i s image i n greater d e t a i l by looking again a t these

l ines , t h i s t i m e f o r t h e i r meaning.

The f i r s t l i n e needs l i t t l e explanation, except

perhaps a comment on the savagely baroque image of "crack

your cheeks," Lear c a l l s f i r s t upon the wind, the element

of a i r , t o wreak disorder on the world. The Oxford Enqlish

Dictionarv on His tor ica l Principles quotes t h i s l i n e t o i l l u s -

t r a t e one meaning of "crack," t o snap o r s p l i t asunder, 5

Given t h i s meaning w e have the s t a r t l i n g image of a wind

s p i r i t (wind personified by the use of ncheeksw t o describe j--

it) s p l i t t i n g h i s cheeks asunder i n the a c t of generating the

raging winds of the storm, It is a powerful image but one

which might not impinge on the mind of a modern playgoer who

could take "crackn simply a s a description of the tendons i n

the cheek snapping, o r seeming t o snap, under the s t r a i n of

bringing f o r t h wind, If w e accept the more powerful image w e

should note its suggestion of the wind's unfocused fury implied

i n its issuing f o r t h i n a l l d i rect ions from the torn cheeks

of the wind s p i r i t .

The next two l i n e s a re ra ther more d i f f i c u l t :

cataract^,^ f o r example, probably had several qu i t e d i f f e ren t

meanings f o r Shakespeare. There is f i r s t the l i t e r a l sense

of waterspout o r waterfal l , the meaning which the O.E.D.

i l l u s t r a t e s by c i t i n g the l i n e i n which th is word appears,

Having ca l led upon the wind, a i r , Lear now summons water, the

next element, t o wreak its fury on the world, An older sense

of the word is i l l u s t r a t e d i n these l i n e s from Paradise Lost: 6

a l l the Cataracts

Of Heaven set open on the Earth s h a l l pour

Rain day and night, a l l fountains of the Deep

Broke up, s h a l l heave the Ocean t o usurp

Beyond a l l bounds, till inundation rise

Above t h e highest H i l l s . , . (XI . 824-829)

wCataracts*v here is synonymous with floodgates and a s such

gives Shakespeare a powerful image w i t h which t o re inforce our

impression of the re lease of pent-up, powerful emotions, a

fee l ing already strongly conveyed through the metre of these

l i n e s ( the f i n a l wblowlH of the f i r s t l i n e can be taken a s

re fer r ing t o "cataractsw ra ther than winds^, suggesting the

forcing o r burst ing open of f loodgates) , A t h i r d important mean-

ing, and one which bears on the pat tern of s i g h t imagery extend-

ing throughout Kins Lear, is t h a t of an opacity of the eye's

c rys ta l l ine lens. According t o the O . E . D . , ca tarac t was used

i n t h i s sense a t l e a s t a s e a r l y a s 1547, Apart from echoing

b a r e s s p i r i t u a l blindness, t h i s sense of the word reinforces v..- -.

our impression of the storm's blind d i rec t ionless fury con- ! )

veyed i n the f i r s t l i n e and e a r l i e r , i n these l i n e s from the

. f i r s t scene of A c t 111: " t e a r s h i s white h a i r , / Which t h e

impetuous b l a s t s , with e y e l e s s r age , / Catch i n t h e i r f u r y

and make noth ing o f u ( I I I . i . 6 - 8 ) . wHurricanoesw is a less

ambiguous word. A r e c e n t a d d i t i o n t o t h e language of Shake-

s p e a r e ' s day from t h e Carib huracan, it was taken t o r e f e r

t o those v i o l e n t sea-borne waterspouts i n t h e t r o p i c a l storms

which were preva len t i n t h e Caribbean. 7

Both " c a t a r a c t s w and whurr icanoesw a r e commanded

t o "spoutw f o r t h t h e i r f u r y , t h e f i r s t from t h e heavens

above, **drenchg d our s t e e p l e s , t h e second, "drown' d t h e

cocks," from t h e raging s e a s below: drench can have t h e sense

of soaking by f a l l i n g water o r r a i n a s w e l l a s t h a t of wet-

t i n g through immersion, whereas drown h a s t h e unambiguous

meaning of submerging i n water o r of being engulfed by r i s i n g

f loods . "Steeplesw and "cocksw a r e t h e on ly a r t i f a c t s mentioned

i n t h e s e almost t o t a l l y n a t u r a l i s t i c passages and two of t h e . -

very few i n t h e e n t i r e p lay . Both can be taken a s symbols

of manes a t tempt t o impose h i s own o rde r on ungovernable na- I I

t u r e and both a r e h e r e swept away by i ts i r r e s i s t i b l e fo rce . \ A t t h i s t i m e s t e e p l e was used metonymically f o r church and

J could t h u s he re s t a n d f o r a s p i r i t u a l o rde r which Lear once - \,

bel ieved t o be i n opera t ion i n h i s world, bu t which he now

f e e l s is powerless a g a i n s t t h e f o r c e s of n a t u r e and of " f i l i -

a l i n g r a t i t u d e , " "Cocks," with i t s connotat ions of chiefdom

and leadership, could represent manes temporal power here

rendered impotent, a s is Iea r , by the fury of the storm.

The word a l so c a r r i e s with it, from its l i t e r a l sense of

weather-cock, the connotations of d i r e c t i o n and measurement,

(of space and a l so of t i m e , f o r the expressions nfirst,

second o r t h i r d cockm were current ly used to express points

of t i m e ) . Thus, with the inundation of msteeplesw and wcocksn

a l l a r t i f i c i a l l y imposed order is seen t o be swept away

by the destruct ive forcesiof nature.

The image these l i n e s contain of waters both r i s i n g

and f a l l i n g t o engulf the e a r t h is universal , appearing i n the

Bible: win the same day were the fountaines of the grea t deepe

broken vp, and the windowes of heauen were opened9* (Genesis,

8 9 7.11); Ovides Metamorphoses; Paradise Iast ( i n the passage

quoted e a r l i e r ) and several other places i n Shakespeare,

typ ica l ly these l i n e s from Richard I I g l '

Like an unseasonable stormy day,

Which makes the s i l v e r r i v e r s drown t h e i r shores,

A s i f the world w e r e a l l dissolv*d t o t ea r s ,

So high above h i s l i m i t s s w e l l s the rage

Of Bolingbroke . , . (1II.i.i. 106-110)

Its universa l i ty indicates both the depth and the chaotic

s t a t e of Leares emotions which Shakespeare wishes t o convey

i n t h i s f i r s t passage. b a r , s t r i v i n g "in h i s l i t t l e world

of man t o out-storm / The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and

ra inn f I I I . i . 1 0 - l l ) , h i s mind charged with the shock and

horror of h i s daughters* ingrat i tude, reads i n t o the storm

a l l the fury of pas t universal catastrophes and, i n the l ines

following, of the future f i n a l destruction of the ear th . The

storm continues, however, here less powerful than Lear*s

invocations of the Flood and the Last Judgement, l a t e r

enduring while LearOs fury subsides in to impotence. Because

of the power of these l i n e s w e a r e i n danger of forge t t ing

t h a t there is never any r e a l rapport between Lear and the

elements: the concept of a king commanding the forces of ,

nature is p a r t of the mythology of Learvs o ld world picture , 1 /

a p ic ture which has been shat tered by h i s daughters*

ingrat i tude and whose fragments the storm is now blowing t o

d i s t an t corners of h i s mind.

So f a r w e have had echoes only of t h e Flood \ '

(whether Noahes o r Deucaliones is i r r e l evan t ) with its

connotations of regeneration; now, with "You sulpherous and

thought-executing f i r e s w a suggestion of H e l l and the

irrevocable destruction of the Last Judgement appears. F i r e

joins a i r and water i n t h e i r destruct ive fury. wSulph*rous,w

with i ts echoes of the inferna l , poses no ser ious problems

of meaning; wthought-executing,w on the other hand, has

inspired a number of scholarly comments and a r t i c l e s . The

variorum edition of Kinq Lear cites Dr. Johnson's quite

literal interpretation of the phrase: "Doing execution with

rapidity equal to thought," and Moberly's paraphrase,

*@executing the thought of Him who casts you. ** l1 Both critics

take the general meaning of execute, to carry out a plan or

order, as valid here. As a description of the speed of

lightning, Johnson's meaning is quite valid, looking forward

as it does to the next line, "Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving

thunderbolts,'' but Moberly's interpretation, in suggesting

the existence of a direc- of the storm's eyeless rage,"

does not fit the mood of the passage. If, as one critic has

12 done, one takes the more specific meaning of execute, to

put to death, a more satisfactory interpretation of the line

can be drawn: "'thought-executing* should be paraphrased

'thought-destroying.' Lear calls for the lightning to

penetrate his skull and destroy his thoughts, to blot out

memories of his ungrateful daughters. This plea for the I i annihilation of sanity reinforces Learns previous tirades

I

i against Goneril and Regan, and also prepares for his impend-\ i

1

ing madness. l3 "Thought-destroying" continues the theme of '

"drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocksw: first the effects

of thought, now thought itself are envisioned by Lear as

casualties of the storm; it also links more effectively with

"Singe my white head," bringing out more clearly thesuggestion

i n t h i s phase of Lear's approaching insanity.

Thus f a r Lear has cal led on the storm t o wipe out

f i r s t a l l vest iges of reason and then reason itself: i n a

fur ther descent he now invokes the storm t o destroy a l l l ife,

the source of reason, and f i n a l l y the e a r t h itself, the source

of l i f e r

And thou, all-shaking thunder,

S t r ike f l a t the th ick rotundity o o the world!

Crack Nature's moulds, a l l germens s p i l l a t once

That makes ingra tefu l man.

These a r e perhaps the most d i f f i c u l t and c r u c i a l l i n e s i n

this passage, ce r t a in ly the most of ten discussed. Herein

lies the mos t powerful plea f o r the destruct ion of order i n

a l l of Shakespeare's writings. Clearly anarchy t o Shakespeare

is an ultimate horror, f o r passages invoking chaos, couched

i n very s imi la r imagery, appear i n a number of h i s other

plays where they a r e spoken by f igures close to , o r a t , the

l i m i t s of t h e i r endurance, In Henry I V , Par t 11, Northumber-

land on hearing of the death of Hotspur, his son, speaks

these words :

L e t Heaven k i s s earth! Now let not Nature's band

Keep the wild flood confined! L e t order die! l4

(I. i. 153-154)

Macbeth, ridden by g u i l t and t e r r i f i e d of what the fu ture

may hold, invokes the supernatural powers of the keird

Sisters thus :

Though palaces and pyramids do slope

Their heads to their foundations; though the

treasure

Of nature's germens tumble all together,

Even till destruction sicken: answer me

To what I ask you. 15

(Macbeth. IV. i. 61-65)

However, while Macbeth merely states his willingness to

accept the destruction of natural order if that is what it

takes to fulfil his wishes (one suspects that little more

than rhetoric is involved here, though it is a rhetoric

inspired by deep terror) Lear is calling directly for such

destruction. The intensity of these lines can be better

appreciated when, as one critic suggests, one realizes the

importance of the concepts contained in them. "To trace the

concept of Nature's germens, rationes seminales, the basic

seeds of all living things, the stuff of creation, from St.

Augustine through Sts. Anselm and Bonaventure, Albertus Magnus

and Roger Bacon and Aquinas, is to be impressed, not so much

with the antiquity of that concept as with the reverence

accorded to it; and so with the magnitude, the more than

desperate abandon of the curse. d 6

"Nature's moulds," the concept of ideal forms, stems

of course from Plato's philosophy. Here, form and matter

were conceived as two distinct qualities, one being applied

to the other from without to produce material copies of ideal

forms. The concept of informed matter, matter possessing

within itself the seeds of creation, "nature's germens,"

evolved later through the complexities of Neoplatonism and

the teaching of St. ~ u ~ u s t i n e . ~ ~ The latter concept, with its

moral overtones (form or reason redeeming base matter from

within), permeated Elizabethan thinking on the subject of

nature. However, Shakespeare reintroduces the more purely

pagan "Nature's mouldsm here, in this essentially pagan play,

in order to strengthen Lear's plea for universal destruction:

"if moulds be allowed to represent form and qermains to represent.

the seeds in matter, or matter informed, it is clear that the

destruction is one of both form and matter, is in short the

condition of being and existence at the Last Judgement,"18

While on one level "Crack Nature's mouldst* and

"all germens spill at oncet* clash in that they recall, res-

pectively, the differing pagan and Christian Platonic con-

cepts of creation, on a lower level of meaning they combine

together and with the previous line to form a composite

~mage. "Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!"

can carry either the sense of the earth's complete

d e s t r u c t i o n o r , i f one accep t s t h e e a r t h a s a u n i v e r s a l

mother f i g u r e , t h a t of a womb, round i n pregnancy, miscarrying. -

Mould could then be taken f o r womb, a s it is i n these l i n e s

from Richard 11:

Ah, Gaunt, h i s blood was th ine! t h a t bed, t h a t

womb,

That m e t t l e , t h a t s e l f mould, t h a t fashioned thee

Made him a man.

( I ;ii. 22-24)

"Crack Nature 's mouldsn* c a r r i e s with it , then , the c l e a r

s e n s e of miscar r iaqe , abor t ion , o r simply, te rminat ion of t h e

process of c r e a t i o n , and, poss ib ly , d e s t r u c t i o n of i ts

mechanisms, and t h u s , s t e r i l i t y . If "Crackw is taken t o

mean snap o r s p l i t asunder, a s i n l i n e one, r a t h e r than merely

s t r i k e with a sha rp no i se , which it could mean ( S i r Thomas

Browne repor ted t h a t a sharp crack of thunder could cause a i

misca r r i age ) .19 t h e image of s t e r i l i t y and i r r e v o c a b l e y

: < - d e s t r u c t i o n of l i f e is complete, * * A l l germens s p i l l a t once," -

k ' ,.< - w i t h i ts connotat ions of masturbat ion, i n t e r r u p t e d copula t idn .l .

o r miscar r iage ( t h e l a s t c a r r i e d from **Crack Nature 's mouldsw)

makes t h e impression of s t e r i l i t y and f i n a l dea th t h a t t h e s e

l i n e s c a r r y overwhelming.

A l l t h e f u r y o f t h e s e n i n e l i n e s , unsurpassed i n

t h e i r i n t e n s i t y i n a l l of Shakespeare, Lear d i r e c t s a t one

target, "ingrateful man!" At this stage in the play, all

that occupies his mind is the ingratitude of his daughters; a

no thought does he spare for his own fallibility, his own

unjust and "unnatural" acts of the very first scene of the

play; he is still a man "more sinned against than sinningw

(III.ii.59). He is here only beginning to perceive, with

great difficulty, the error of his beliefs, his world picture

-- and his own vulnerability in the real scheme of things; the error of his acts will prove too much for his sanity to

accept. The horror of his daughters' ingratitude has plagued

him from the first scene of the play, growing in intensiky,

, particularly in his dialogues with Goneril and Regan, "In-

gratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, / More hideous, when

thou show'st thee in a child, / Than the sea-monsterw (1.i~.

267-269), and later "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it i i; - i ' % \ '

\\ \

is / To have a thankless child!" (1.iv.297-298) until it

rages through his mind, in this scene, as the storm rages

without, culminating in "Crack Nature's moulds, all germens

spill at once / That makes ingrateful man."

Inevitably, since universal destruction does not

ensue, the passages following this speech are of necessity

anticlimactic; first the fool's cowardly but prudent advice,

and then Learms following speech where he abdicates a second

time, this time from all claim to control of the elements.

Indeed, t h e imperat ive "Rumble t h y b e l l y f u l ! S p i t , f i rerw

un l ike t h e commands of t h e f i r s t passage, is r e a l l y more a

commentary on t h e n a t u r a l f u r y of t h e storm, r a t h e r than a c a l l

t o s u p e r n a t u r a l and daemonic fu ry . IQNor r a i n , wind, thunder,

f i r e , a r e my daughters ," a s w e l l a s express ing c l e a r l y h i s

d i sc la imer of a l l a u t h o r i t y over n a t u r e , sugges t s t h a t Lear

(momentarily r a t i o n a l a f t e r h i s e a r l i e r b u r s t of emotion)

recognizes t h e r e a l i t y af t h e storm, t h e f a c t t h a t it is

a n a t u r a l phenomenon t o t a l l y unre la ted t o h i s human predicament.

I n t h i s l i n e and t h e f i v e fol lowing, Lear is completely

r a t i o n a l , a s s e s s i n g a c c u r a t e l y h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p , o r r a t h e r non-

r e l a t i o n s h i p t o t h e storm. H i s language, l i k e C o r d e l i a t s i n

t h e first a c t , is completely l o g i c a l . Like h e r s y l l o g i s t i c

answer t o h e r f a t h e r , "Good my Lord, / You have begot m e , bred

m e , loved m e : I / Return those d u t i e s back a s a r e r i g h t f i t , /

Obey you, love you, and most honour youw ( I . i . 9 5 - 9 8 ) , L e a r e s

thoughts proceed i n a n a t u r a l and balanced manner. H i s opening

premise, "Nor r a i n , wind, thunder, fire, a r e my daughtersw

l e a d s l o g i c a l l y t o i ts c o r o l l a r y , [therefore] "1 [can] t a x

you n o t , you elements , with unkindnessw ( t h e unna tu ra l o r un-

f a m i l i a l behaviour of h i s daugh te r s ) . The n e x t two l i n e s

fol low almost e x a c t l y t h e p a t t e r n of h i s daughter ' s e a r l i e r

speech ( s u r e l y it must be running through h i s mind): "1 never

gave you kingdom, c a l l e d you c h i l d r e n , / [therefore] You owe

m e no s u b s ~ r i p t i o n . ~ Then, t h e i n e v i t a b l e conclusion; Lear

has l o g i c a l l y proceeded t o a c l e a r apprec ia t ion of t h e

v u l n e r a b i l i t y of h i s p o s i t i o n :

then l e t f a l l

Your h o r r i b l e p leasure ; here I s t a n d your

s l a v e ,

A poor, in f i rm, weak, and d e s p i s 9 d o l d man.

S.tripped of h i s power by h i s daughters , Lear is powerless,

a v ic t im o r "slave** o f t h e i n d i f f e r e n t elements.

The r a t i o n a l moment passes , however, and Lear

cont inues h i s descent from the mania of t h e f irst passage t o

t h e persecuted depress ion of t h e s e f i n a l l i n e s :

But y e t I c a l l you s e r v i l e m i n i s t e r s ,

That w i l l wi th two pe rn ic ious daughters join

Your high-engendered b a t t l e s ' g a i n s t a head

So o l d and w h i t e a s t h i s . 0, ho! ' t is f o u l ,

R e a l i t y is a s y e t too much f o r him; he withdraws i n t o h i s o l d

universe where t h e elements , l i k e human n a t u r e , can be

governed; on ly h e r e he sees t h e storm a s s e r v a n t , n o t t o him,

but t o h i s "pern ic ious daughters ." Lear @s o l d world-picture

has become hideous ly d i s t o r t e d t o him when he sees h i s un- '

j 1- -- *-

n a t u r a l c h i l d r e n occupying h i s own c e n t r a l p o s i t i o n i n it, and C-- t h i s , perhaps, is what f i n a l l y d r i v e s him over t h e b r ink i n t o

madness, a madness foreshadowed by h i s v i s i o n of the ungovern-

a b l e storm a s governed by h i s daughters , Th i s looks f o r -

ward t o h i s l a t e r scenes with t h e d i sgu i sed Edgar where h i s

obsession with " f i l i a l ing ra t i tude" h a s indeed become

i n s a n i t y , On f i rs t see ing t h e half-naked f i g u r e of Tom 0'

Bedlam, Lear assumes immediately t h a t an i d e n t i c a l f a t e has

b e f a l l e n him; noth ing else, s u r e l y , could account f o r h i s

miserable condi t ion: "Didst thou g ive a l l t o t h y daughters? /

And a r t thou come t o t h i s ? " (111.iv.48-49). The fus ion i n

Lear 's mind of t h e storm and h i s daughters appears i n h i s

choice o f t h e phrase "high-engenderedw t o d e s c r i b e t h e i r

conspiracy a g a i n s t him. Ensender connotes both t h e inorganic

w i l l o f t h e storm and t h e sexua l w i l l o f Goner i l and Regan.

Lear is s t i l l i n a mood t o a s c r i b e a l l e v i l and n a t u r a l

d i so rde r t o t h e s i n of f i l i a l i n g r a l i t u d e , f o r t h i s s i n is

a t once t h e instrument which s h a t t e r e d h i s o l d universe and

t h e window through which he pee r s i n t o t h e abyss of t h e new.

Only g radua l ly , and on ly i n a s t a t e of madness where p a s t

preconceptions and p r e j u d i c e s a r e set a s i d e , w i l l Lear be a b l e

t o a s s i m i l a t e t h e f u r t h e r h o r r o r s and b e a u t i e s of t h i s new

world.

I n t h e s e two passages which w e have examined it is c l e a r

t h a t t h e king 's r e l a t i o n s h i p t o t h e storm is a complex one.

On one l e v e l t h e storm e x t e r n a l i z e s t h e inner tu rmoi l of

Learns mind, a cond i t ion which he d e s c r i b e s l a t e r i n t h e

t h i r d a c t :

Thou'ldst shun a bear ;

But i f t h y f l i g h t l a y toward t h e r o a r i n g s e a ,

Thou' ldst m e e t t h e bear i* t h ' mouth, When t h e

mind's f t e e

The body's d e l i c a t e ; t h i s tempest i n my mind

Doth from my senses t a k e a l l f e e l i n g else

Save what b e a t s t h e r e -- f i l i a l i n g r a t i t u d e !

(111. i v . 9-14)

On another l e v e l , t h e l e v e l I have t r i e d t o b r i n g o u t i n

d i scuss ing t h e s e passages, t h e storm symbolizes t h e s h a t t e r i n g

of Lear ' s un ive r se , and h i s induct ion i n t o t h e r e a l world,

To conclude t h i s e s say I should l i k e t o examine how Shake-

speare prepares t h e audience t h e m a t i c a l l y f o r Lear 's complete

break wi th h i s o l d world which occurs i n t h e s e passages.

This can be done by looking a t t h e comments and d i scuss ion on

t h e s u b j e c t of n a t u r e made by such f i g u r e s a s Lear, Glouces ter ,

Edmund and t h e Foo l i n t h e f i r s t two a c t s of t h e p lay .

The t ragedy of Kinq Lear, l i k e t h a t of Hamlet,

is t h a t of a man, supremely w e l l f i t t e d t o p l a y one r o l e i n

l i f e , compelled t o p lay another q u i t e d i f f e r e n t r o l e , one

i n which h i s e r s t w h i l e t a l e n t s become f a t a l l i a b i l i t i e s .

Hamlet, t h e phi losopher , is placed i n a s i t u a t i o n where

a c t i o n is mandatory and specu la t ion d i s a s t r o u s ; Macbeth,the

courageous war r io r , f a l l s when, i n h i s f e a r of appearing

cowardly i n h i s w i f e ' s eyes , he murders Duncan; Othel lo , a

genera l who owes much of h i s m i l i t a r y success t o h i s w i s e

choice of a d v i s e r s , f a l l s when he al lows one of them t o ad-

v i s e him on a non-mil i tary mat ter ; Coriolanus, born n o t t o

sue , but t o command, is placed i n a p o s i t i o n where he must

( S i m i l a r l y , Lear, with a l l woo t h e populace f o r support .

t h e q u a l i t i e s of a king except , now i n h i s d e c l i n i n g yea r s ,

good judgement, chooses t o renounce k ingsh ip f o r a r o l e f o r

which h i s k ing ly q u a l i t i e s of p r i d e , honour and a u t h o r i t y

a r e most i l l - su i t ed . )

One of L e a r e s most k ing ly a s p e c t s is h i s b e l i e f i n

t h e o l d concept of n a t u r e , t h e benign, ordered and e s s e n t i a l l y

medieval n a t u r e of Bacon and Hooker, i n which t h e concept

o f kingship, t h e king a s t h e d i v i n e l y ordained r u l e r of t h e

body ~ o l i t i c , he ld a c e n t r a l p o s i t i o n . H e r e reason, d i v i n e l y

bestowed, he ld sway over t h e ind iv idua l j u s t a s t h e king

r u l e d t h e s t a t e , i ts purpose being, n o t t o compete wi th

n a t u r e , but t o s e r v e he r : "Each c r e a t u r e . under God, was

a se l f -mainta in ing * t h i s * . It was n o t p a r t o f a machine.

Rather , it was an i n t e l l i g e n c e observing its r i g h t f u l p lace

i n a community. What he ld it i n p lace and he ld t h e community

toge the r was Reason. The law it observed was f e l t more a s

se l f -express ion than a s e x t e r n a l r e s t r a i n t . I t was a law, i n

-any case, which the creature was most i t s e l f when it obeyed.

And rebel l ion against t h i s law was rebel l ion against onees

s e l f , l o s s of a l l nature, lapse in to chaos. It is t h i s

s o r t of nature, o r ra ther its trappings, which abounds i n the

long court scene of A c t I. Lear, having decided beforehand

on the --act of dividing h i s kingdom, c a r r i e s it L/

out i n a most seemly and proper manner. The map is cal led fo r ,

and Lear announces i n c l ea r but ceremonious language h i s pre-

cise intentions. The map r e a l l y symbolizes Lear's idealized

view of h i s kingdom: there it is on the map, divided in to

meticulously proportioned segments, a kingdom of "plenteous \

R

r i v e r s and wide-skirted meads," (1.i.65) with no suggestion

of the stormy heath of A c t 111. The r i t u a l of asking homage \ ' .

of each of h i s daughters, then bestowing on each her dowry of

land proceeds i n per fec t order u n t i l Cordeliaes f a t e f u l I

answer. No matter t h a t Goneriles and Regan's r e p l i e s a re

c l ea r ly insincere and in f l a t ed i n tone; they a r e i n perfect I

harmony with the empty r i t u a l of t h i s ceremony.

This scene brings t o mind Shakespearees e a r l i e r

plap, Richard 11. While only pa r t of t h i s one scene i n Kinq Lear

is r i t u a l , formality and ceremony pervade the whole of the

e a r l i e r play. The themes of both plays a re roughly comparable:

i n both kings renounce t h e i r r i g h t f u l posit ions, one out of

weariness and o ld age, the other out of weakness and s e l f -

pi ty ; i n both nature comes under much discussion. In Kinq Lear,

order quickly gives way t o chaos. In Richard 11, however,

though it f i n a l l y surrenders t o the pragmatism and opportunism

of Bolingbroke, t h i s play's Edmund, t he s p i r i t of the old order

is predominant. The mood of the play is symbolized by the

tournament scene where a l l the paraphernalia of medieval pomp

and pageantry is brought out i n display, but to no effects

the tournament is hal ted by Richard's royal command, Similarly,

throughout the play, Richard explains i n d e t a i l the l o f t y

significance of h i s posi t ion and the nature of his power,

but f a i l s t o make use of t h a t power; instead, he surrenders

it piecemeal, without a struggle t o Bolingbroke. Typical a r e

these l i n e s from h i s abdication scene;

Now, mark m e how I w i l l undo myself,

I give t h i s heavy weight from off my head,

And t h i s unwieldy sceptre from my hand,

The pr ide of kingly sway from out my hear t ;

With mine own t e a r s I wash away my balm,

With mine own hands I give away t h i s crown,

With mine own tongue deny my sacred s t a t e ,

With mine own breath re lease a l l duteous oaths;

A l l pomp and majesty I do forswear;

My manors, ren ts , revenues, I forgo;

- My ac t s , decrees, and s t a t u t e s I deny.

( I V . i. 202-213)

Each i t e m of power is carefu l ly l i s t e d and catalogued before

its surrender. In a sense, Richard I1 can be considered an

extensive valedictory t o the medieval concept of nature.

Richard, the l a s t king of legit imate descent, retires with

h i s court, the o ld order, before the Hobbesian Bolingbroke.

Life has gone out of t h i s old order; only the forms remain,

Similar ly i n the f i r s t scene of King I e a r only empty r i t u a l

remains of what may have been a highly e f fec t ive and benefi-

cent reign, It must be remembered t h a t the ceremony of asking

homage and d i s t r ibu t ing land i n re turn, so empty and f a l s e

here, where he t r e a t s h i s daughters a s feudal vassals, was

a standard r i t u a l of medieval kingship and, under the proper

conditions, one charged with meaning.'&aros t r a g i c mistake,

but one understandable i n a king, is i n t r e a t i n g fami l i a l

love on the same t e r m s a s feudal loyal ty Goneril and Regan, ) of course, have no feel ings , e i t h e r of love o r feudal loyal ty

towards t h e i r fa ther ; Cordelia, on the other hand, has love,

but recognizing the r i t u a l fo r what it is, o f f e r s only the

loyal ty of a vassal. Learos t r a g i c misreading of Cordeliams

reaction p rec ip i t a t e s the chaotic action of the play and s e t s

the king on h i s tortuous path toward self-knowledge,

Consider Cordel iaes f a t e f u l r e p l y t o Leares demand

f a r f i l i a 1

Lear .

Cor . Lear . C o r . Lear .

love :

what can you say t o draw

A t h i r d more opulent than your s i s t e r s ? Speak.

Nothing, my lo rd .

Nothing?

Nothing.

Nothing w i l l c o m e of nothing: speak again.

(1.i. 85-90)

Lea re s incredulous "Nothing?" may be t h e most important s i n g l e

word i n t h e play. How it is de l ive red on s t a g e should a f f e c t

a productiones e n t i r e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Kina Lear. 1 imagine

t h e word no t shouted i n p r o t e s t , bu t spoken i n a subdued tone,

expressing a sense of numbed, shocked d i s b e l i e f , Lea re s

whole universe of a r t i f i c e is challenged f o r t h e first t i m e ;

t h e word and the meaning he sees behind it th r ea t ens t o

"strike f l a t the t h i c k rotundity" of h i s world. J u s t a s t h e

word i t s e l f poses a t h r e a t t o Lear 's physica l universe

("nothingwt sugges ts t o t h e modern reader t h e seeming chaos

of modern t h e o r i e s of c r ea t i on ) its use by Cordelia Lear t akes

a s an a t t a c k on h i s moral universe -- . " T i l l you have drenched

our s t e ep l e s . " The king, l i k e t h e philosopher Hooker, t akes

c e r t a i n modes of behaviour a s proper and necessary f o r t h e

o rde r ly management of human soc i e ty , whether t h e family o r ,

t h e l a rge r body p o l i t i c , and t h e i r v io l a t i on a s unthinkable:

"Axioms , , s o manifest t h a t they requ i re no f u r t h e r proof,

a r e such a s these , 'God t o be worshipped'; 'parents t o be

honored'; 'o thers t o be used by us a s w e ourse lves would be

by them'. Such th ings , a s soon a s they a r e a l leged, a l l men

acknowledge t o be good; they requ i re no proof o r f u r t h e r

discourse t o be assured of t h e i r goodness." 22 Corde l iaes

rep ly not only suggests t o Lear t he p o s s i b i l i t y of her own

ingra t i tude (which, i n a s t a t e of shock he takes f o r cer-

t a i n t y ) , but a l s o c a l l s h i s a t t en t ion , f o r t he f i r s t time i n

h i s l i f e , t o t h e exis tence of such a v i c e a s f i l i a l i ng ra t i -

tude. The play 's i rony l ies i n t he f a c t t h a t t h e f a i t h f u l

Cordelia, by replying a s she has, inadver tent ly sets Lear on

a course t h a t leads him t o s u f f e r from t h i s c r i m e a t t he hands

of t he f a i t h l e s s Goneril and Regan.

The schism i n Lear 's mental universe, brought about

by Cordelia 's rep ly , is r e f l ec t ed i n h i s ensuing curse:

For, by t h e sacred radiance of t h e sun,

The mysteries of Hecate and t h e n igh t ,

By a l l t h e operat ion of t he orbs

From whom w e do e x i s t and cease t o be,

H e r e I disclaim a l l my pa te rna l ca re , . . (I. i .109-113)

These l i n e s a r e still couched i n t he language of medieval

n a t u r e ; y e t h e r e f o r t h e f i r s t t i m e t h e r e is t h e sugges t ion

o f c o n f l i c t between ordered n a t u r e , " the sac red rad iance of

t h e sun," and c h a o t i c n a t u r e , "The mys te r i e s of Hecate and

' the n igh t , " i n t e l l e c t and energy -- t h e Apollonian and Dio-

nys ian dichotomy of Nietzsche (Dionysian n a t u r e , of course,

is s t i l l myster ious t o Lear ) . Bacon sees t h e s e two a s p e c t s

of n a t u r e fused i n t h e f i g u r e of Pan, a s does mad Lear l a t e r

i n t h e play:

Down from t h e wa i s t they a r e Centaurs,

Though women a l l above;

But t o t h e g i r d l e do t h e Gods i n h e r i t ,

Beneath a l l is t h e f i e n d ' s . . . (IV.vi.126-129)

H e r e , of course, t h e k ing , purged by t h e storm, sees reason

and passion a s opposing,incompatible f o r c e s wi th in man, bu t

i n t h e e a r l i e r l i n e s Lear s t i l l s e e s them u n i t e d , c o n t r o l l e d

by Itthe opera t ion of t h e orbs." Nevertheless t h e sugges t ion

of p o t e n t i a l c o n f l i c t is c l e a r .

Conveniently, i n t h e scene between Edmund and

Gloucester which fo l lows, Shakespeare sets o u t t h e c o n t r a s t i n g

o l d and new concepts of na ture . A t f i r s t , Edmund sounds l i k e

a t r a d i t i o n a l i s t , "Thou, Nature, a r t my goddess; t o t h y law /

My s e r v i c e s a r e bound", However, it is soon c l e a r t h a t he is

n o t appeal ing t o t h e benign ordered n a t u r e of Lear o r

Gloucesterr Wherefore should I / Stand i n t h e plague of

custom, and permit / The c u r i o s i t y of na t ions t o deprive

m e . . . ? n (1 , i i . l - 4 ) . Edmundes goddess is the energy of the

storm, divorced completely from human a f f a i r s , the "plague

of customem h e nature within himself is energy o r passion

which h i s reason must serve, no t govern.\His subordinat ing - -

of reason t o passion is what d i s t ingu ishes Edmund from the

regenerate Lear of A c t V. Although i n the storm scene ("You

owe m e no subscr ip t ionw) and l a t e r i n t h e play ("Let

copulation t h r i v e w ) ( IV,v i , l l7 ) Leares concept of na ture be-

comes i d e n t i c a l with Edmundes, he w i l l eventual ly l ea rn from

Cordelia t h a t even i n such a world reason and humanity can

still subdue t h e passions within one, and t h a t man need no t

become a servant t o h i s animal nature, This is a lesson which

Edmund does no t learn . --.. '. Gloucesteres concept of nature , l i k e -ares , is

I --- \

based i k t r a d i t i o n and order , but , a l s o l i k e Lear, he is I -- - -- - - -- ,---- L-

beginning t o f i nd h i s world-picture inadequate t o cope with

r e a l i t y : "These l a t e e c l i p s e s i n t he sun and moon portend no

good t o us: though the wisdom of Nature can reason it thus and

thus , ye t Nature f i n d s itself scourged by the sequent effects,

Love cools , f r i endsh ip f a l l s o f f , brothers divides i n cities,

mutinies; i n countr ies , discord; i n palaces, t reason; and the

bond cracked ' twixt son and f a the rn (Iei i ,107-114). Sensing

t h e impending moral chaos around him, y e t bound t o t h e idea

t h a t n a t u r e is governed by i n t e l l e c t , he cannot escape t h e

conclusion t h a t t h e universe is w i l l i n g i ts own d e s t r u c t i o n .

I n t h e remainder of A c t I and i n A c t I1 Shakespeare

p o r t r a y s Lear a s a man, who "hath eve r bu t s l e n d e r l y known \

himsel fM (I . i .293-294) , who has given up a f i x e d p o s i t i o n i n I

1 a s t a b l e s o c i e t y , s t r i v i n g t o r ega in h i s bear ings i n a s o c i a l

,-' o r d e r now rendered c h a o t i c by h i s own a c t i o n . Although Lear -<'

t h e k ing is now becoming aware of t h e e x i s t e n c e wi th in him

of Lear t h e "unaccomodated man," t h i s new knowledge confuses

r a t h e r than e n l i g h t e n s him. Before h i s " f a l l w Lear was s u r e

of h i s p o s i t i o n i n t h e universe and h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p t o

na tu re ; now, however, both h i s p o s i t i o n and n a t u r e i t s e l f a r e

undefined. Right up u n t i l h i s f i n a l conf ron ta t ion wi th n a t u r e

i n t h e storm scene Lear c a s t s d e s p e r a t e l y about t r y i n g e i t h e r

t o r e - e s t a b l i s h h i s o l d r e l a t i o n s h i p s o r t o f i n d new ones,

and i n doing s o he s e e s n a t u r e i n many d i f f e r e n t g u i s e s and

h imsel f , r e l u c t a n t l y , a s nothing, "an 0 without a f i g u r e w

(I . iv .200-201) . However, he cannot y e t accept t h i s l a t t e r

v i s i o n even though t h e Fool keeps it c o n s t a n t l y i n h i s mind.

He does acknowledge t h a t ' n a t u r e wi th in him, i f n o t he wi th in

na tu re , has been turned upside down:

0 most smal l f a u l t ,

How ugly d i d s t thou i n Cordel ia show!

Which, l i k e an engine, wrench'd my frame of n a t u r e

From t h e f i x v d p lace , drew from my h e a r t a l l love,

And added t o t h e g a l l . 0 Lear, Lear, Lear!

Beat a t t h i s g a t e , t h a t l e t t h y f o l l y i n ,

And t h y dear judgement out!

( I , iv. 275-281)

I n d ismiss ing Cordel ia h e allowed passion wi th in him t o

o v e r r u l e reason, its r i g h t f u l master; y e t , immediately a f t e r

t h i s confession he r e p e a t s h i s e r r o r . J u s t a s he commanded

h i s cour t t o banish Cordel ia , he now commands n a t u r e t o

effect a much worse punishment on Goneri l :

Hear, Nature, hear! dear Goddess, hear!

Suspend t h y purpose, i f thou d i d s t in t end

To make t h i s c r e a t u r e f r u i t f u l !

I n t o h e r womb convey s t e r i l i t y !

Dry up i n h e r the organs of i n c r e a s e ,

And from h e r derogate body never s p r i n g

A babe t o honour her!

(I, iv. 284-290) \

Lear s t i l l s e e s n a t u r e i n h e r t r a d i t i o n a l r o l e of bea re r of

a l l l i f e and himself a s y e t possess ing t h e t r a d i t i o n a l

k ing ly power of invoking t h e elements. Y e t h e asks n a t u r e

t o do a most unnatura l th ing ; he c a l l s on t h e fer t i le b r inger

of l i f e t o @@convey s t e r i l i t y . " C lea r ly Lear ' s @#frame of

nature" has indeed been Mwrench*dn i f h e sees h e r now i n t h i s <.

unna tu ra l l i g h t . Again passion dominates reason a s the id6e

fixe of f i l i a l i n g r a t i t u d e t a k e s g r e a t e r and g r e a t e r

possession o f Lear 's mind. .--

W i t h G o n e r i l v s t r eachery , o n l y Regan remains t o

Lear a s a f i x e d p o i n t i n t h e r i s i n g chaos of h i s emotions,

Despera te ly he c l i n g s t o t h e i l l u s i o n t h a t s h e w i l l provide

a r e fuge f o r him, t h a t h e r " tender-hefted na turevv w i l l soothe

away a l l h i s wra th fu l f e e l i n g s t h a t t h r e a t e n t o s p i l l over

i n t o madness :

NO, Regan, thou s h a l t never have my curse :

Thy tender-hefted n a t u r e s h a l l n o t g i v e

Thee o ' e r t o harshness: her eyes a r e fierce, but

t h i n e

Do comfort and n o t burn. ' T i s n o t i n t h e e

To grudge my p leasures , t o c u t o f f my t r a i n ,

To bandy h a s t y words, t o s c a n t my s i z e s ,

And, i n conclusion t o oppose t h e bolt

Against my coming i n : thou better know'st

The o f f i c e s of na tu re , bond of childhood,

E f f e c t s of cour tesy , dues of g r a t i t u d e . . . (11, i v , 172-181)

Lear , s t r i v i n g t o see i n Regan a l l t h e b e s t a s p e c t s of benign

n a t u r e , has c l e a r l y s t aked a l l h i s hopes on he r . But when she

den ies him by s i d i n g with Goner i l , she d e l i v e r s a blow t h a t

a l l bu t t e a r s him asunder: "0 s ides ! you a r e too tough; /

W i l l you y e t hold?" (II.iv.199-200). Denied by Regan, Lear

v e e r s away from h i s o l d concept of " tender-hefted n a t u r e w

which he had prayed would be v ind ica ted i n h e r , H e begins t o

see n a t u r e through EdmundVs eyes, a s a p o t e n t i a l l y h o s t i l e

f o r c e , independent of h i s c o n t r o l . Now, r e j e c t e d again by

Goneri l , i n s t e a d of c a l l i n g n a t u r e ' s wrath down on h e r f o r

t h e t h i r d t i m e , he merely reminds h i s daughter of i ts

e x i s t e n c e and p o t e n t i a l fury : "Let shame come when it w i l l ,

I do n o t c a l l it; / I do n o t b i d t h e thunder-bearer shoot , /

Nor t e l l t a l e s of t h e e t o high- judging Jove4 ( 11, i v , 228-230). _-__A-

---

F i n a l l y , j u s t before h i s depar tu re i n t o t h e storm, , I /

Lear, denied everyth ing by both daughters , makes t h i s l a s t , i I

ambiguous appeal t o n a t u r e :

You Heavens, g ive m e t h a t pa t i ence , pa t i ence I

need, -- ,/ ,

You see m e h e r e , you Gods, a poor o l d man,

A s f u l l of g r i e f a s age; wretched i n both!

H e c a l l s on benign n a t u r e t o h e l p him remain r a t i o n a l ; bu t

then h i s p o i n t of view s h i f t s :

I f it be you t h a t stirs t h e s e daughters* h e a r t s

Against t h e i r f a t h e r , f o o l m e n o t s o much

To bear it tamely; touch m e wi th noble anger . . . (11. iv. 273-278)

If n a t u r e does c o n s i s t of Edmund's pass ion and energy, then

l e t it f i l l Lear wi th anger, j u s t a s it h a s f i l l e d h i s

daughters with greed and i n g r a t i t u d e . The d u a l i t y of t h e s e

l i n e s hearkens back t o L e a r q s o r i g i n a l curse , ''For, by t h e

sacred radiance of t h e sun, / The mys te r i e s of Hecate and

t h e n i g h t . . ." Lear ' s ensuing anger, "1 w i l l do such

th ings , / What they a r e , y e t I know n o t , b u t t h e y s h a l l be /

The t e r r o r s of t h e e a r t h w (11.iv.282-284) comes n o t from t h e

heavens but from wi th in ; s i m i l a r l y , L e a r 9 s ensuing f u r y i n

A c t I11 comes from wi th in h imsel f : h i s is n o t a - rage i n s p i r e d

by heaven, b u t a n a t u r a l f u r y from wi th in c o n t e s t i n g t h e

cosmic f u r y without . Throughout A c t 11, and p a r t i c u l a r l y

i n t h i s f i n a l scene, Lear has been walking t h e f i n e l i n e

between madness and s a n i t y , f u r y and calm reason. Regan says

r i g h t l y about h e r f a t h e r , "Nature i n you s t a n d s on t h e ve ry

verge / O f he r confine!" (1l.iv.148-149). Now n a t u r e wi th in

t h e k ing is about t o break o u t i n f u r y and madness; and

b a r withj.n n a t u r e is about t o break o u t of t h e conf ines of

his o l d concept of t h e universe t o embrace t h e Dionysian

energy of t h e storm, and t o understand t h e u l t i m a t e gulf 1

s e p a r a t i n g r a t i o n a l man from tempestuous na tu re .

I I

The storm thus marks Leares f i n a l break from the j

o ld order, re-enacting on a cosmic physical plane what

ha6 already occurred on a moral l eve l within Lear's mind;

the raging elements match and quicken the turbulence within

the king, bringing h i s obsession w i t h h i s daughter's in-

gra t i tude t o a fever pi tch, and pitching h i s mind over the

brink i n t o madness. ,.---

NOTES

l~illiam Shakespeare, Kinq Lear, ed. Kenneth Muir ( 1952 ; rpt. London: Methuen, 1964), pp.106-107. All subsequent references to this play are cited in the text. Line numbers given refer to this edition.

'G. Wilson Knight, *The Lear Universesw in The Wheel of Fire; Interpretations of Shakespearian Traqedy, with Three New essays, by G. Wilson Knight, 5th ed. (New Yorkr Meridian Books, 1957), p.201.

3~eorge W. Williams, -The Poetry of the Storm in Kina LearSw Shakespeare Quarterly, 2 (1951), p.62. Williams draws particular attention to the novel dissonance of these lines.

he Oxford Enqlish Dictionary; being a Corrected Re-issue with an Introduction, Supplement, and Biblioqraphy of a New Enqlish Dictionary on Historical Principles, ed. James A.H. Murray, Henry Bradley, W.A. Craigie, C.T. Onions (1933; rpt. Oxfords Clarendon Press, 1961). All-s&seqWRf - a%mss5pn.-af the varhus meanings of words in this wesage i s - b a s e d on definitions Pot;tRd --in-&his work.

'~ohn Milton, Paradise Last, ed. ~erritt Y. Hughes (New Yorkr Odyssey Press, 1935). p.385.

7~illiams, .p.66. Williams points out in a footnote that whurricanow is used in the sense of a descending spout in Troilus and Cressida, however.

'avid, Metamorphoses, I. 274-275. Cited in Williams, p. 66.

lo~illiam Shakespeare, Richard 11, ed. Peter Ure (1956; rpt. London: Methuen, 1966), p.99. Subsequent references to this play are cited in the text. Line numbers given refer to this edition.

l1william Shakespeare, King Lear , ed. Horace Howard Furness (1880; rpt. New Yorkt Dover, 1963), p.171 n.

12s. K. Heninger , Jr . , *Shakespearee 6 Kina Lear , 111, ii ,109. " Explicator, 15, Noel (October, 1956), item 1.

13~eninger, loc. cite

l4~il1iaro Shakespeare, Kinq Henry IV, Pt. 11, ed. A.R. Humphreys (Londonr Methuen, 1966), p.15.

15william Shakespeare, Macbeth, ed. Kenneth Muir (londont Methuen, 1953). p.151.

16~ussell A. Fraser, Shakespeare's Poetics in Relation to Kinq Lear (London: Routledge, 1962), p.62.

171 fuller discussion of this topic can be found in Fraser, and in W.C. Curry, Shakespearees Philosophical Patterns (Baton Rouges Louisiana State University Press, 1937)1, pp. 29-49.

20~lder Olson, Traqedy and the Theory of Drama (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1961), p.202.

"~ohn F. Danby, Shakespearees Doctrine of Nature ( 1948; rpt. Inndont Faber, 1961), p.25.

22~ichard Hooker, The Laws of ~cclesiastical Polity, Bk,I,viii,3-5. Cited in Danby, p.27.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

- Texts and reference works.

Milton, John. Paradise Lost. Ed. Merritt Y. Hughes, New Yorkr Odyssey Press, 1935.

The Oxford Enal ish Dictionary; beinq a Corrected Re-issue with an Introduction, Supplement, and Biblioqraphy of a New Enal ish Dictionary on Historical Pr inciples . Ed. James A.H. Murray, Henry Bradley, W.A. Craigie, C.T. Onions. 1933; r p t . Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961.

Shakespeare, William. Kinq Henry I V , Pt. 11. Ed; A.R. Humphreys. London: Methuen, 1966.

Shakespeare, W i l l i a m . Kinq Lear. Ed. Kenneth ~ u i r . 1952; rpt. London: Methuen, 1964,

Shakespeare, William. Kinq Lear. Ed. Horace Howard Furness. 1880; r p t . New York: Dover, 1963.

Shakespeare, W i l l i a m . ~ i n q Richard 11. Ed. Peter U r e . 1956; rp t . Londonr Methuen, 1966.

Shakespeare, William. Macbeth. Ed. Kenneth Muir. London: Methuen, 1953.

Works c i t ed .

Curry, W.C. Shakespearees ~ h i l o s o p h i c a l Pat terns. Baton Rouge: Louisiana S t a t e University Press, 1937.

Danby, John F. Shakespearees Doctrine of Nature. 1948; r p t . London r Faber , 1961.

Fraser, Russell A. Shakespeare's Poetics in Relation to King Lear. London: Routledge, 1962.

Her-inger, S. K. Jr. ?Shakespeare's King Lear, 111,ii, 1-9. " Explicator, 15, No. 1 (October, l956), item 1.

Knight, G. Wilson. "The - Lear Universe." The Wheel of Fire; Interpretations of Shakespearian Traqedy, vith Three New Essays, by G. Wilson Knight. 5th ed. New York: ~eridian Books, 1957. pp.177-206.

Olson, Elder. Traqedy and the Theory of Drama. ~etroit: Wayne State University Press, 1961.

Williams, George W. "The Poetry of the Storm in Kins Lear." Shakespeare Quarterly, 2 (1951), 57-71.

Works consulted.

Baldwin, T.W. "Nature's Moulds." Shakespeare Quarterly, 3 (1952), 237-241.

Bonheim, Helmut, ed. The Kinq Lear Perplex. San Francisco: Wadsworth, 1960.

Campbell, Lily B. Shakespeare's Traqic Heroes: Slaves of Passion. 1930; rpt. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1960.

Clemen, Wolfgang. The Development of Shakespeare's Imaqery. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1951.

Dunn, E. Catherine. "The Storm in Kinq Lear." Shakespeare Quarterly, 3 (1952), 329-333.

Evans, Ifor. The Lanquaqe of Shakcspeare*~ Plays. London : Methuen, 1965.

F'luch>re, Henri. Shakespeare and the Elizabethans. Trans. Guy Hamilton. New York: Hill and Wang, 1956.

Heilma~, Robert Bechtold. This Great Staqe. 1948; r p t . Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1963.

Holland, Norman N. The Shakespearian Imaaination . New York: ~acmillan, 1964.

Khight, G. Wilson. The Shakespearian Tempest. 3d ed. London: H. Milford, 1953.

Mack, Maynard. King Lear in our Time. Berkeley: university of California Press, 1965.

Tillyard, E.M.W. Shakespeare's History Plays. 1944; rpt. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1964.

Watkins, W.R.C. Shakespeare and Spenser. 1950; rpt. Cambridge, Mass. : Walker-de Berry, 1961.

PAPER 111 THE ECCENTRIC HERO IN DRYDEN'S HEROIC PLAYS

Among t h e many c r i t i c a l problems confront ing t h e

s-tudent of John Dryden's h e r o i c p lays is t h e ques t ion of

h i s ambiguous a t t i t u d e t o h e r o i c cha rac te r . For while w e

can c l e a r l y a s c e r t a i n i n h i s t rea tment of h i s dramat ic

heroes a conscious commitment t o s o c i e t y and a b e l i e f i n i ts

necessary precedence over t h e i n d i v i d u a l , we cannot overlook

c e r t a i n important passages i n h i s e s says p r e f a t o r y t o t h e s e

p lays , and i n t h e p lays themselves which suggest an almost

romantic attachment t o t h e i c o n o c l a s t i c hero who can s t and

independent, a p a r t from s o c i e t y . Consider t h i s passage from

a letter ded ica t ing The Conquest of Granada t o t h e Duke

of York: '

I have formed a Heroe, I confess , no t a b s o l u t e l y p e r f e c t , but of an excess ive and overboyling courage: bu t Homer and Tasso a r e my p ~ e c e d e n t s . Both t h e Greek and t h e I t a l i a n poet had we l l con- s i d e r e d t h a t a tame Heroe who never t r a n s g r e s s e s bounds of moral v e r t u e would s h i n e bu t dimly i n an Epick poem, The s t r i c t n e s s of those Rules might well g ive p recep t s t o t h e Reader, but would adminis te r l i t t l e of occasion t o t h e w r i t e r . But a c h a r a c t e r of an excent r ique v e r t u e is t h e more exac t Image of humane l i f e , because he is n o t wholly exempted from t h e f r a i l t i e s . Such a person is Almanzor. , . . 1

and t h i s more famous passage from h i s p re face , O f Heroic

P lays :

You see how l i t t l e t h e s e g r e a t Authors [~omer, as sol d id esteem the po in t of Honour, s o much magnify'd by t h e French, and s o r i d i c u l o u s l y a p e d by us. They made t h e i r Hero's men of honour; but s o , a s n o t t o d i v e s t them q u i t e of humane passions and f r a i l t i e s . They contented themselves t o shew you, what men of

g r e a t s p i r i t s would c e r t a i n l y do when t h e y w e r e provok'd, n o t what they w e r e o b l i g e d t o do by t h e strict r u l e s of moral v e r t u e ; f o r my own p a r t , I d e c l a r e my s e l f f o r Homer and Tasso; and am more i n love with A c h i l l e s and Rinaldo than wi th Cyrus and Oroondates. I s h a l l never s u b j e c t my c h a r a c t e r s t o t h e French s tandard; where Love and Honour a r e t o be weighed by drachms and s c r u p l e s ; y e t where I have designed t h e p a t t e r n s of exac t v e r t u e , such a s i n t h i s p l a y of ~ r a n a d a ] a r e t h e p a r t s of Almahide, of Ozmyn, and Benzayda, I may s a f e l y chal lenge the best of t h e i r s .2

I n o r d e r t o r e c o n c i l e with h i s e s s e n t i a l l y conservat ive

view of s o c i e t y , and the p lace of t h e i n d i v i d u a l wi th in it,

Drydenes romantic a t t i t u d e t o h e r o i c c h a r a c t e r , a s i l l u s -

t r a t e d by t h e s e passages and exemplif ied by h i s e f f o r t s t o

b r i n g t o t h e s t a g e an epic hero modelled n o t , a s one might

expect , on Agamemnon, Aeneas or Tasso's Goffredo, a l l s taunch

defenders of t h e s o c i a l o r d e r , but upon t h e i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c

and e s s e n t i a l l y t r a q i c Achilles, w e should exp lo re b r i e f l y

t h e development of h e r o i c c h a r a c t e r i n t h e e p i c t r a d i t i o n

which Dryden i n h e r i t e d from h i s predecessors .

Torquato Tasso, though w r i t i n g a century e a r l i e r

than Dryden, and i n another country, worked i n a ve ry

s i m i l a r l i t e r a r y environment. Both concerned themselves

wi th t h e same l i t e r a r y problems: f i r s t , how t o g ive form,

d i r e c t i o n and c r i t i c a l j u s t i f i c a t i o n t o a developing ver-

nacu la r e p i c t r a d i t i o n so t h a t it might be better a b l e t o

c e l e b r a t e t h e growing s p i r i t of na t ional i sm i n Europe with

i ts increased emphasis on s o c i a l o rde r ; second, how t o

p r e s e n t , wi th in t h e conf ines of such a form, a hero who

m l ~ . l d r e t a i n h i s i n d i v i d u a l i t y and remain a f i g u r e worthy

o f admiration. ' The evo lu t ion of t h e e p i c hero from c l a s s -

i c a l a n t i q u i t y down t o t h e h e r o i c poems of Tasso and t h e

p l a y s of Dryden i s t h e s t o r y of a cons tan t s t r u g g l e t o impose ?

t h e necessary moral r e s t r a i n t s of s o c i e t y upon an h e r o i c

temperament without des t roy ing t h e p r i m i t i v e energy of t h a t

temperament, t h e e s s e n t i a l q u a l i t y which makes it h e r o i c e 4

Tasso at tempted t o show, i n h i s criticism, t h a t

the l o o s e l y s t r u c t u r e d , e p i s o d i c romanzi o f h i s predecessors ,

Boiardo and Ar ios to , though they d i f f e r e d g r e a t l y , par-

t i c u l a r l y i n t h e i r emphasis on t h e s e v e r a l e x p l o i t s of a

hero , r a t h e r than a s i n g l e un i fy ing a c t i o n , d i d deserve c o m -

~ a r i s o n with t h e c l a s s i c a l e p i c ; i n Gerusalemme Libe ra ta he

t r i e d t o show that . t h e formal elements of t h e c l a s s i c a l e p i c

could be combined wi th t h e f a n c i f u l q u a l i t i e s o f t h e I t a l i a n

romanzo t o produce a s u c c e s s f u l modern e p i c o r , a s Tasso termed

h i s work, a h e r o i c poem. The t h r e e primary f i g u r e s o f h i s poem,

Goffredo, Tancredi and Rinaldo, possess , among them, v i r t u a l l y

a l l p o s s i b l e elements of t h e h e r o i c temperament t h a t had

appeared i n e p i c l i t e r a t u r e up t o t h a t t ime.

Goffredo is t h e hero a s l eader of a g r e a t e n t e r p r i s e .

Tasso d e s c r i b e s him thus i n a preface t o h i s poem:'

Godfrey, which of a l l t h e assembly is chosen c h i e f t a i n , s t a n d s f o r understanding, and p a r t i c - u l a r l y f o r t h a t understanding which cons idere th , n o t t h e t h i n g s necessary, but t h e mutable and which may d i v e r s e l y happen, and those by t h e w i l l o f God. And of p r i n c e s he is chosen c a p t a i n of t h i s e n t e r p r i s e because understanding i s of God, and of n a t u r e made l o r d over the o t h e r v i r t u e s o f t h e s o u l and body, and commands these, one wi th c iv i l power, t h e o t h e r wi th r o y a l command. Rinaldo, Tancredi, and t h e o t h e r p r i n c e s a r e i n l i e u of t h e o t h e r powers of t h e Soul , and t h e Body h e r e becomes n o t i f i e d by t h e s o l d i e r s less noble. 5

Goffredo, then, descended a s he is from Agamemnon and

Aeneas, is t h e p e r f e c t "regular" hero, the blameless p a t t e r n

of a l e a d e r , t o paraphrase a l a t e r d e s c r i p t i o n , by Dryden, of

a s i m i l a r f i g u r e , Aureng-Zebe. Y e t , a s C.M. Bowra p o i n t s o u t ,

i n an essay on Tasso, t h e r e a r e l i m i t s on Goffredo's s t a t u r e

a s a hero. "Since Goffredo is the commander of a C h r i s t i a n

army, h i s t a s k has a s p e c i a l c h a r a c t e r , H e is no t a knight of

t h e o l d kind who can pursue prowess t o h i s h e a r t ' s content .

H i s duty is t o command h i s army and t o conduct t h e campaign.

H i s heroism is l i m i t e d by h is pos i t ion . . . ."b Tancredi and

Rinaldo, free of t h e r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s of command, a r e better

a b l e t o r e a l i z e t h e i r f u l l h e r o i c p o t e n t i a l ,

Tancredi ' s love f o r Clorinda, h i s l o y a l t y t o

Rinaldo, and h i s s e v e r a l impressive f e a t s of s i n g l e combat,

show him t o be an admirable hero, though more " regu la rw than

t h e temperamental Rinaldo. Related a s he is t o t h e c o u r t l y

y e t bat t le-worthy C h r i s t i a n heroes of t h e romances of Boiardo

and Ar ios to , he is kept i n check through h i s adherence t o t h e i r

codes of C h r i s t i a n c h i v a l r y and c o u r t l y love. Only i n Rinaldo

do we have a genuine echo of t h e p r i m i t i v e energy of t h e

Herculean hero. I have borrowed t h i s t e r m from Eugene Waith's

s tudy, The Herculean Hero i n Marlowe, Chapman, Shakespeare and

Dryden. Waith provides a good explanat ion of t h i s t e r m i n t h e

fol lowing d e s c r i p t i o n of t h e p a r t i c u l a r n a t u r e of Hercules'

heroism:

Although Hercules has o f t e n been thought of a s the hero t h e embodiment of what is q u i n t e s s e n t i a l l y -9

h e r o i c , h i s c a r e e r is n o t a paradigm of t h e c a r e e r of a l l heroes. I t r e v e a l s a s t r e n g t h and f i e r c e n e s s which r e l a t e him more c l o s e l y t o t h e Ach i l l e s who r e f u s e s t o be reconci led with t h e Greeks, f o r example, o r t h e Ajax who commits s u i c i d e t o defend h i s h e r o i c r e p u t a t i o n than t o t h e Odysseus who wins o u t through cunning o r t h e Aeneas who s a c r i f i c e s himself t o t h e g r e a t purpose -of founding Rome. Cer ta in of t h e g r e a t warr ior heroes , then, a r e more nHerculeanm than o t h e r s , but Hercules d i f f e r s ( i n important ways) from even those who resemble him most c lose ly . "This is no Ach i l l e s , " s a y s R.C. Jebb, emphasizing t h e d i f f e r e n c e s , "no image of t h a t c h i v a l r y which Aeolian legend had de l inea ted and Ionian poe t ry adorned. . . he has never known such t e a r s a s came i n t o t h e eyes of t h e young Achaean war r io r , when t h e aged king of Troy, kneel ing a t h i s f e e t , k i s sed t h e hand t h a t had s l a i n Hector." Hercules, t h e Dorian hero, is a more p r i m i t i v e embodiment of a re te ' than Ach i l l e s . H e i s incapable, a s Jebb sugges ts , of t h e scene with Priam, and is even more r igorous , more god-l ike, i n h i s wrath. In Hercules t h e core of p r i m i t i v e s t r e n g t h , never completely transmuted by t h e r e f i n i n g power of more c i v i l i z e d i d e a l s , is touched with t h e s t range- ness and mystery which belong t o a demigodO7

Tasso, and Dryden, would know Hercules, n o t o n l y a s a f i g u r e

of c l a s s i c a l mythology, bu t a l s o from h i s appearance i n t h e

Heracles of Eur ip ides and t h e Trachidae of Sophocles, o r

t h e i r Roman c o u n t e r p a r t s , Seneca's Hercules Furens and h i s

Hercules Oetaeus.

Seneca, i n Hercules Oetaeus , fo l lows Sophocles'

t rea tment of t h e he ro ' s s u f f e r i n g i n t h e poisoned s h i r t of

Nessus; however, he draws h i s c h a r a c t e r s i n a f a r c ruder

manner: Deianira is t h e c h r o n i c a l l y jealous w i f t e , r a t h e r than

a woman who, a c t i n g on a momentary impulse, c a u s e s h e r

husband's t r a g i c dea th ; Hercules, who does n o t appear u n t i l

towards t h e end of t h e Trachidae, opens t h i s p l a y with a

h e r o i c r a n t which would n o t be o u t of p lace i n a Dryden play,

and cont inues i n t h e same bombastic ve in through t o t h e f i n a l

scenes. Indeed t h e p lay , l i k e a l l of Seneca's t r a g e d i e s , is

a v e s s e l f o r o r a t o r y r a t h e r than a c t i o n , and has much more i n

common wi th t h e Res to ra t ion h e r o i c p l a y than wi th Greek

t ragedy. Most important , from our p o i n t of view, it p r e s e n t s ,

f o r Tasso ' s and Dryden's inspec t ion , a bo ld ly , i f c rudely ,

drawn p o r t r a i t of t h e a rche typa l e c c e n t r i c hero which, i f

it l a c k s t h e spon tane i ty of Sophocles' model, l acks nothing

of i ts f o r c e and c l a r i t y .

Hercules appears , throughout t h e p lay , t o t a l l y

preoccupied w i t h h i s own g rea tness . Typical is a " ran tw

d e l i v e r e d t o t h e heavens i n t h e midst of h i s s u f f e r i n g :

Hercules: Turn back, 0 sh in ing Sun, t h y pant ing s t e e d s , and l e t loose t h e n i g h t ; le t t h i s day wherein I d i e p e r i s h f o r t h e world, and l e t heaven shudder i n t h e p i t c h y dark. So thwar t my stepdame. Now, f a t h e r , were it f i t t i n g t o r e s t o r e b l i n d chaos; now t h i s s i d e and t h a t should heaven's frame be b u r s t and both p o l e s r e n t asunder. Why d o s t thou s p a r e the s t a r s ? Thou a r t l o s i n g Hercules , 0 f a t h e r . Now, J u p i t e r , look w e l l t o every p a r t of heaven, .lest any Gyas h u r l Thessa l ian c r a g s and Othrys become a s l i g h t missile f o r Enceladus. Now, now w i l l haughty P lu to open h i s dark p r i s o n g a t e s , s t r i k e o f f h i s f a t h e r ' s cha ins and g ive h i m back t o heaven, S ince I t h y son, who on e a r t h have been i n p lace of t h y bolt and l i g h t - n ing f l a s h , am t u r n i n g m e back t o Styx, Encel- adus, t h e f i e r ~ e ~ w i l l rise, and t h e mass 'nea th which he now is crushed w i l l he h u r l a g a i n s t t h e gods; yea, f a t h e r , t h y whole realm of a i r w i l l my dea th p u t t o hazard. Then ere thou a r t u t t e r l y despoi led of heaven, bury m e , f a t h e r , 'nea th t h e whole ruined world; s h a t t r t h e skies which thou a r t doomed t o l o s e . f

( l ines 1131-1150)

H e r e indeed, one can sense the mystique of the demigod t o

which Waith a l l u d e s i n h i s c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of Hercules.

Because Hercules, un l ike Rinaldo o r Almanzor, has such a

v a s t t r a d i t i o n of myth behind him, h i s ex t ravagant speeches,

l i k e t h e one c i t e d above, have a r i n g of convic t ion about

them which n a t u r a l l y could n o t be matched i n t h e i r heroes by

e i t h e r Tasso o r Dryden. Y e t it was j u s t t h i s e f f e c t t h a t

Dryden wished t o achieve i n h i s h e r o i c p lays , p a r t i c u l a r l y

The Conquest of Granada.

Rinaldo, c l e a r l y , r e p r e s e n t s Tasso l s conception

of the Herculean hero. H e is t h e most " i r r egu la r1 ' of the

three, and it is probable t h a t Tasso took a grea ter i n t e r e s t

i n him than he did i n Goffredo o r Tancredi. Certainly

Dryden did. A s t h i s summing up of h i s character by Bowra

indicates he is both a d i r e c t descendent of Achilles and

an important model f o r Dryden's Almanzorr

Rinaldo d i f f e r s from Tancredi i n being not a cour t ie r but a romantic adventurer. . , . In h i s independence, h i s sense of personal honour, and h i s youthful ardour, he is an uneasy subord- ina te , H e cannot endure insu l t s , and i n h i s high temper he k i l l s Gernando. H i s pr ide prevents him from accepting punishment, and it is character- ist ic of him t h a t he goes off alone t o seek ad- venture i n foreign lands. , , . Even before h i s departure Rinaldo has shown t h a t he is the bes t of the Crusaders i n b a t t l e , and when he re turns , s p i r i t u a l l y strengthened and reformed, he performs prodigies of valour. . , . Rinaldo is the crusader who comes nearest t o being a hero i n the o ld sense. H e has the heroic pride and sense of honour, but i n him these a r e eventually curbed and discipl ined u n t i l they a r e turned t o the use of h i s Christ ian cause, although they lose none of t h e i r f ie rce- ness i n the ac tua l f ighting.

Within the ep ic t r ad i t ion , the heroes of Geru-

salemme Liberata were the c loses t r e a l examples Dryden had

upon which t o model h i s own heroes. Unlike the perfect ly

formed paragons i n the romances of de scuddry and La Cal-

pren'ede, wri t ten only shor t ly before Dryden wrote h i s heroic

tragedies, Goffredo, Tancredi and Rinaldo r e f l e c t t h e i r

c rea to res concern with the problem of the **irregularw

hero, and the larger , but re la ted l i t e r a r y question of

s t r i k i n g a balance between the creat ive imagination

. (necessary f o r the creat ion of an A c h i l l e s , a Rinaldo o r

any compelling heroic character) and an adherence t o

established l i t e r a r y convention -- spec i f i ca l ly the elaborate

l i t e r a r y codes of l a t e Renaissance I t a l y and seventeenth

century England -- believed necessary t o keep such heroes

su i t ab le a s moral examples f o r the reader. The problem of

imagination versus l i t e r a r y convention affected Dryden a s

strongly a s it did Tasso, more s t rongly perhaps, and h i s

e f f o r t s t o come t o gr ips with it can be seen a l l through h i s

writing, pa r t i cu la r ly i n h i s e a r l y c r i t i c i s m and i n h i s

heroic plays.

One of the minor l i t e r a r y issues of the age i n

w h i c h Dryden was writing, but one which shows c lea r ly the

c r i t i c a l temper of the period, was the question of whether

the rhymed couplet was a su i t ab le medium f o r the ser ious

play. Dryden addressed himself t o t h i s question on several

occasions, and i n his various comments upon the subject w e

can see the grea t d i f f i c u l t i e s he had i n facing the larger

i ssue of the imagination versus l i t e r a r y convention.

Originally, i n defending its p a r t i a l use i n The R i v a l Ladies,

Dryden pra ises the couplet a s a device for control l ing the

poet's imagination:

For imagination i n a poet is a f acu l ty so wild and lawless, t h a t l i k e an high-ranging spaniel , it must have clogs t i e d t o it, l e s t it outrun the judgement. The grea t easiness of blank verse renders

t h e poet too l u x u r i a n t ; he is tempted t o s a y many t h i n g s , which might b e t t e r be omi t ted , o r a t l e a s t shuk up i n fewer words; but when t h e d i f f i c u l t y o f a r t f u l rhyming is in te rposed , where t h e poet commonly conf ines h i s sense t o h i s coup le t , and must c o n t r i v e t h a t sense i n t o such words, t h a t t h e rhyme s h a l l n a t u r a l l y fo l low them, n o t t h e y the rhyme; the fancy then g i v e s l e i s u r e f o r t h e judgement t o come i n , which, see ing s o heavy a t a x imposed, is ready t o c u t o f f a l l un- necessary expenses. 10

However, when h i s critics, p a r t i c u l a r l y S i r Robert Howard,

argued t h a t t h e rhymed coup le t curbed, n o t excess ive fancy,

but n a t u r a l d i scourse i n t h e s e r i o u s p lay , Dryden responded,

n o t by s t r eng then ing h i s defence of the coup le t a s a means

of r e s t r a i n i n g fancy and t h u s lending a sober and more moderate

tone t o s t a g e d ia logue , but by e x a l t i n g t h e p o s i t i o n of t h e

s e r i o u s p lay and arguing t h a t its l o f t y p o s i t i o n can best be

maintained through its use :

This l a s t is indeed t h e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n of Nature, bu t 'tis Nature wrought up t o an h igher p i t c h . The p l o t , t h e c h a r a c t e r s , t h e w i t , the pass ions , t h e d e s c r i p t i o n s &f a s e r i o u s play] a r e a l l e x a l t e d above t h e l e v e l o f common converse, a s h igh a s t h e imagination of t h e poet can c a r r y them, wi th propor t ion t o v e r i s i m i l i t y . Tragedy, w e know, is wont t o image t o u s the minds and f o r t u n e s of noble persons, and t o p o r t r a y t h e s e e x a c t l y ; h e r o i c rhyme is n e a r e s t Nature, a s being t h e n o b l e s t kind of modern verse .11

Nowhere i n h i s e a r l y criticism does Dryden r e f u t e h i s remarks

concerning t h e rhymed coup le t a s , a device f o r r e g u l a t i n g t h e

fancy; y e t , c l e a r l y , i n h i s Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668),

h i s Defence of an Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668), and h i s

essay , Of Heroic P lays (1672), he sees t h e rhymed coup le t

more and more a s a way of b r ing ing n a t u r e **up t o an h igher

p i t c h , " than a s an ins t rument of r e s t r a i n t .

It appears a t f i r s t g lance , then , t h a t Dryden is

t r y i n g t o have t h e b e s t of both worlds, y e t h i s p o s i t i o n is

v a l i d ; one can see i n h i s concept of t h e s e r i o u s p lay ,

perhaps best summed up i n t h e d i f f i c u l t phrase **nature

wrought up t o an h igher pi tch", t h e essence o f t h e Baroque

s p i r i t of c o n t r o l l e d exuberance, a s p i r i t which was admirably

served by t h e p o l a r i z i n g device of t h e rhymed o r **heroicw

coup le t , w i th i ts c a p a c i t y both of sc reen ing o u t , throudh its

r e s t r i c t i v e medium, d i s t r a c t i n g f l i g h t s o f fancy, and o f

embel l i sh inq those l i n e s o f thought considered by t h e poe t t o

be t r u e s t t o na tu re . However, what was t o be t h e t r u e n a t u r e

of t h e h e r o i c play? Was i ts s u b j e c t t o be t h e predominance of

t h e s o c i a l o r d e r , and its importance a s a r e s t r a i n i n g f o r c e

on man's unruly na tu re? Then t h e coup le t , both a s a medium

r e q u i r i n g a r t i s t i c d i s c i p l i n e and a s a v e h i c l e f o r expos i t ion

and reasoned debate , would be w e l l s u i t e d t o t r e a t of such a

top ic . O r was its primary s u b j e c t t o be t h e g l o r i o u s n a t u r e

of t h e e c c e n t r i c hero? Then t h e couple t would s e r v e e q u a l l y

wel l , h e r e a s a medium of embellishment. Could any p l a y

s u c c e s s f u l l y con ta in two such opposing s u b j e c t s , even i f i ts

medium, t h e h e r o i c coup le t , were apparen t ly capable of t r e a t i n g

both of them e q u a l l y well? Dryden may have been seduced by

h i s f a i t h i n t h e h e r o i c couple t i n t o b e l i e v i n g t h a t he could

s u c c e s s f u l l y incorpora te both s u b j e c t s i n t o h i s p lays .

C e r t a i n l y the rhymed couple t is capable of d e s c r i b i n q h e r o i c

c h a r a c t e r , b u t can it o r can a p lay composed completely i n

rhyming coup le t s evoke such cha rac te r? Can it p r e s e n t an

e c c e n t r i c hero favourably i n t h e presence of s t r o n g arguments,

r e in fo rced by t h e use of t h e couple t , t o t h e e f f e c t t h a t

such a hero is dangerous t o t h e s o c i a l order? The problem

becomes c l e a r e r when w e cons ider t h i s passage from h i s Essay

of Dramatic Poesy i n t h e l i g h t of h i s e a r l i e r quoted remarks

concerning t h e e c c e n t r i c hero. Neander (Dryden) is answering

an o b j e c t i o n t o t h e rhymed couple t p u t forward by C r i t e s

(Howard) :

But you t e l l us , t h i s supplying t h e l a s t h a l f of a ve r se , o r ad jo in ing a whole second t o t h e former, looks more l i k e t h e design of two, than t h e answer of one. Supposing w e acknowledge it: how comes t h i s confederacy t o be more d i s p l e a s i n g t o you, than i n a dance which is w e l l cont r ived? You see t h e r e t h e un i t ed design of many persons t o make up one f i g u r e : a f t e r they have separa ted them- s e l v e s i n many p e t t y d i v i s i o n s , they r e j o i n one by one i n t o a gross : t h e confederacy is p l a i n amongst then, f o r chance could never produce any t h i n g s o b e a u t i f u l ; and y e t t h e r e is noth ing i n it, t h a t shocks your s i g h t . l2

H e r e Dryden, i n h i s defence of t h e rhymed coup le t , comes

c l o s e t o t h e concept of t ragedy a s a r t i f a c t , wherein a l l

a c t i o n is c a r e f u l l y and obviously p l o t t e d o u t before-hand,

a s i n a dance o r a masque. -

s u i t a b l e f o r s t r e s s i n g t h e

accomodate t h e " i r r e g u l a r w

Such a format

s o c i a l theme,

hero and wi th

would be indeed

b u t how could it

him, t h e idea of

i n d i v i d u a l g rea tness? C e r t a i n l y some of Dryden's sub-plots ,

a t l e a s t , do have t h e q u a l i t y of masque, p a r t i c u l a r l y t h a t

involv ing Ozmyn and Benzayda i n The Conquest of Granada.

With h i s p e r f e c t v i r t u e s a s guides , Ozmyn, a ggregu la rw hero

i n t h e French manner, a s Dryden admits , has no t r o u b l e

e n t e r i n g i n t o such a dance. But how could Almanzor, supposedly

a man of g r e a t s p i r i t , l i k e A c h i l l e s and Rinaldo, n o t bound

by " the strict r u l e s of moral v i r t u e , " f i t i n t o a p l a y

designed upon such r i g i d p r i n c i p l e s and st i l l r e t a i n h i s

*#Herculeanw temperament? It can be argued t h a t i f the "ir-

r e g u l a r w A c h i l l e s can remain h e r o i c while f i t t i n g i n t o t h e

c a r e f u l l y formed p l o t o f t h e I l i a d , s u r e l y Almanzor can do

t h e same i n The Conquest of Granada. Y e t , i n the former

case , Ach i l l e s ' a c t i o n i n withdrawing from the b a t t l e

c l e a r l y a f f e c t s the outcome of the e p i c -- i n s h o r t , the

s t o r y can be s a i d t o be a func t ion of t h e he ro ' s impulsive

c h a r a c t e r ; i n t h e l a t t e r case , a s I s h a l l a t tempt t o show

upon examining The Conquest of Granada, Almanzor's c h a r a c t e r

is, t o a g r e a t e x t e n t , shaped by t h e excess ive ly formal

demands of t h e p l o t , t h e "dance which is w e l l contr ived."

I f Dryden intended h i s h e r o i c t r a g e d i e s t o c a r r y

t oge the r both themes, t h a t of t h e h e r o i c p o t e n t i a l o f -

t h e i n d i v i d u a l and t h a t s t r e s s i n g t h e need f o r s o c i a l c o n t r o l

and guidance o f such p o t e n t i a l , then he had t o f i n d a con-

v inc ing way of p resen t ing h i s heroes a s Herculean f i g u r e s

who, without l o s i n g t h a t v i t a l s t r e a k of p r i m i t i v e energy,

would be amenable t o guidance and c o r r e c t i o n from a h igher

a u t h o r i t y . A s w e have seen, Dryden was n o t the f i r s t poet

t o f a c e t h i s problem. However, it must be remembered t h a t ,

more than i n any e p i c of h i s predecessors , h e r o i c c h a r a c t e r

was c e n t r a l t o Dryden's e a r l y t r a g e d i e s . The important

elements of n a r r a t i v e and d e s c r i p t i o n , upon which Homer,

V i r g i l and Tasso focused much of t h e i r c r e a t i v e energy, had

t o be abandoned by Dryden when he chose t o set h i s e p i c s

upon t h e s t a g e . H e could a f fo rd , t h e r e f o r e , t o devote much

more t i m e t o c h a r a c t e r i z i n g t h e hero; indeed he had l i t t l e

choice b u t t o do so. Where Dxyden d i f f e r e d from h i s pre-

decessors , then, was i n h i s r a i s i n g h i s heroes, p r i n c i p a l l y

through t h e i r own r h e t o r i c r a t h e r than through a c t i o n , t o

a s h igh a l e v e l a s p o s s i b l e before applying t o them t h e

requi red s o c i a l s t r i c t u r e s . If a hero could be r a i s e d h igh

enough, perhaps t h e necessary humbling process of h i s s o c i a l

i n t e g r a t i o n would appear less d e s t r u c t i v e and he could

s u c c e s s f u l l y make t h e t r a n s f e r from "Herculeanw t o *8regular8*

hero, a long t h e l i n e s of Aeneas and Goffredo, and s t i l l r e t a i n

some of the "divinen aura of the eccent r ic hero. In t h i s

way both themes, s o c i a l and nheroic,w could be sustained

through to the end of the play.

How does Dryden succeed, then, i n the character-

iza t ion of his heroes? By narrowing our treatment of t h i s

question t o a discussion of Maximin and Almanzor, h i s two

most ambitious essays i n heroism, ra ther than attempting a

coverage of a l l h i s heroic plays, we can focus more d i rec t ly

on Dryden's treatment of t h i s qua l i ty on the stage. The

wheroicW v i l l a i n , Maximin, represents Drydenas c loses t

approach t o a t r u l y primitive hero. Primitive energy munts

f o r everything i n h i s character; soc ia l morality, even a

rudimentary sense of r i g h t and wrong, f o r nothing. With

Almanzor, Dryden comes c loses t t o r ea l i z ing h i s i d e a l of

heroism.blending with soc ia l morality, of the super-hero

tamed, but not broken by society.

Maximin comes c loses t of a l l Dryden's dramatic

characters, t o Marloweas Tamburlaine and t o the concept of the

t o t a l l y self-absorbed Herculean hero. On reading Tyrannic Love

one can see c lea r ly t h a t Dryden, while recognizing the in-

herent e v i l s of such a character and its bas ic incompatibil i ty

with any form of s o c i a l order, was, l ike Marlowe, fascinated

w i t h its energy and pa r t i cu la r ly with the rhe to r i ca l possi-

bi l i t ies t h a t a display of such energy allowed the dramatist.

I n the opening scenes of Tyrannic Love, Dryden

a t tempts t o involve h i s audience a t l e a s t p a r t i a l l y w i t h h is

v i l l a i n - h e r o by p resen t ing him i n a s sympathet ic a l i g h t a s

he can. H e e s t a b l i s h e s Maximin's c r e d e n t i a l s a s a formidable

warrior-hero i n the opening l i n e s of t h e p lay , "Thus far my

A r m s have w i t h success been crowned; / And found no s t o p ,

o r vanquished what they found, . . . (I . i .p . 335)? Maximin

qu ick ly d i s p l a y s an h e r o i c contempt f o r the less v i o l e n t

elements i n h i s s o c i e t y and even f o r the idea of a s t a b l e

s o c i a l o rde r :

That Senate 's but a name;

O r t hey a r e Pageant Pr inces which they make;

That pow'r they g ive away, they would par take .

Two equa l pow'rs, two d i f f e r e n t ways w i l l draw,

While each may check, and g ive t h e o t h e r Law.

True, they secure p r o p r i e t y and peace;

But a r e n o t f i t an Empire t o inc rease . . . . ( I . i . p . 3 3 6 )

Dryden al lows h i s audience a c e r t a i n ambiguity here . Since

t h e p lay ' s h i s t o r i c a l s e t t i n g is t h e d e c l i n i n g Roman Empire

of t h e t h i r d century , t h e playgoer could, i f he wished,

accept a s v a l i d Maximin's view of t h e Roman Senate a s s tanding

( l i k e Boabdelin i n The Conquest of Granada) f o r a c o r r u p t ,

f a i l i n g s o c i e t y . Maximin's view of the Senate is r e f u t e d , but

n o t u n t i l t h e end of t h e p lay , when Porphyrius , a f t e r t h e

t y r a n t ' s dea th , upholds t h e leg i t imacy o f t h e Roman Senate ,

wTwo Emperors a t Rome t h e Senate chose, / And whom t h e y chuse

no Roman should oppose . . .ll (V.i.p.393).

Maximin is shown a t h i s best when he f i r s t r e c e i v e s

t h e news o f h i s son's death. H e u t t e r s h i s f i r s t of a long

series of hyperbo l i c r a n t s i n a t r a g i c s i t u a t i o n , one which

m e r i t s t h e sympathy of t h e audience:

Max; S tay; i f thou speak ' s t t h a t word, thou speak ' s t - t h y l a s t :

Some God now, i f he da res , r e l a t e what 's p a s t :

Say b u t he ' s dead, t h a t God s h a l l mor ta l be.

A l b r Then what I da re n o t speak, look back and see . - (Charinus born i n dead by Sou ld ie r s . )

Max: See nothing, Eyes, hencefor th , bu t Death and woe;

You've done m e t h e worst o f f ice you can do.

You've shewn m e Dest iny 's prepos t ' rous crime;

An unr ipe f a t e ; d i s c l o s ' d e're Nature 's time.

(I. i .pp. 340-341)

These l i n e s , while h i n t i n g a t t h e depths of a t y r a n t ' s

pass iona te n a t u r e , can be taken simply a s an hones t outpouring

o f g r i e f , admirable i n its i n t e n s i t y , However, when P lac id ius

and Porphyrius t r y t o calm h i s g r i e f by sugges t ing t h a t h i s

g r e a t n a t u r e should be a b l e t o withstand t h e blows of f a t e :

Plac id : Asswage, g r e a t Pr ince , your pass ion , lest

you show

There's somewhat i n your Soul which Fa te can bow.

Por: Fortune should by your g r e a t n e s s be cont roul 'd : - A r m yourgrea t mind, and l e t h e r t a k e no hold.

( I . i .p .341)

Maximin cont inues i n a speech which, s t r e s s i n g a s it does

t h e p e r s i s t e n t l y d e f i a n t n a t u r e o f h i s g r i e f , shows, most

c l e a r l y , t h e g r e a t depth and i n s a t i a b l e q u a l i t y of t h e

man's passion:

Max: To tame Phi losophers t each constancy;

There is no f a r t h e r use of it i n m e .

Gods! (But why name I you!

A l l t h a t was worth a prayer t o you, is gone:)

I ask n o t back my v i r t u e , bu t my Son.

(1 . i .p . 341)

The t y r a n t soon g i v e s more concre te proof o f h i s immoderate

pass ion when he u n j u s t l y demands t h a t t h e leg ion which

fought with h i s son a t h i s dea th be decimated. An o b j e c t i o n

is answered by Why, they t a k e Pay t o d i e w ( I . i . p . 3 4 1 ) .

Nevertheless , up t o t h i s p o i n t , Maximin h a s been

shown a s a courageous and s u c c e s s f u l genera l , a p o s s i b l y just

cr i t i c of a d e c l i n i n g s o c i e t y , and a g r i e v i n g f a t h e r . Even i n

h i s f i r s t encounter wi th ~ h r i s t i a n i t y , he appears more a s a

defender of the State against zealous factions than as a

cruel persecutor:

Max: From me they can expect no grace, whose minds - An execrable superstition binds.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

How, to their own destruction, they are blind!

Zeal is the pious madness of the mind.

(I.i.p.339)

Thus far, then, Dryden has made every effort to

involve his audience as much as possible in the unique

character of Maximin before going on to demonstrate its fatal

flaws. For although he was careful, in a preface, to justify

his play on moral grounds, setting great store by the virtuous

character of St. Catharine, I believe Drydenes intent in the

play, initially at least, was to attempt a thorough exploration

of the psychology of the Herculean heroic character, its

potentialities and its weaknesses.

However, from the end of the first act to the end

of the play, Maximines weaknesses, his immoderate passion,

whether grief, love, jealousy or lust for power, and his

total self-preoccupation, become all too apparent, as in

speech after speech he indulges his great capacity for rant.

In these speeches Dryden often indulges, at considerable cost

to the convincing portrayal of character, his own capacity for

hyperbo l i c s ta tement and provocat ive argument. A r a n t i n g

speech which Maximin makes upon bestowing t h e rank o f

Caesar and h i s daughter ' s hand upon Porphyrius may be taken

a s t y p i c a l :

Y e t Heav'n and Ear th , which s o remote appear ,

A r e by t h e A i r , which flows betwixt 'em, near ,

And ' t w i x t u s two my Daughter be t h e chain:

One end with m e , and one wi th you remain.

( I I . i . p .346)

Suggesting, a s t h e y do, t h e t y r a n t ' s usurping of t h e Godhead

i tself, t h e s e a r e t h e words, n o t merely o f , a proud over-

bear ing t y r a n t , bu t of t h e ve ry p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n o r e m b l e m of

excess ive p r ide . They a r e , n o t what one would say , but t h e most

one can say , i n such a s i t u a t i o n , i f he wishes t o d i s p l a y

supreme a u t h o r i t y . The impression of Maximin's blasphemous

p r i d e is re in fo rced when, s h o r t l y a f t e r , S t . Catharine,

appeal ing t o t h e t r u e Godhead, makes a s i m i l a r , b u t more p ious

r e fe rence t o t h e Great Chain of Being:

This d o c t r i n e w e l l b e f i t t e d him who thought

A casua l world was from wild Atoms wrought:

But such an o r d e r i n each chance w e see,

(Chain'd t o its cause, a s t h a t t o its d e c r e e , )

That none can t h i n k a workmanship s o r a r e

Was b u i l t o r kep t without a workman's care .

( I I I . i . p . 3 5 3 )

In such speeches w e see a much stronger emphasis

on presenting the idea of self-obsession a s an aspect of the

Herculean temperament than on the development of a plausible

character within a play. Dryden s h i f t s h i s focus away from

Maximin the individual v i l l a i n : a s the play progresses and the

tyrant de l ivers more of h i s r an t s i n t h i s vein, he appears

less and less a s a v i l l a i n i n a play and more and more a s an

e m b l e m o r speaking picture of Herculean self-obsession, the

qual i ty which Waith c a l l s arete?

Up u n t i l the end of the second a c t Maximin appears

a s a ranting hero i n the same vein a s Tamburlaine, spurred on

so le ly by h i s l u s t f o r self-aggrandizement. The Herculean

temperament of Tamburlaine is cen t ra l t o Marlowe's play, and

is therefore buttressed by Marlowe with a host of lesser

characters who serve merely t o r e f l e c t the hero's glory.

Tamburlaine continues unopposed i n h i s career of conquest and

self-aggrandizement through t o the end of the play. However,

Dryden could not s t e p outside of Christ ian morality, a s Marlowe

did i n Tamburlaine, and st i l l be t rue t o h i s e s sen t i a l ly moral

conception of drama and of the heroic play i n par t icu lar .

Against the character of Maximin, therefore, Dryden sets the

character of S t . Catharine, the moral precepts of her arguments

f o r Chris t iani ty , and the moral examples of the ennobling love

re la t ionship between Porphyrius and eren nice and of va le r i a ' s

s e l f - s a c r i f i c e . Porphyrius may chafe a l i t t l e i n h i s r o l e d

of c o u r t l y l o v e r -- he has some elements o f t h e i r r e g u l a r

hero -- bu t Berenice and Valer ia a r e f l a w l e s s i n their

r e a c t i o n s t o t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e t e s t i n g s i t u a t i o n s . Together

t h e s e f i g u r e s make up a moral o r d e r , t o t a l l y incompatible

wi th the a n a r c h i c temperament of Maximin. Having set up t h i s

oppos i t ion , Dryden could d e a l wi th Maximin i n one of t h r e e

ways: he could p e r s i s t i n t r e a t i n g him a s another Tamburlaine,

a l lowing him t o persevere i n h i s r o l e o f conqueror through t o

t h e end of t h e p lay , avoiding somehow a conf ron ta t ion with

t h e p lay ' s moral elements. However, by thus p rese rv ing h i s

Herculean hero i n t a c t , Dryden would have produced a double-

p l o t t e d work, something l i k e h i s Marriaqe 2 l a Mode, b u t , with

its i n e v i t a b l y c o n f l i c t i n g themes, even more hope less ly

divided. O r he could ar range a conf ron ta t ion bet.ween h i s hero

and t h e moral elements of t h e p l a y by which Maximin's

Herculean temperament might be chal lenged, exposed a s s o c i a l l y

d i s a s t r o u s , b u t allowed t o remain unchanged. Such a t r e a t -

ment, while p roper ly moral, would s t i l l g ive Dryden ample

oppor tuni ty t o explore t h e psychology of t h e Herculean hero.

This is what he chose t o do. The t h i r d a l t e r n a t i v e , a con-

f r o n t a t i o n between t h e hero and s o c i e t y , r e s u l t i n g i n t h e

h e r o e s educat ion and i n t e g r a t i o n i n t o t h a t s o c i e t y , Dryden

was t o t ake i n The Conquest. of Granada.

Maximin's conf ron ta t ion , l i k e Almanzor's, comes

i n t h e form of "heroicw love. H e acknowledges love, y e t ,

u n l i k e Almanzor, he cannot f r e e l y su r render t o it and allow

himself t o be guided by it, f o r t o do s o would be t o deny

h i s o t h e r pass ion , h i s w i l l t o power which is rooted deep

i n h i s t o t a l se l f -preoccupat ion , "Wild wi th my rage , more

wild with my d e s i r e , / Like meeting t i d e s -- but mine a r e

t i d e s of f i r e w ( I I I . i . p . 3 5 4 ) . The r e s u l t i n g c o n f l i c t of

t h e s e pass ions wi th in him becomes t h e essence of h i s

r e l a t i o n s h i p wi th S t . Catharine, and of h i s c h a r a c t e r f o r

t h e rest of t h e play. H i s c h a r a c t e r , s t a t i c l i k e Tamburlainees

and t h a t of a l l t r u e p r i m i t i v e heroes , now becomes t o t a l l y

f rozen -- he can no longer move even along t h e narrow course

of h i s d e s i r e -- f o r now even t h e g r a t i f i c a t i o n of pass ion ,

t h e mainstay of t h e a c t i o n i n Marlowe's p lay , is denied him;

h i s two c o n f l i c t i n g pass ions feed on one another : should he

submit t o love and s p a r e S t . Catharine, o r should he obey

h i s w i l l t o power and d e s t r o y t h i s t h r e a t t o h i s supremacy?

H i s l u s t guides him i n t o t h e former course, b u t when,

pursuing t h i s course , he is rebuffed by t h e s a i n t l y lady ,

h i s p r i d e sends him back t o t h e l a t t e r . Thus immobilized by

h i s pass ions , Maximin, while r e t a i n i n g t h e c h a r a c t e r of t h e

Herculean hero, l o s e s a l l h i s potency, h i s a b i l i t y t o a c t .

"The i rony which under l ines t h e whole p lay is t h a t Maximin

thinks he is in control of all the Romans about him, yet he

is the blind instrument by which Christianity gains a foot-

hold in the imperial court.*q l4 ere we have the raw material

for tragedy. Dryden could now, as he was later to do with

Antony in All for Love, focus on the essentially traqic nature

of the tyrant's emotional predicament, and forego his attempts

to portray him as wheroic.w Instead, Dryden passes over to

the rhetorical and intellectual possibilities of his situation,

for only through rhetoric can Maximin continue to appear heroic

and, his character being fixed in the "heroicw mold, only

through debate, specifically in his role of devil's advocate

to St. Catharine, can he remain interesting to the playgoer.

With Maximin thus "fixed," the dramatic and

intellectual initiatives of the play pass over to St. Cath-

arine, Porphyrius and Berenice, and Valeria. Opposed to the

bombast and dramatic impotence of Maximin's rhetoric we have

the lucid discourse (particularly in her scenes with the

Roman philosophers and with the tyrant himself wherein she

successfully counters Stoic and Hobbesian objections to

Christianity) and calm fortitude of St, Catharine as well as

the heroic but never "Herculean** defiance of the others,

The blustering "heroickW posturings of Maximin are refuted

time and again by St. Catharine, both explicitly in her debates

with the tyrant and implicitly in her calm acceptance of a

martyres death. Y e t she shares with Maximin something of

the Herculean heroic temperament: her presence i n the play

condemns the unprincipled ambition of Maximines character

but not h i s heroic energy, f o r she has a great deal of her

own. Her debate with the philosopher Apollonius ea r ly i n the

second a c t indicates t h i s , Apollonius out l ines the eminently

reasonable, decidedly unheroic doctrine of the Stoics:

And what more noble can your Doctrine preach,

Than Vertues which Philosophy does teach?

To keep the passions i n severest awe,

To l i v e with Reason, (Naturees g rea tes t Law)

To follow Vertue, a s its own reward;

And good and ill, a s things without, regard.

(1I.i .p. 348)

St. Catharine r e p l i e s with arguments suggesting t h a t such a

sterile philosophy makes no allowance f o r the weaknesses of

the human s p i r i t , nor does it carry any appeal t o i ts poten-

t i a l s trengths;

Y e t few could follow those strict Rules they gave;

For humane l i f e w i l l humane f r a i l t i e s have;

And love of Vertue is but barren praise ,

Airy a s Fame: nor strong enough t o r a i s e

The act ions of the Soul above the sence.

Vertue grows cold without a recompence.

W e v i r t u o u s a c t s a s du ty do regard;

Y e t a r e permi t ted t o expect reward.

( I I . i . p . 3 4 8 )

I n f u r t h e r arguments S t . Catharine stresses both t h e human

need f o r some reward f o r v i r t u e o t h e r than simply t h e know-

ledge of having done t h e r i g h t t h i n g , and t h e human a b i l i t y ,

given t h e r i g h t i n c e n t i v e , t o pursue t h e v i r t u o u s course wi th

f a r g r e a t e r , more h e r o i c , i n t e n s i t y , than t h a t envisioned

by t h e S t o i c s :

Apoll: By how much more your F a i t h reward a s s u r e s ,

So much more f r ank our Vir tue is than yours.

S. Cath: Bl ind men! you seek ev'n those rewards

you blame :

But o u r s a r e s o l i d ; yours an empty name.

E i t h e r t o open p r a i s e your A c t s you guide,

O r else reward your s e l v e s with secret p r i d e .

Apollr Y e t s t i l l our Moral v i r t u e s you obey:

Ours a r e t h e Precepts though apply'd your way.

S. Cathr ' T i s t r u e , your v i r t u e s a r e t h e same w e t each ;

But i n our p r a c t i c e they much h igher reach.

You but f o r b i d t o t ake anothers due;

But w e f o r b i d e'vn t o d e s i r e it too.

Revenge of i n j u r i e s you Vir tue c a l l ;

But w e fo rg iveness of our wrongs e x t o l l :

Immodest deeds you h inder t o be wrought,

But w e p r o s c r i b e t h e l e a s t immodest thought.

So much your Vi r tues a r e i n o u r s r e f i n ' d ,

That yours but reach t h e a c t i o n s , o u r s t h e mind.

( 1 I . i . p . 349)

I n a l a t e r scene wi th Maximin, S t . Cathar ine

uses s i m i l a r arguments i n an a t tempt t o convince t h e t y r a n t

t h a t it is more h e r o i c t o c o n t r o l pass ion than t o submit t o

it. Maximin cannot agree f o r t o do s o would mean t h a t , i n

o r d e r t o remain a hero i n h i s own eyes, he would have t o

subdue h i s d e s i r e and deny himself h i s p r i z e . Maximin can-

n o t even admit c o n t r o l of pass ion t o be p o s s i b l e , f o r t h a t

would amount t o a d i r e c t confession of h i s own impotence.

TO remain "heroicM he must make a case f o r t h e ungovernable

n a t u r e of passion. In doing s o , he relies heav i ly on a

Hobbesian d e t e r m i n i s t i c concept of t h e pass ions :

I f t o new persons I my Love apply,

The S t a r s and Nature a r e i n f a u l t , n o t I;

My Loves a r e l i k e my o l d Prae to r i an bands,

Whose A r b i t r a r y power t h e i r P r ince commands;

I can no more make passion come o r go,

Than you can b id your Nilus ebb o r flow.

'T is lawless , and w i l l love, and where it list:

And t h a t ' s no s i n which no man can resist:

Those who impute it t o m e a s a c r i m e ,

Would make a God of m e before my t i m e .

( I V . i.p.369)

S t . Catharine r e f u t e s t h i s argument, sugges t ing t h a t c o n t r o l

of t h e pass ions may s e e m Godlike, but is humanly p o s s i b l e ;

I'But you may make yourse l f a G o d below: / For Kings who r u l e

t h e i r own d e s i r e s a r e so." ~ a x i m i n r e i t e r a t e s h i s p o s i t i o n :

"How can I he lp those f a u l t s which Nature made?" S t . Catharine

makes a f i n a l e f f o r t t o ' * i n s t r u c t w Maximin and b r i n g h i m o u t

of t h e s o l i p s i s t s t a t e of t h e Herculean hero and i n t o the more

acceptable mold o f a C h r i s t i a n hero:

But when you p l a c e your joys on t h i n g s above,

You f i x t h e wandering P lane t ofyovsc Love:

Thence you may s e e

Poor humane kind a l l dazed i n open day,

E r r a f t e r b l i s s , and b l i n d l y m i s s t h e i r way:

The g r e a t e s t happiness a Pr ince can know,

Is t o love Heaven above, do good below.

(1v.i.p.369-370)

I n both t h e s e scenes, S t . Catharine, i n h e r defence

of C h r i s t i a n i t y , p l a c e s a much s t r o n g e r emphasis on t h e

r e l i g i o n ' s h e r o i c q u a l i t i e s , p a r t i c u l a r l y t h e r o l e of t h e

i n d i v i d u a l w i l l a s subduer of pass ion , than on i t s g e n t l e r

a spec t s . The he ro ine ' s own w i l l reaches something approaching

Herculean proportions in her "damn the consequencesw d

pursuit of a martyr's crown: at one point she is willing

to sacrifice Berenice's life to this goal. As with the

Becket of T.S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral, it is difficult

to assess her motives. Her will in suppressing her desire

to live and her natural feelings for the plight of the empress

and submitting to what she believes to be God's will is

indeed heroic, but is there not something of the blindly

Herculean hero in her headlong pursuit of this course? Is

there not an element of Itpious madnessw here, or of pride

in her confident assumption that her actions will have no

effect on Berenice's fate? One can detect in her replies

to Berenice, perhaps the Achilles' heel. of the martyr, a

sublime belief in the supreme importance of her actions to

the rest of the world:

Ber: Of death's contempt Heroick proofs you give; - But, Madam, let my weaker Vertue live.

Your Faith may bid you, your own life resign;

But not when yours must be involv'd with mine.

Since, then, you do not think me fit to dye,

Ah, how can you that life I beg, deny!

S. Cath: Heav'n does in this my greatest tryal make,

When I for it, the care of you forsake.

But I am plac'd as on a Theater,

Where all my Acts to all Mankind appear,

To imitate my constancy of fear.

Then, Madam, judge what course I should pursue,

When I must either Heaven forsake, or you.

Port Were saving Berenice's life a sin, - Heaven had shut up your flight from Maximin.

S. Catht Thus with short Plummets Heavens deep

will we sound

That vast Abyss where humane wit is drowned!

In our small Skiff we must not launce too far;

We here but Coasters, not Discoverers are.

Faith's necessary Rules are plain and few;

We, many, and those needless Rules pursue:

Faith from our hearts into our heads we drive;

And make Religion all Contemplative.

You, on Heavens will may witty glosses feign;

But that which I must practise here, is plain:

If the All-great decree her life to spare,

He will, the means, without my crime prepare.

(1V.i.p. 373)

Certainly St. Catharine's unwavering devotion to a higher

law expressed in the passages cited above, and throughout

the play, is the moral antithesis of the Herculean self-

absorption which motivates Maximin; yet, by the single-

purposed nature of their characters, the two protagonists C

are effectively linked together: the obsessive qualities

of both, Maximin's self-concern, St. Catharine's concern

with the divine will, complement each other after a fashion,

and maintain throughout the heroic tone of the play. One

passes from the apparently lofty but, in reality, false and

inflated rhetoric of the tyrant to the truly lofty spirit of

the saint, appreciating that quality of all-consuming energy

which is common to both.

Although St. Catharine is the guardian of the play's

moral tone, and Porphyrius, Berenice, and the others control

events, after the tyrant's paralysing infatuation with St.

Catharine, it is Maximin who dominates the spirit of the play,

and he dominates it almost completely through the force of his

rhetoric. Virtually every major speech the tyrant makes is

either a straight-forward rant in which he is claiming supreme

power for himself or asserting it over one or other of his

subjects, or, after his encounter with St. Catharine, a re-

statement of some aspect of his emotional predicament, the

conflict between love and his will to power. None of these

speeches, for all their impact, rhetorical display, and skill-

ful argument, reveals anything significant about Maximin

further than the fact that he is a tyrant consumed with passion.

Yet Dryden cannot be faulted for failing in what he set out

to do, to make a thorough study of the Herculean temperament.

For the sad fact is that, unless one is willing to go below

its surface and treat it on a more human level, thus denying

its ttheroic** stature, there is nothing more to reveal about

such a temperament. A primitive hero such as Maximin, with

his infinite capacity for passion, whether anger, lust,

pride or ambition, resists a complex treatment. Apart from

commenting on the magnitude of his passions there is little

one can say about the infinitely passionate individual. In

his treatment of Maximin, Dryden indeed "loosed the Reins,

and bid his Muse run mad,"15 but his imagination could run

only along the clearly cut channels of rhetoric and debate.

(We may fault Dryden for failing to present us with a hero as

impressive as Marlowe's Tamburlaine: could his imagination not

reach as far? Perhaps it was simply that while Marlowe, at

the time he wrote Tamburl-aine, was emotionally committed to

the idea of the purely Herculean hero; Dryden, always a

staunch Tory, devoted to the cause of a stable society, had

only an intellectual interest in, or at most a romantic,

fanciful feeling for, such a character.)

Dryden's "irregular" villain, because of the infinite

and uncompromising nature of his passion, becomes completely

"regular" in character: the absolutely passionate Maximin turns

out to be as predictable as the absolutely virtuous Berenice,

Ozmyn or Indamora. Nevertheless, there is something about the

t y r a n t ' s "heroism," h i s e f f o r t s , however unsuccessfu l , t o

impose o r d e r and meaning on h i s world by t h e f o r c e of h i s

own w i l l a lone, which a f f e c t s t h e audience more than t h e

p e r f e c t v i r t u e s of Dryden's o t h e r c h a r a c t e r s . Only S t .

Cathar ine ' s seeming excesses i n he r p u r s u i t of a mar tyr ' s

crown e x c i t e a comparable response, "If Maximin's tyranny

submits e a s i l y t o moral d iagnos i s , h i s t i t a n i s m s t i l l c a r r i e s

f o r c e and wins a sympathy it does n o t ask."16

For a l l i ts moral i n t e n t , Tyrannic Love, because

of its d e t a i l e d t rea tment of its Herculean p r o t a g o n i s t ,

'cannot h e l p bu t stress t h e concept of impulsive heroism over

t h a t of t h e ordered s o c i e t y . ( S t . Cathar ine ' s suppor t o f t h e

l a t t e r concept is overshadowed somewhat by h e r "heroic"

p u r s u i t of martyrdom.) The t i t a n i c energy of Maximin's

c h a r a c t e r , however, is shown t o be ungovernable and t o t a l l y

d e s t r u c t i v e , The two themes, i n e f f e c t , cance l each o t h e r

ou t : t h e s o c i a l theme triumphs a t t h e end, o f course , but it

is t h e h e r o i c theme, embodied i n t h e c h a r a c t e r of Maximin,

which Dryden intended t o capture t h e audience ' s imaginat ion.

In The Conquest of Granada Dryden brought a l l h i s c r e a t i v e

ene rg ies t o bear on t h e problem of combininq t h e s e themes

so t h a t he could r e c o n c i l e two b a s i c elements i n h i s own

c h a r a c t e r , and i n t h a t of h i s aget an e s s e n t i a l l y c o n s e r v a t i v e

b e l i e f i n t h e need f o r a s t a b l e s o c i e t y , and an i n t u i t i v e ,

romantic admiration of heroism, The age in which these

plays were written should not be overlooked. It was an

age which embodied in its art, music, literature and

politics a distinctive Baroque quality of controlled

exuberance. It was a vigorous period, not debilitated

as ~obree suggests,17 but one in which, both in the arts

and in society, a fear of anarchy was beginning to take

hold, and restraints were starting to be placed on the

elemental energies of an earlier age.

It was true that memories of first hand experience

with war were beginning to fade. Though the threat or

promise of conflict, war with the Dutch or the French, or

even renewed civil conflict, was always in the background,

the traumatic shock of the Civil War, which had involved

nearly all members of the nobility, was beginning to disappear.

As a result, war was coming to be regarded in a more glamorous

light. Heroism on the stage stirred memories of brave deeds

in the minds of older playgoers and inspired younger ones

with heroic thoughts of future exploits. However, if on

the emotional level the horrors of a general civil war

were being forgotten, there remained, on the intellectual

level, memories of the political turmoil of the period, and,

as a result, the Restoration playgoer looked to find, and

found, vindicated in the heroic play, the ideal of the well-

ordered s t a t e . For though he admired heroism and a v i d l y

sought it on t h e s t a g e , he could n o t accep t i n t e l l e c t u a l l y

t h e s o c i a l anarchy i m p l i c i t i n t h e triumph of a Tamburlaine

o r a Maximin.

The c o n f l i c t between admira t ion o f t h e f r e e s p i r i t

and t h e wish f o r i n d i v i d u a l l i b e r t y on t h e one hand, and t h e

d e s i r e f o r "law and orderq* on t h e o t h e r appears i n any age,

bu t i n f e w p e r i o d s d id it s o s t r o n g l y dominate t h e l i t e r a r y

and s o c i a l scene a s i n t h e r e i g n of Char les I1 -- and i n f e w

l i t e r a r y forms was t h i s c o n f l i c t seen r e f l e c t e d s o c l e a r l y

a s i n t h e h e r o i c t ragedy. The t e n a c t Conquest o f Granada,

Dryden's most ambitious h e r o i c p lay , r ep resen ted h i s most

s e r i o u s e f f o r t t o r e s o l v e t h i s c o n f l i c t both on t h e s t a g e

and i n h i s own mind.

A t t h e beginning of t h e p l a y Almanzor, l i k e

Maximin, is presented a s an i c o n o c l a s t i c hero , r e s p e c t i n g

nothing bu t h i s own w i l l i n which he ho lds a supreme

confidence : l8

I a lone am King of m e .

I am a s free a s Nature f i r s t made man,

' E r e t h e base Laws of S e r v i t u d e began,

When wild i n woods t h e noble Savage ran .

( I C.G. - I.i.p.34)

I n a sense Almanzorts h e r o i c s t a t u r e rests more e a s i l y upon

him than it does upon Tamburlaine o r Maximin, and t h u s more

s t r o n g l y a f f e c t s t h e audience. H e f e e l s no need t o dominate

s o c i e t y , a s does Maximin, bu t i n s t e a d is q u i t e secure i n

t h e p o s i t i o n he t a k e s o u t s i d e t h e s o c i a l o rde r : "My laws

a r e made, bu t on ly f o r my sake . . ." ( I - C.G.I. i .p.34).

A s Waith p o i n t s o u t i n h i s s tudy of t h e Herculean hero , "there

is an inescapable sugges t ion t h a t Almanzor himself belongs t o

an i n c o r r u p t i b l e world remote i n t i m e and space. #. 19

An immediate impression of t h e p r i m i t i v e p u r i t y

of Almanzores heroism is conveyed by t h e first scene of

t h e play. The p l a y opens with a d e s c r i p t i o n of a b u l l - f i g h t ,

an equal c o n t e s t between Almanzor and a p a r t i c u l a r l y f e roc ious

b u l l . There is an implied comparison between them. The b u l l

is *tbeyond t h e rest," and ttMonarch-likew he p u t s a l l l e s s e r

a d v e r s a r i e s t o f l i g h t ; Almanzor is r e f e r r e d t o a s " the brave

unknownw ( I - C. G. I. i .p. 30). The b u l l , s i g h t i n g Almanzor,

recognizes him immediately a s a worthy opponent:

Abdelmelech: Thus, while he s tood, t h e Bul l who

s a w t h i s foe ,

H i s e a s i e r Conquests proudly d i d forego:

And, making a t him, with a f u r i o u s bound,

From h i s bent forehead aimed a double wound. . , . ( I - C.G.I. i .p.31)

Almanzor is thus identified with the primitive energy of

the bull. In the following scenes Dryden p0int.s out the

ambiguous and potentially dangerous quality of such energy,

In a sudden conflict between two rival Moorish factions,

the Abencerrages and the Zegrys, following the bullfight,

Almanzor immediately sides with the weaker party: "I cannot

stay to ask which cause is best; / But this is so to me,

because opprestw (I Q. I. i , p , 3 2 ) . His action recalls that

of the bull in choosing to fight him -- he sees the larger faction to be a more formidable opponent. His motives are

surely similar to those of the bull in choosing him, but

there is as well an element of what can be taken as "natural

virtuew by the audience, his stated desire to support the

underdog, The question arises, is Almanzor exhibiting a

primitive sense of justice here, or is he simply responding,

like a proper conventional hero, to the long established code

of romantic chivalry? Would a true Hercul-ean figure act from

such motives, or would his impulse be identical. to that of

the bull, a simple desire for hard conflict? Yet Almanzor's

act is primitive to the extent that it is undertaken without

any regard for its social or political consequences. His

intervention on behalf of the Abencerrages is, by sheer

chance, politically the right one. In supporting the royalist

faction, he supports the king, and thus upholds the tottering

o r d e r of t h e Moorish s t a t e , t h e o n l y p r e s e n t l y v i s i b l e

a l t e r n a t i v e t o chaos. However, it soon becomes c l e a r t h a t

Almanzores dec i s ions , whether based upon a Herculean d e s i r e

f o r combat, h i s own concept of pe r sona l honour, o r a p r i m i t i v e

apprec ia t ion of t h e c h i v a l r i c code, have a completely random

e f f e c t on t h e genera l good, and, i n a manner which b r i n g s t o

mind Maximin's impotence, caused by h i s c o n f l i c t i n g pass ions ,

t h e e f f e c t s o f h i s a c t i o n s tend t o cancel each o t h e r o u t . When

t h e Duke o f Arcos appears , r ep resen t ing Spain, and makes a

c l e a r case f o r h e r l e g a l a u t h o r i t y , by t r e a t y , over t h e Moorish

kingdom, Almanzor is unmoved by such lega l i sms and cont inues

i n h i s suppor t f o r t h e co r rup t regime of Boabdelin. "The Moors

have Heaven and m e t m a s s i s t t h e i r causew ( I C,G.I. i .p.38), he

r e p l i e s when Arcos claim d iv ine suppor t f o r Spain. When

Almanzor does break wi th Boabdelin, it is over an a f f r o n t t o

h i s personal honour: t h e king w i l l n o t a l low h i s champion

t o r e l e a s e the captured Duke of Arcos s o t h a t he may again

engage him i n b a t t l e .

Almanzor, meeting no one s t r o n g enough t o oppose

h i s w i l l , u n t i l h i s encounter wi th ~ l m a h i d e , moves through

t h e s e e a r l y scenes with complete freedom, h i s audience f r e e

t o enjoy, f o r t h e moment, t h i s unchecked d i s p l a y of h e r o i c

temperament. Although Dryden p o i n t s o u t , through p l o t , t h e

dangers of such a temperament, a t t h e same t i m e he seems t o

sugges t through h i s choice of images t h a t its energy

may have g r e a t p o t e n t i a l f o r good. Almanzor9s freedom of

w i l l is descr ibed , n o t i n harsh m i l i t a r y t e r m s , bu t i n t h e

moral ly n e u t r a l terminology of na ture :

Almanzor: I am a s f r e e a s Nature f i r s t made man,

' E r e t h e base Laws of Se rv i tude began,

When wild i n woods t h e noble Savage ran.

(I C.G.I.i.p.34)

Abdalla: Vast is h i s Courage; boundless is h i s mind,

Rough a s a storm, and humorous as wind . . . (I C.G.I. i .p.35)

The image Dryden u s e s t o d e s c r i b e Almanzor's d i s p a t c h of t h e

b u l l evokes t h e peaceful a c t i v i t y of ha rves t ing , r a t h e r than

war:

Abdelmelech: Not heads of Poppies, (when t h e y

reap t h e g r a i n )

F a l l with more e a s e before t h e l a b o r i n g Swayn,

Than f e l l t h i s head . . . ( I G . I . i . p . 3 1 )

By such a dual t rea tment t h e energy of Almanzor9s h e r o i c

temperament is shown t o be, l i k e t h a t of Hercules, and

un l ike t h e conciously d e s t r u c t i v e f o r c e working wi th in

Maximin, q u i t e amoral and capable of e i t h e r good o r e v i l .

Having t h u s r a i s e d Almanzor, through r h e t o r i c and

a c t i o n , t o a s g r e a t a he igh t a s he can, Dryden must begin

t h e long process of h i s conversion from a "Herculeanw t o a

"regular*' hero , one amenable t o t h e d i c k a t e s of s o c i e t y .

H i s i n f a t u a t i o n with Almahide b inds him t o a m e m b e r o f t h a t

s o c i e t y and prepares t h e way f o r h i s complete s o c i a l i n t e g r a t i o n

which occurs i n t h e f i n a l scenes of t h e p lay . The ~ * c o n v e r s j . o n ~

scene with ASmahi.de, where Almanzor's w i l l is checked f o r

t h e f i r s t t i m e , is a c r u c i a l and d i f f i c u l t one, much more s o

than its coun te rpa r t between Maximin and S t . Catharine i n

Tyrannic Love. H e r e Dryden must d e p i c t h i s hero a s being se ized

by a passion from without , sur render ing t o it, un l ike Maximin,

y e t r e t a i n i n g h i s l o f t y s t a t u r e . Almanzor must p l a y t h e r o l e

of a convent ional h e r o i c love r without q u i t e descending t o t h e

l e v e l of one. H i s " i r r e g u l a r " s t a t u r e must be preserved.

Dryden manages p r i m a r i l y through t h e use of gro tesque ,

i n t e l l e c t u a l l y a p t , bu t emotional ly d i s q u i e t i n g imagery.

Almanzor r e v e a l s h i s emotional s t a t e i n t h e fo l lowing manner:

I t m e p1eaP.d and p a i n e d s i n c e first h e r eyes I saw,

A s I w e r e s tung with some Tarantu la :

A r m e s , and t h e dus ty f i e l d I less admire;

And s o f t e n s t r a n g e l y i n some new d e s i r e .

Honour burns i n me, not s o f i e r c e l y b r i g h t ,

B u t p a l e a s f i r e s when mas te r td by t h e l i g h t .

Ev'n while I speak and look, I change y e t more;

And now am nothing t h a t I was before.

I ' m numm'd, and f i x e d , and s c a r c e my e y e b a l l s move;

I f e a r it is t h e Lethargy of Love!

* T i s he; I f e e l him now i n every p a r t :

Like a new Lord he vaunts about my Heart ,

Surveys i n s t a t e each corner of my B r e s t ,

While poor fierce I, t h a t was, am d i s p o s s e s t .

I ' m bound; bu t I w i l l rowze my rage again:

And though no hope of L i b e r t y remaine,

1'11 f r i g h t my Keeper when I shake my chaine,

(I s. 111. i.p.54)

C lea r ly Almanzor's r e a c t i o n t o t h e power of **heroice* love

is much more complex than Maximin's "Wild with rage , more

wild wi th my d e s i r e , / Like meeting t i d e s -- bu t mine a r e

t i d e s of f irew (T .L . I I I . i . p .354) . - This famous passage

deserves p a r t i c u l a r a t t e n t i o n f o r n o t on ly does it r e v e a l

much about Dryden's complex approach towards t h e cha rac te r

o f Almanzor and towards heroism i n genera l , bu t it a l s o

epi tomizes t h e Baroque wcon t ro l l edw extravagance of h i s

s t y l e i n t h e s e p lays , t h e r e s u l t of h i s e f f o r t s a t once t o

g l o r i f y and j u s t i f y heroism.

The image o f t h e t a r a n t u l a , l i k e much of Donne's

imagery, shocks t h e senses while it s t i m u l a t e s t h e i n t e l l e c t .

Whatever its p o e t i c va lue , it is an accura te and imaginat ive

d e s c r i p t i o n of love ' s pa ra lys ing effect, I n us ing it Dryden

is t r y i n g f o r something above t h e convent ional r e a c t i o n t o

"heroicw love, t y p i f i e d by Porphyrius i n Tyrannic I ~ v e , where

he relies more on t r a d i t i o n a l imagery t o convey t h e psycho-

l o g i c a l l y d e s t r u c t i v e effect of love: "What dangers i n

t h e s e charming Eyes appear! / HOW my o l d wounds a r e opened

a t t h i s view! / And i n my murderers presence b leed anew!"

(G. 1. i . p , 339 ) . Almanzor's g r e a t e r n a t u r e is n o t merely

symbolical ly "woundedw bu t a c t u a l l y pa ra lysed by love.

mile Porphyrius s t i l l has w i t remaining t o r e l a t e h i s

encounter wi th Berenice t o previous e v e n t s , Almanzor is

momentarily completely overwhelmed by t h e suddenness of h i s

assi ion. The t a r a n t u l a s t i n g is a moment i n and o u t of t i m e .

However, a l though t h e image is d r a m a t i c a l l y and psycho logic all^

a p t , it is s t i l l a p o e t i c monst ros i ty . Dryden probably d i d

n o t read t h e fo l lowing passage from Longinus u n t i l a f t e r

he completed The Conquest of ~ r a n a d a . " O n r e a d i n g it, h e

must have recognized i ts a p p l i c a b i l i t y t o h i s own work.

Longinus complains o f t h e excessive imagery i n a l o s t p l a y

by Aeschylus: "Such t h i n g s a r e n o t t r a g i c b u t pseudo- t ragic

-- ' f lame-wreaths, ' and 'be lching t o t h e sky, ' and Boreas

represented a s a ' f l u t e - p l a y e r , ' and a l l the rest of it. They

a r e t u r b i d i n express ion and confused i n imagery r a t h e r

than t h e product of i n t e n s i t y , and each one of them, if

examined i n t h e l i g h t of day, s i n k s l i t t l e by l i t t l e from

t h e t e r r i b l e i n t o t h e ~ o n t e m p t i b l e . * * ~ l Although Dryden was

s u r e l y aware of t h e dangers of l a p s i n g i n t o tumidi ty i n

h i s e f f o r t s t o push beyond convent ional ly h e r o i c r h e t o r i c ,

he o f t e n pushed ahead r e g a r d l e s s , f i n d i n g humour i n excess

and conver t ing t h a t humour i n t o conscious w i t . I n passages

such a s Almanzorts t t t a ran tu la** speech, t h e e p i c s p i r i t , over-

burdened wi th metaphysical w i t , o f t e n t o p p l e s over i n t o

s a t i r e , and w e can see, here , t h e beginnnings of a mock-heroic

t r a d i t i o n which extends through Drydents Absalom and ~ c h i t o p h e l ,

MacFlecknoe and The Medal t o t h e works o f Pope and Fie ld ing .

~ l t h o u g h t h i s s a t i r i c s p i r i t pervades t h e " t a r a n t u l a w

speech, t h e r e is evidence t h a t he s t i l l t a k e s Almanzor,

and heroism, ve ry s e r i o u s l y . The t a r a n t u l a image, though

psychologica l ly e f f e c t i v e , shocks and amuses, a s does " I ' m

nummtd, and f i x t d , and s c a r c e my e y e b a l l s move; / I f e a r

it is t h e Lethargy of Love:" However, cons ider t h e unadorned

honesty of * * A r m e s , and t h e dus ty f i e l d I less admire; / And

s o f t e n s t r a n g e l y i n some new d e s i r e , " o r t h e psychologica l

accuracy of "Evtn while I speak and look, I change y e t more; /

And now am nothing t h a t I was before." While t h e r e is nothing

r e a l l y ou t s t and ing about t h e s e l i n e s , they do i n d i c a t e t h a t

an e f f o r t is s t i l l being made t o d e p i c t t h e h e r o i c c h a r a c t e r

i n a s e r i o u s manner and t o render it a t l e a s t p a r t i a l l y

plausible, The lines, "Honour burns in me, not so fiercely

bright, / But pale as fires when mastered by the light,"

greatly strengthen this impression. The image here is

pleasing and completely fitting; it anticipates Dryden's

skillful uses of light imagery in the opening lines of

Dim, as the borrowvd beams of Moon and Stars

To lonely, weary, wandrinq Travellers,

Is Reason to the Soul: And as on high,

Those rowling Fires discover but the Sky

Not light us here; So Reason's glimmering Ray

Was lent, not to assure our doubtfull way,

But quide US upward to a better Day.

And as those nightly Tapers disappear

When Day's bright Lord ascends our Hemisphere;

So pale grows Reason at Relisions sight;

So dyes, and so dissolves in Supernatural Light,

(lines 1-11)

Here the image of a lesser light giving way to a greater

clarifies the difficult concept of reason as but a stepping-

stone to revealed truth; Dryden applies it with equal

felicity to love's mastery of "honourv or the passion for

self-aggrandizement within Almanzor's soul. In this couplet,

at least, satire gives way to a serious treatment of heroic

c h a r a c t e r . Y e t t h e o v e r a l l impression given by t h i s speech

is a puzzl ing one. S a t i r i c r a n t and s e r i o u s expos i t ion

appear i n uncomfortable juxtapos i t ion . Within t h e p lay ,

such a speech s e r v e s w e l l t o r e f l e c t t h e h e r o ' s confused

mental s t a t e , b u t i n a l a r g e r con tex t , it r e v e a l s perhaps

more c l e a r l y than any o t h e r comparable speech i n h i s e a r l y

p lays Dryden's ambiguous and u n s e t t l e d a t t i t u d e towards

heroism.

Almanzor t h u s su r renders t o love , b u t n o t without a

f i n a l s t r u g g l e , "1 wonnot love you; g i v e m e back m y h e a r t .

/ But g i v e it a s you had it, f i e r c e and brave . . ." (I C.G.

I I I . i . p . 5 4 ) . H i s f i n a l sur render is, a s b e f i t s a hero, complete

and unreserved, " I ' m a l l o ' r e love: / Nay, I am Love; Love

s h o t , and s h o t s o f a s t , / H e s h o t himself i n t o my b r e a s t

a t l a s t t @ ( I C.G. I I I . i . p . 5 5 ) . The hero t h u s , r a t h e r than

al lowing himself t o be diminished by h i s su r render t o an ex-

t e r n a l f o r c e , ennobles t h a t f o r c e by i n v e s t i n g it wi th h i s

own tremendous ego. However, t r u e obedience t o an e x t e r n a l

w i l l s t i l l l i e s ahead. Like Maximin, Almanzor hopes f o r

immediate consummation of h i s passion. Only when Almahide

t e l l s him of h e r unbreakable vow t o ~ o a b d e l i n does he t r u l y

a p p r e c i a t e h i s s i t u a t i o n , h i s p o s i t i o n of subserv ience t o

an e x t e r n a l o r d e r of t h i n g s :

Give m e t h a t Minute when she made h e r vow!

"That Minute, even t h e happy, from t h e i r b l i s s

might give:

"And those who l i v e i n g r i e f e , a s h o r t e r t i m e

would l i v e ,

So smal l a l i n k , i f broke, t h t e t e r n a l chain

Would, l i k e d iv ided waters , joyn again.

I t wonnot be; t h e f u g i t i v e is gone,

P r e s t by t h e crowd of fol lowing Minutes on;

That prec ious Moment's o u t of Nature f l e d :

And i n t h e heap of common rubbish layd,

O f t h i n g s t h a t once have been, and a r e decaytd,

( I Q . I I I . i . p . 5 6 )

With "It wonnot bew Almanzor recognizes , f o r t h e f i r s t t i m e ,

t h e e x i s t e n c e of t h i n g s t h a t a r e beyond h i s c o n t r o l t o

change. From t h i s p o i n t he becomes a w i l l i n g p u p i l of Almahide,

**Forgive t h a t f u r y which my Soul does move; / 'Tis t h e Essay

of an untaught f i r s t love. . , .There 's something noble

l a b ' r i n g i n m y brest: / This raging f i r e which through t h e

Mass does move, / S h a l l purge my d ross , and s h a l l r e f i n e

my Love" ( I Q . I I I . i . p . 5 6 ) .

Having thus placed h i s " i r r e g u l a r w hero i n t h e

most uncomfortab1.e of s o c i a l r o l e s , and t h e most a r t i f i c i a l

of l i t e r a r y r o l e s , t h a t of t h e P l a t o n i c o r c o u r t l y love r ,

Dryden must w r e s t l e , through t h e remainder of t h e p lay , with

t h e problems o f r e t a i n i n g Almanzor's i n d i v i d u a l i t y and those

q u a l i t i e s which make him t r u l y hero ic . Almanzor must steer

a middle course between t h e unchecked s e l f - d e f e a t i n g pass ions

o f a Maximin and t h e f l a w l e s s " p e r f e c t w behaviour of a Por-

phyr ius o r an Ozmyn, and he must do t h i s while locked i n t h e

p a r t of a c o u r t l y l o v e r , a r o l e which, s i n c e its incep t ion i n

t h e medieval romance, had never been more than a c o l l e c t i o n of

- r i g i d l y p resc r ibed a t t i t u d e s , l eav ing no margin f o r indiv-

i d u a l i t y o r e c c e n t r i c i t y of behaviour. I n its evo lu t ion from

t h e medieval romance, through t h e poems o f Spenser and Tasso,

and p a r t i c u l a r l y through such French romances a s ~ * ~ r f g ' s

~stre/e and t h e p a s t o r a l dramas of Lodowick C a r l e l l , Thomas

and Henry Kil l igrew, and S i r John Suckl ing which they inf luenced,

t h e r o l e of P l a t o n i c love r had become s t e a d i l y more and more

s t y l i z e d . Dryden mainta ins Almanzor's h e r o i c c h a r a c t e r f i r s t

by s t r e s s i n g h i s s t r a n g r e a c t i o n s t o t h e conf ines of such a

r o l e , and l a t e r by l ay ing heavy emphasis on h i s "heroicw

capac i ty f o r s u f f e r i n g , f o r enduring t h e f r u s t r a t i o n s t h a t t h i s

r o l e imposes upon him,

Through t o t h e end of t h e p lay , Dryden p l a c e s

h i s hero i n a success ion of s i t u a t i o n s wherein, i n h i s r o l e

of c o u r t l y lover , he must subordina te h i s own w i l l t o t h e

p e r f e c t l y v i r t u o u s w i l l of h i s mistress. In each he s t r u g g l e s

h e r o i c a l l y but unsuccess fu l ly a g a i n s t t h e conf ines of his

ro le , and i n some he makes a small advance towards h i s

goal of union with Almahide and Dryden's goal of h i s t o t a l

in tegrat ion in to society. The first s ign i f i can t occasion,

a f t e r h i s f i r s t meeting with her, occurs when Almanzor,

having recaptured the Alhambra f o r Boabdelin and the Aben-

cerrago fact ion, is on the point of re leasing Almahide t o

the king. Almahide pra ises h i s chivalryr

Almanzor can from every Subject r a i s e

New matter f o r our Wonder and h i s Praise.

You bound and freed m e , but the difference is,

That showed your Valour; but your Vertue t h i s .

Almanzor, encouraged, again presses h i s s u i t , but is again

f irmly re jected by Almahider T e a s e ; cease a Sute / So

vain t o you, and troublesome t o m e . . .* Almanzor demands

h i s way: w Y o ~ wonnot hear! you must both Hear and grant; / For,

Madam, there 's an impudence i n want." He is again refused and

s t e rn ly rebuked: myour way is somewhat strange t o ask Relief;

/ You ask with threat 'ning, l i k e a begging Thief . . . n ( I C.G.IV.ii.p.71). Frustrated, Almanzor r e t r e a t s t o fantasy,

cha rac te r i s t i ca l ly displaying, l i k e ~ a x i m i n , h i s heroic

temperament through rhe to r i c where it cannot be maintained

i n action:

I f not a Subject, then a Ghost I ' l e be;

And from a Ghost, you know, no p l a c e is free.

Asleep, Awake, I1 le haunt you every where;

From my white shrowd, groan Love i n t o your Ear:

When i n your Lovers A r m s you s l e e p a t n i g h t ,

I ' le g l i d e i n cold betwixt , and seize my Right.

And is l t n o t b e t t e r i n your Nuptial Bed,

To have a l i v i n g lover than a dead?

( I G . I V . i i . p . 7 2 )

The s t r u g g l e cont inues bu t is resolved , temporar i ly , when

Almahide e x p l a i n s i n more d e t a i l t h e ' na tu re o f h e r vows,

and g i v e s him leave t o p e t i t i o n t h e au thors of h e r s u i t ,

Boabdelin and h e r f a t h e r , Abenemar, Almanzor is overjoyed

a t h e r r ecogn i t ion o f him a s a s u i t o r , and is o n l y too w i l l i n g

t o humble h imsel f , temporar i ly , before Abenemar and Boabdelin

i n o r d e r t o ga in he r : "Born, a s I am still t o command, n o t

sue, / Y e t you s h a l l s e e t h a t I can beg f o r you . . ." ( I - C.G.

I V . ii. p , 73) . As t h e s e l i n e s i n d i c a t e , Almanzor cons iders t h e

a c t of subordina t ing himself t o another , because of t h e

immense e x e r t i o n of w i l l t h a t it r e q u i r e s (remember S t .

Catharine 's admonitions t o Maximin), a s h e r o i c , and the re -

f o r e worthy of him. True humil i ty , and t h e heroism of enduring

t h a t which cannot be changed, has y e t t o be learned.

Almanzorls encounter a s a s u i t o r with Boabdelin

is a d i s a s t e r , H i s excess ive p r i d e and Boabdelin 's jealousy

result in his imprisonment and the threat of his death.

Almahide must intercede for his life. In this scene Almanzor

reverts to his original character as a ranting primitive hero,

but, being no longer in the situation of one, his behaviour

wins him not glory, but rather exile and the threat of death.

Humbled, he must suffer the admonitions of his mistress, to

whom he now owes his life:

Almahide: Rash men, like you, and impotent of will,

Give chance no time to turn; but urge her still.

. She would repent; you push the quarrel on,

And once, because she went, she must be gone.

(I - C.G.V.i.p.84)

Earlier Almanzor had responded to Boabdelinvs decree of

banishment with characteristic arrogance: "merevere-I goe

there can no exile be; / But from Almanzorts sight I banish

thee . . ." (I g.V.i.p.80). Now, however, thus chastened

by Almahide, but assured of her love, even if it can be only

the love of a sister, he accepts his banishment with some-

thing like resignation and humility:

Almanzor: Like one thrust out in a cold Winters

night,

Yet shivering, underneath your gate I stay:

One look -- I cannot go before 'tis day -- (she beckens him to be qone.

Not one -- Farewell: what ere my s u f f e r i n g s be

Within; I ' le speak Farewell , a s loud a s she:

I w i l l n o t be out-done i n Constancy. . . . (I G . V . i . p . 8 5 )

The first p a r t of t h e p l a y thus ends with t h e temporary

d e f e a t of t h e hero.

By d i sp lay ing him f i r s t a s a pure ly p r i m i t i v e

hero, f o r t h e better p a r t of two a c t s , then a s an " i r regular1@

hero , shaking h i s cha in , s t r u g g l i n g a g a i n s t t h e conf ines of

a s o c i a l r o l e unna tu ra l t o him, Dryden has t h u s f a r sus ta ined

convincingly t h e f o r c e of Almanzor's cha rac te r . Although he

h a s been c a r e f u l t o p o i n t o u t t h e dangers of such a tempera-

ment, Dryden h a s taken pa ins t o stress its p o t e n t i a l f o r

g r e a t n e s s wi th in s o c i e t y , not on ly through h i s choice o f ima-

gery a t t h e beginning of t h e p lay , bu t a l s o through a number

o f speeches made by o t h e r c h a r a c t e r s , p a r t i c u l a r l y Almahide,

commenting on Almanzor's "na tura l" v i r t u e . Abenemar epi tomizes

t h i s q u a l i t y i n t h e s e l i n e s :

Abenemar: A Soul too f i e r y , and too g r e a t t o guide:

H e moves excent r ique , l i k e a wandring s t a r ;

Whose Motion's j u s t ; though ' tis n o t r e g u l a r .

( I C.G.V.i.p.78)

The image of t h e e c c e n t r i c p l a n e t is ingenious; it conveys

p r e c i s e l y t h e sense of an h e r o i c f i g u r e who, though

-seemingly independent, w i l l be u l t i m a t e l y answerable t o an

o r d e r j-mposed from without. Almahide, upon f i r s t s ee ing him,

senses immediately both t h e immense power of h i s c h a r a c t e r

and i ts p o t e n t i a l f o r good:

Almahide: Mark bu t how terrible h i s Eyes appear!

And y e t t h e r e ' s something roughly noble t h e r e ,

Which, i n unfashion'd Nature, looks Divine;

And l i k e a Gemm does i n t h e Quarry sh ine .

( I G . I I I . i . p . 5 3 )

More s t r i k i n g is her r e a c t i o n t o Almanzor, t h e e f f e c t of h e r

d iscovery i n him of "an excel lence beyond Boabdelinee:

How b l e s t was I before t h i s f a t a l day!

When a l l I knew of love, was t o obey!

'Twas l i f e becalm'd; without a g e n t l e b rea th ;

Though n o t s o cold , y e t motionless a s dea th .

A heavy q u i e t s t a t e : but love a l l s t r i f e ,

A l l r ap id ; is t h e Hurrican o f l i f e .

Had love n o t shown m e , I had never seen

An Excellence beyond Boabdelin.

I had n o t , ayming h igher , l o s t my r e s t ;

But wi th a vu lga r good been d u l l y blest.

But, i n Almanzor, having seen what's r a r e ,

Now I have l e a r n t too sha rp ly t o compare,

And, l i k e a F a v ' r i t e , quickly i n d i sg race ,

J u s t know t h e va lue 'ere I loose t h e p lace .

( I Q . V . i . p . 8 2 - 8 3 )

Here w e have t h e essence of Almanzor's " n a t u r a l w v i r t u e , t h a t

q u a l i t y which makes him both h e r o i c and e s s e n t i a l t o a hea l thy

s o c i e t y , t h e a b i l i t y t o imbue wi th h i s own boundless energy

h i s surroundings and those i n c o n t a c t wi th him: t h e

h i t h e r t o qu iescen t and t r a c t a b l e Almahide, t h e uncomfortable

f o r m a l i t i e s of P l a t o n i c love, even t h e moribund regime of

Boabdelin. I t is t h i s q u a l i t y which sets him a p a r t from t h e

t o t a l l y self-absorbed Maximin whose pure ly d e s t r u c t i v e

energy i n s p i r e s nothing but f e a r o r h a t r e d i n those around him.

Despi te h i s h e r o i c q u a l i t i e s , however, Almanzor

leaves Granada, a t t h e end of P a r t I, a s a f a i l u r e . The

f o r c e o f h i s pass ion has impressed, but n o t overcome s o c i e t y ,

not even t h e weak s o c i e t y of Boabdelin's c o u r t , P a r t I of - The

Conquest of Granada could be thought of a s a t ragedy complete

i n i t s e l f , i ts theme being t h e f a i l u r e of t h e h e r o i c

temperament, through i t s i n a b i l i t y t o endure t h e shock of

s o c i a l con tac t , t o r e a l i z e its g r e a t s o c i a l p o t e n t i a l . S ince

t h e r e was an i n t e r v a l of about a f o r t n i g h t between t h e

performances of P a r t I and P a r t 11, 23

it is p o s s i b l e t h a t

Dryden intended h i s audience t o cons ider s e r i o u s l y t h e impli-

c a t i o n s of Almanzor's d e f e a t before r e t u r n i n g t o wi tness h i s

f u r t h e r adventures.

The e a r l y a c t s of P a r t I1 d e p i c t t h e hero a t h i s

lowest ebb. A t Almahide's bidding a chastened Almanzor

r e t u r n s t o Granada and on t h r e e occas ions goes t o Boabdelin's

a i d , con ten t now merely with t h e honour o f s e r v i n g her :

Almnzor: I ' le s t o p a t noth ing t h a t appears s o brave;

Iwle doet :and now I no Reward w i l l have.

You've given my Honour such an ample F i e l d ,

That I may dye, bu t t h a t s h a l l never y i e l d .

Spight of my s e l f I ' l e S tay , F igh t , Love, Despair;

And I can do a l l t h i s , because I dare . . . . (11 Q . I I . i i i . p . 1 1 4 )

An i n c r e a s i n g sense o f r e s i g n a t i o n , even d e s p a i r , appears i n

Almanzorts speeches a s he comes t o r e a l i z e t h a t i n s e r v i n g

Almahide, i n h i s r o l e of c o u r t l y love r , he has , i n e f f e c t ,

descended a s w e l l t o t h e p o l i t i c a l r o l e of v a s s a l t o Boab-

d e l i n . H e rejects Spain f o r a second t i m e , bu t f o r d i f f e r e n t

reasons when, dur ing a t r u c e i n which p r i s o n e r s a r e exchanged,

t h e Duke of Arcos sugges ts t h a t he fo r sake t h e ungra te fu l

Boabdelin and "That beauteous Queen, whom you can never

gain. . . ." H i s r e p l y i n d i c a t e s a humble acceptance of h i s

p o s i t i o n :

Almanzor: Then be it so: l e t m e have no r e t u r n

From him but Hatred, and from h e r , b u t Scorn.

There is t h i s comfort i n a noble Fate ,

That I deserve to be more fortunate. . . . (I1 ~.IIl.iii,p.l25)

There is a similar note of resignation when he rejects the

sexual and political temptations of the ambitious Lyndaraxa:

Almanzor: 'Tis pity words which none but Gods

should hear,

Should lose their sweetness in a Soldiers Ear:

I am not that Almanzor whom you praise;

But your fair Mouth can fair Idea's raise:

I am a wretch, to whom it is denyed

T'accept, with Honour, what I wish with Pride.

And, since I fight not for my self, must bring

The fruits of all my Conquests to the King.

(11 ~.III.iii,p.l27)

Finally, in a supreme gesture of despair, he elevates his

constancy to an unrequited love above all else in his nature

by identifying it with his immortal soul:

Almanzor: Though Almahide with scorn rewards my care;

Yet; than to change, 'tis nobler to despair.

My Love's my Soul; and that from Fate is free:

*Tis that unchanged; and deathless part of me.

(11 ~.III,iii.p.128)

Almanzor embraces despair here with the same self -identifying

intensity 1~it.h which he accepted love. Can the audience accept

s u c h behaviour a s e q u a l l y he ro ic? Although h i s s u f f e r i n g

may be thought of a s "heroic ," a s Dryden hopes it w i l l be

!'*I can do a l l t h i s , because I da ree*) , Almanzor, i n h i s

complete acceptance 05 h i s f a t e , c l e a r l y d e p a r t s from t h e

p a t t e r n of the p r i m i t i v e he ro s t r u g g l i n g a g a i n s t des t iny .

The hero has sunk t o s o low a p o i n t t h a t one f i n d s it

d i f f i c u l t t o b e l i e v e t h a t h i s p r i m i t i v e pass ion has n o t been

e n t i r e l y ext inguished -- h i s d e s p a i r be ing simply t h e

negat ion of h i s former pass ion -- t h a t he h a s n o t been taken

over completely by h i s r o l e of c o u r t l y lover .

I n o r d e r , t h e r e f o r e , t o s u s t a i n h i s audience 's

i n t e r e s t i n h i s hero, Dryden must demonstrate t h a t Almanzorq s

pass ions have no t been ext inguished, b u t merely subl imated,

temporari ly , i n h i s t o o thorough i d e n t i f i c a t i o n with h i s

r o l e of P l a t o n i c lover . Almanzor r e t u r n s t o b a t t l e , and it is

soon c l e a r t h a t , i n war a t l e a s t , h i s p r i m i t i v e e n e r g i e s

a r e s t i l l ve ry much i n evidence:

The minds o f Heroes t h e i r own measures a r e ,

They s t and exempted from t h e r u l e s o f War.

One Loose, one S a l l y e o f the Heroes Soul,

Does a l l t h e M i l i t a r y A r t con t rou l ,

While t im'rous W i t goes round, o r foords t h e shore;

He shoots t h e Gulph; and 'is a l r e a d y o m r e .

And, when t h q E n t h u s i a s t i q u e f i t is spen t ,

Loolcs back amaz'd a t what he underwent.

(11 Q . I V . i i . p . 1 3 3 )

The sent iments of t h i s speech, a s w e l l a s t h e l i n g e r i n g

e f f e c t s of Lyndaraxa's a t tempt t o seduce him, a r e s u r e l y i n

h i s mind when, soon a f t e r i n a surge of pass ion , Almanzor

abandons t h e r o l e of P l a t o n i c love r , "shoots t h e g u l f , " and

a t tempts a d i r e c t seduct ion of h i s mistress, H e r e , where he

h a s s o c a r e f u l l y brought h i s hero back from the cond i t ion

of d e s p a i r t o the p o i n t where he is m h e r o i c a l l y w ready t o

seve r a l l t i e s with s o c i e t y , Dryden r e v e a l s AlmanzoreS t r u e

s o c i a l r o l e , It is done through t h e deus ex machina device

of a revealed parenthood which both l i n k s Almanzor i r r evocab ly

t o s o c i e t y and guarantees him a l o f t y p o s i t i o n wi th in it.

The ghos t of h i s mother b a r s h i s en t rance t o Almahide's

apartments and t e l l s him of h i s t r u e o r i g i n and h i s l e g i t i m a t e

f a m i l i a l t ies t o C h r i s t i a n Spain:

From a n c i e n t Blood thy Father ' s Linage s p r i n g s ;

Thy Mothers thou d e r i v e s t from sternrns of Kings.

A C h r i s t i a n born, and born again, t h a t day,

When sacred Water wash'd t h y s i n s away.

Yet bred i n e r r o r s thou d o s t mis-imploy

That s t r e n g t h Heav'n gave thee , and i ts f l o c k des t roy .

(11 - C.G. I V . i i i . p . 140)

Having so r e c e n t l y res igned himself t o the u l t i m a t e conse-

quences of accep t ing love r a t h e r than pe r sona l honour a s

the c e n t e r of h i s being, Almanzor ( i r o n i c a l l y a s t h e

immediate e f f e c t of h i s sudden impulsive a t tempt t o free

himself from t h e s e consequences) is once again thrown i n t o a

s t a t e of turmoi l , l i k e t h a t on h i s f irst encounter wi th

Almahide, a s o t h e r cons ide ra t ions now contend f o r th i s

p o s i t i o n . H e is now made aware of new r e s t r i c t i o n s which bind

him t o a s o c i a l o r d e r a l i e n t o t h a t t o which he had e a r l i e r

submit ted himself f o r t h e sake of h i s m i s t r e s s . H e f i n d s

himself bound t o t h i s o t h e r , C h r i s t i a n , s o c i e t y by three

new imperat ives , t o which h i s "na tu ra lw v i r t u e i n s t i n c t i v e l y

responds: f i l i a l p i e t y , p o l i t i c a l a l l e g i a n c e ( impl ied by his

mother's mention of a r o y a l ances t ry , bu t n o t f u l l y r e a l i z e d

u n t i l he l e a r n s t h a t h i s f a t h e r is t h e Duke of A r m s ) , and

C h r i s t i a n mora l i ty , a mora l i ty t h a t m i l i t a t e s a g a i n s t h i s

love f o r Almahide: "Heaven does no t now t h y Ignorance

reprove; / But warns t h e e from know C r i m e s of lawless

I-ove . . ." (I1 ~ . I V . i i i . p o 1 4 0 ) .

Almanzor, h i s w i l l t o r n by t h e c o n f l i c t between

h is love f o r Almahide and h i s new l o y a l t i e s , breaks down

completely. I n h o r r o r he renounces a l l t ies wi th s o c i e t y ,

becoming once again t h e p r i m i t i v e i c o n o c l a s t i c hero. H e

r e v e r t s t o t h e b l i n d f u r y of the b u l l :

Almanzor: Let Fa te be Fate; t h e Lover and t h e Brave

A r e r ankgd , a t l e a s t , above t h e vulgar Slave:

Love makes m e w i l l i n g t o my dea th t o run;

And courage scorns t h e dea th it cannot shun,

I n t h i s pass iona te s t a t e Almanzor renews h i s e f f o r t s t o

seduce Almahide ( t h e ghost leaves h e r t o fend f o r h e r s e l f )

and is prevented on ly when she t h r e a t e n s s u i c i d e . A t t h i s

t h e hero r e t u r n s t o h i s senses , and t o h i s r o l e o f P l a t o n i c

lover . Once again he is t e s t e d i n t h i s r o l e when he must

defend Almahide, by combat, a g a i n s t charges of a d u l t e r y ,

even though, i n h i s jea lous passion, he doubts h e r innocence,

H e r e , f o r t h e f i rs t t ime, Almanzor d e c l a r e s himself t o be

motivated i n a s o c i a l r o l e , n o t by h i s acquired love f o r

Almahide, but by h i s inna te "primit ive" concern f o r personal

honour, "Yet h e r pro tec t ion I must undertake; / Not now

f o r Love; hut f o r my Honours sake. / That movmd m e f i r s t ,

and must o b l i g e me s t i l l . . . ." (I1 Q.V. i . p . l 4 8 ) , and

i n c l e a r i n g t h e r e p u t a t i o n of t h e innocent Almahide, h i s

p r i m i t i v e energy is seen a t l a s t t o work d i r e c t l y , r a t h e r

than i n c i d e n t a l l y , towards t h e good of s o c i e t y . The hero

is now ready f o r h i s complete i n t e g r a t i o n with s o c i e t y ,

This comes i n t h e f ina l . scene of t h e p l a y with t h e sudden

triumph of Spain over t h e f o r c e s of Eoabdelin, aided p a r t l y

by t h e t reacherous Lyndaraxa, but p r i m a r i l y through Almanzorms

r ecogn i t ion o f , and h i s r e f u s a l t o f i g h t a g a i n s t , h i s

f a t h e r t h e Duke of Arcos. The he ro ' s remaining inner con-

flicts a r e now qu ick ly resolved , t y p i c a l l y , from without :

Almahide is f r e e d from h e r marriage by Boabdelin 's dea th and

from h e r vows of c h a s t i t y (made a g a i n s t Boabdelin a f t e r

t h e t r i a l by combat) by I s a b e l l a ' s i n t e r v e n t i o n . With

Almanzorqs "heroicw acceptance of h i s r i g h t f u l p lace i n

t h e f l o u r i s h i n g moral s o c i e t y of C h r i s t i a n Spain, "1

b r i n g a h e a r t which homage never knew; / Y e t it f i n d s

something of it self i n you: / Something s o k ingly , t h a t

my haughty mind / Is drawn t o yours; because ' t is of a

kindw (I1 Q . V . i . p . l 6 1 ) , t h e p l a y comes t o i ts triumphant

conclusion.

Whether o r n o t Dryden has succeeded i n h i s goa l of

b r ing ing t h e e p i c hero t o t h e s t a g e is d i f f i c u l t t o a s c e r t a i n .

I n c o n t r a s t t o Tyrannic Love, where w e r a r e l y s e e Maximin

a s anything more than a r h e t o r i c a l platform f o r a f i x e d po in t

o f view, we have i n The Conquest of Granada, a s i n e p i c , an

ex tens ive and d e t a i l e d t rea tment of a p r o t a g o n i s t ' s developing

c h a r a c t e r and o f t h e problem of t h e hero i n s o c i e t y . However,

it is a t rea tment which is i n v i r t u a l l y every way h i g h l y

a r t i f i c i a l and forced , be ly ing t h a t q u a l i t y o f spon tane i ty

e s s e n t i a l t o a t r u e Herculean hero. The atmosphere of a r t i f i c e

which pervades t h e p l a y is t h e unavoidable r e s u l t , bo th of

Dryden's use of t h e "ennobling" h e r o i c coup le t and of h i s

a t tempt t o t r a n s f e r t o t h e more r e s t r i c t i v e medium of t h e

s t a g e t h a t impression of u n i v e r s a l i t y which is c h a r a c t e r i s t i c

of t h e e p i c . To achieve such an e f f e c t Dryden chose t o

compress, r a t h e r than s e l e c t from, a l a r g e body of m a t e r i a l ,

and, i n o r d e r t o accomodate it a l l , he had t o devise a

h i g h l y i n t r i c a t e p l o t s t r u c t u r e . The Conquest of Granada,

l i k e most h e r o i c p l a y s , a s Martin P r i c e s t a t e s i n h i s To t h e Palace of Wisdom, **is t r y i n g f o r an experience d i f f e r e n t

from t h e t r a g i c . In making f a t e so obvious, oppress ive , and

busy an agent , Dryden prevents t h e a c t i o n from moving

inexorably t o i ts c e n t r a l t r a g i c r e v e r s a l ; i n s t e a d w e are

given a success ion of r e v e r s a l s , The s o l u t i o n o f any one

problem o n l y in t roduces t h e next . The f o r t u i t o u s world makes

t h e s e c h a r a c t e r s almost comically impotent. Only t h e i r

in t r ans igence g ives them s t a b i l i t y . These c h a r a c t e r s a r e n o t

immovable, t h e y a r e i n e x t i ngui shable ; and t h e i r movement,

t h e cons tan t reforming and r e d i r e c t i o n of t h e i r w i l l and

s e l f , is t h e on ly form of constancy a v a i l a b l e t o them."24

Wmyn c l e a r l y f i ts t h i s p a t t e r n ; he fo l lows p r e c i s e l y every

s t e p of t h e "dance which is wel l cont r ived ," h i s c h a r a c t e r

remaining unchanged throughout, Almanzor, too , fo l lows t h e

dance, t h e d i f f e r e n c e being t h a t h i s c h a r a c t e r does change,

b u t only a s guided by t h e s t e p s of t h e dance, I t can be

argued t h a t Ach i l l e s , Rinaldo, and even Hercules a l s o move

along courses set f o r them by even t s over which they have

no c o n t r o l ; however, each is a f f e c t e d by a s i n g l e event , n o t

a success ion of them: Achilles* wrath is motivated by

Agamemnon's s e i z u r e of Briseis, h i s p r i z e ; Rinaldo 's

adventures stem from h i s being banished from t h e C h r i s t i a n

camp by Goffredo; Hercules* f a t e is s e a l e d , a t l e a s t i n

Sophocles* ve r s ion of the legend of the poisoned shirt , by

a momentary jea lous l a p s e o f h i s w i f e . Thei r r e a c t i o n s t o

t h e s e even t s make up t h e rest o f t h e i r s t o r i e s and t a k e on

t h e importance of independent a c t i o n s , I n The Conquest o f

Granada one is c o n t i n u a l l y aware t h a t Almanzor is r e a c t i n q

t o the most r e c e n t even t which has b e f a l l e n h i m , o r being

prepared f o r an even t t h a t is about t o b e f a l l him, Fate is

indeed p r e s e n t i n t h e I l i a d , Gerusalemrne L ibe ra ta , and t h e

Trachidae, but s u r e l y n o t t o such an oppress ive degree a s

i n The Conquest of Granada.

Almanzor*s h e r o i c na tu re , denied its f u l l scope

by t h e i n t r i c a t e l y woven p l o t , appears i n t h e r h e t o r i c of

h i s v e r b a l r e a c t i o n t o t h e even t s which b e f a l l him, and, a s

we have seen, t h i s r h e t o r i c , and those speeches made by

o t h e r s which desc r ibe him, o f t e n d e p i c t q u i t e a c c u r a t e l y

t h e nature of heroism, bu t , l a r g e l y because of t h e a r t i f i c e

of t h e rhymed coup le t , never f u l l y evoke it. The essence

of t h e t r u e " i r r e g u l a r w hero, then, h i s spontanei ty , i s i n

l a r g e p a r t missing i n Almanzor, and without it Dryden cannot

be s a i d t o have succeeded completely i n h i s goa l o f br inging

t h e e p i c hero t o t h e s t a g e . Nevertheless , Almanzor r e p r e s e n t s

h i s c l o s e s t approach. Van Doren has t h e s e words t o say

concerning t h e l ack o f t h e sublime i n Drydents poet ry :

"Dryden spen t energy on both h i s f i g u r e s and h i s h e r o i c

d e c l a r a t i o n s ; bu t t h e effect is one of words r a t h e r than

th ings , The words seem s t a r k naked on the page; they throw

o f f no en la rg ing r i n g s of suggest ion o r i l l u s i o n ; t h e r e is

no l i g h t behind." 25 These comments apply wi th p a r t i c u l a r

f o r c e t o t h e c r e a t i o n of Almanzor: a l l t h e i n g r e d i e n t s of

t h e h e r o i c temperament a r e t h e r e , c a r e f u l l y measured ou t ,

y e t t h e e s s e n t i a l spark of l i f e is missing.

NOTES

l ~ o h n Dryden, nDedication t o H i s Royal Highness the Duke, i n ~ r v d e n , - t h e Dramatic Works, ed, ~ o n t a g u e Summers (1932; rp t . New Yorkr Gordian Press, 1968), 111, 17.

2~ryden , "Of Heroique Playes, an Essay,* Summers, 111, 24.

3cf. John C. Sherwood, *Dryden and t h e C r i t i c a l Theories of Tasso,** Comparative Li terature , 18 (1966), 351-352. Dryden and Tasso did not merely feel a theore t i ca l obl igat ion t o the ancients; they w e r e enthusias ts f o r c l a s s i c a l values who wished to encourage c l a s s i c a l order and decorum i n the drama and e p i c of t h e i r own countries, Further, both had to take account not only of ngenius and contemporary fashionsn but a l so of a nat ive t r a d i t i o n seemingly a t odds with t h e i r c l a s s i c a l values -- f o r Dryden the t r a d i t i o n of the Elizabethan drama, f o r Tasso the t r a d i t i o n of Ariosto and t h e romances.

4 ~ o r my remarks on the e p i c t r a d i t i o n and on Tasso's posit ion within it I am indebted ch ief ly t o the following works:

C.M. Bowra, From V i r q i l t o Milton (1945; rpt. Londont Mamillan, 1965)

Joe l E. Spingarn, A History of Li te rary C r i t i c i s m i n the Renaissance (1899; rp t . New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1963)

E.M.W. Ti l lyard, The Enalish E ~ i c and its Backaround (1954; rpt. New York: Oxford University Press, 1966)

5~orqua to Tasso, "Account of the Allegory of the Poem, * i n Jerusalem Delivered, by Torquato Tasso, t rans . Edward Fairfax, ed. Henry Morley. (London: G. Routledge, 1890)

7 ~ h e Herculean Hero i n Marlowe, Chapman, Shakespeare Dryden ( N e w York: Columbia Unive r s i ty P ress , and London : Chatto & Windus, 1962) , p.17.

*senecay *#Hercules Oetaeus," i n Seneca i n Nine Volumes, I X , Traqedies , 11, ed. Frank J u s t u s Miller (1917; r p t . Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univers i ty Press , and London: William Heinemann, 1968) , p.277.

9 ~ o w r a , pp. 158-59.

1 • ‹ ~ r y d e n , n E p i s t l e Dedicatory of The Rival Ladies," i n Essays of John Dryden, ed. W.P. K e r (1899; r p t . N e w York: Russe l l & Russe l l , 1961) , I, 8.

l l ~ r y d e n , "An Essay of Dramatic Poesy," K e r , I , 100-101.

3 ~ r y d e n , **Tyrannick Love, o r The Royal Martyr, Summers, 11, 335. A l l subsequent r e fe rences t o t h i s p l a y a r e c i t e d i n t h e t e x t . Page numbers given r e f e r t o t h i s e d i t i o n , S ince exac t l i n e r e fe rences cannot be given from t h i s e d i t i o n , e l l i p s e s a r e employed where needed t o i n d i c a t e t h a t a speech has n o t been quoted t o its conclusion.

1 4 ~ n n e T. Barbeau, The I n t e l l e c t u a l Design of John Drydenes Heroic Plays ( ~ e w Haven: Yale Univers i ty P ress , 1970) , p.95,

1 5 ~ r y d e n , "Tyrannick Love, Prologue ," Summers, I , 333.

1 6 ~ a r t i n P r i c e , To t h e Palace o f . Wisdom; S t u d i e s i n O r d e r and Enerqy from Dryden t o Blake (Garden Ci ty , N . Y . : Doubleday Anchor Books, 1965) , p.48.

18 Dryden, "Almanzor and Almahide, o r The Conquest of Granada

by t h e Spaniards," Summers, 111, 34. A l l subsequent. r e fe rences t o both p a r t s of t h i s p lay a r e c i t e d i n t h e text. Page numbers given r e f e r t.o t h i s e d i t i o n .

2 0 ~ h a r l e s E. Ward, The L i f e of John Dryden (Chapel H i l l : Un ive r s i ty of North Carolina P ress , l 9 6 l ) , p , 108.

2 1 ~ n g i n u s , "On t h e Sublime, It i n ed. Walter Jackson Bate ( N e w York:

C r i t i c i s m : t h e Major Texts, Harcourt , Brace, 1952) , p.63.

' L ~ r y d e n , t tRel ig io L a i c i , " i n The Poems of John Dryden, ed. James Kinsley (Oxford: Clarendon Press , 1958) , I , 311.

2 4 ~ r i c e , pp. 34-35.

25Hark Van Doren, John Dryden, a Study of h i s Poetry (1946; r p t . Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana u n i v e r s i t y Press , 1960) , p.42,

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Texts.

Bate, Walter Jackson, ed. C r i t i c i s m : t h e Major Texts . New York: Harcourt , Brace, 1952.

Dryden, John.. Dryden, t h e Dramatic Works. Ed. Montague Summers. 6 vo l s . 1932; r p t . New York: Gordian Press , 1968,

Dryden, John. Essays of John Dryden. Ed. W.P. Ker. 2 v o l s . 1899; r p t . New York: Russe l l & Russe l l , 1961.

Dryden, John. The Poems of John Dryden. Ed. James ~ i n s l e y . 4 v o l s . Oxford: Clarendon Press , 1958.

Seneca. Seneca's Traqedies . Trans, Frank J u s t u s Miller. 2 vo l s . Seneca i n Nine Volumes, 8-9. 1917; r p t . Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univers i ty P ress , and London: William Heinemann, 1968.

Works c i t e d . -

Barbeau, Anne T. The I n t e l l e c t u a l Desiqn of John D r y d e n f s Heroic Plays. New Haven: Yale Univers i ty Press , 1970.

Rowra, C.M. From V i r q i l t o Milton. 1945; r p t , London: Mami l l an , 1965.

Dobree, ~onamy.' Res tora t ion Traqedv. Oxford: Clarendon Press 1929.

P r i c e , Martin. To the Palace of wisdom: S t u d i e s i n Order avd Enerqy from Dryden t o Blake. Garden Ci ty , N.Y. : Doubleday Anchor Hooks, 1965.

.Shemood, John C. "Dryden and the C r i t i c a l Theories of Tasso." Comparative Li terature , 18 (1966), 351-359. -

Tasso, Torquato. Jerusalem Delivered. Trans. Edward Fairfax. Ed. Henry Morley. Iondon: G. Routledge, 1890.

Van Doren, Mark. John Dryden, a Study of h i s Poetry. 19463 r p t . Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1960.

Waith, Eusene M. The Herculean Hero i n Marlowe, Chapman, Shakespeare and Dryden. New Yorkr Columbia University Press, and Zlondon: Chatto & Windus, 1962.

Ward, Charles E. The Life of John Dryden. Chapel H i l l : University of North Carolina P r e s s , 1961,

Works consulted.

Bradbrook, M.C, Enqlish Dramatic Form: a History of its Development. London : Chatto and Windus, 1965.

Brower, Reuben Arthur. "Dryden's pic Manner and Virgil.*' Essent ia l Articles f o r the Study of John Dryden. Ed. H.T. Swedenberg Jr. Hamden, Conn. a Archon Books, 1966, pp. 466-492.

Chase, L.N. The ~ n q l i s h Heroic Play. 1903; rp t . New York: Russe l l & Russel l , 1965.

Child, C. G. "The R i s e of the Heroic Play." Modern Lansuaqe Notes, 19 (1904), 166-173.

Clark. W i l l i a m S. "The Definition of the 'Heroic Playg i n the Restoration Period. Review of Enqlish s tudies , 8 (1932). 437-444.

Clark, William S . "The Sources of t h e Res to ra t ion Heroic Play." Review of Encrlish S tud ies , 4 (1928), 49-63.

Deane, C e c i l V. Dramatic Theory and t h e Rhymed Heroic Play. N e w York: Barnes 6 Noble, 1931.

Gagen, Jean. "Love and Honor i n Dryden's Heroic Plays. *' PMLA, 77 (1962), 208-220.

Heath-Stubbs, John. "Dryden and t h e ~ e r o i c I d e a l . " Drydents Mind and A r t . Ed. Bruce King. Edinburgh: Ol iver and Boyd, 1969. pp. 3-23.

J e f f e r s o n , D.W. "The S ign i f i cance of Dryden's Heroic Plays." Res to ra t ion Dramatis ts : a Co l l ec t ion of C r i t i c a l Essays. Ed. E a r l Miner , Englewood C l i f f s , N . J . : Prent ice-Hall , 1966. pp. 19-35,

King, Bruce. Dryden's Major Plays. Edinburgh: Ol ive r and Boyd, 1966.

Kirsch, Arthur C. "Dryden, Corne i l l e and t h e ~ e r o i c Play. lt Modern ~ h i l o l o q y , 59 ( l 9 6 2 ) , 248-264.

Kirsch, Arthur C. Dryden's Heroic Drama. Pr ince ton: Princeton u n i v e r s i t y P ress , 1965.

Oshorn, S c o t t C. *'Heroical 'Love i n Drydents Heroic Drama. ** PMLA, 73 (1958) , 480-490.

Parsons, A. E. "The English Her0.i.c Play." Modern Lanquaqe Review, 33 (1938), 1-14.

Pendlehury, R . J . Drydcn's Heroic Plays: a Study of t h e ~ r i q i n s . 1923; r p t . New York, Russe l l & Russe l l , 1967.

R i c h t e r , Anne. "Heroic Tragedy." Res to ra t ion Theatre . Stratford-upon-Avon Studies ,6 . New York: S t . biart in 's P ress , 1965. pp. 135-158.

Roths te in , E r i c . Res to ra t ion Traqedy. Madison: Unive r s i ty of Wisconsin P ress , 1967.

Sa in tsbury , George. Dryden. 1881; r p t . D e t r o i t : Gale Research Co., 1968.

Sherwood, Margaret. Dryden's Dramatic Theory and P r a c t i c e . 1898; r p t . New York: Russe l l & Russe l l , 1966.

Spingarn, J o e l E. A H i s to ry of L i t e r a r y C r i t i c i s m i n t h e Renaissance. 1899; r p t . New York: Harcourt , Brace & World, 1963.

' T i l l y a r d , E . M . W . The Enqlish Epic and its Backqround. 1954; r p t . N e w York: Oxford Univers i ty P ress , 1966,

Wasserman, George R, John Dryden. New Yorkr Twayne, 1964.

Winterbottom, John A , "The Develo~ment of t h e Hero i n Dryden's Tragedies ," Journal of Enql i sh and Germanic P h i l o l ~ q y , 52 ( l 9 5 3 ) , 161-173.

. Zebouni, Selma A s s i r . Dryden; a Study i n Heroic Character- i z a t i o n , Baton Rouge: Louisiana S t a t e Unive r s i ty Press , 1965.

PAPER 1111 BERNARD SHAW AND CREATIVE EVOLUTION

The development of science, pa r t i cu la r ly from the

Renaissance t o the present, can be pictured a s the mnstruc-

t i o n of a series of imperfect models of the physical universe,

each a more elaborate and accurate representation of r e a l i t y ,

but each moving man himself fur ther from t h e centre of things,

and moving mind fur ther and fur ther from a dominant ro le i n

the material world. The comforting concept of manes cent ra l

posi t ion i n creation, h i s e s sen t i a l uni ty with God and nature

-- and the uni ty of mind and matter within him -- is best

expressed i n the medieval and Elizabethan models of t h e

universe which place man physically a t o r near its centre

and s p i r i t u a l l y midway between the pure i n t e l l e c t of the angels

and the lower, material tendencies of animal and vegetable life.

Despite t h e i r union within man, the dualism of mind and

matter was recognized by the Elizabethans and t h e i r predecessors

back t o Aris tot le . Unti l Descartes, however, the w i l l , and its

guide, the i n t e l l e c t , were seen (much a s Shaw saw them) a s

agents working within the material nature of man t o r a i s e

him t o a higher l eve l of existence, o r i n the Elizabethan

scheme of things, t o res tore him t o h i s prelapsarian s t a t e

and eventually, with the removal by death of the hindrance

of the body, t o complete uni ty with h i s s p i r i t u a l Maker.

To move towards manes ea r th ly goal of complete self-awareness,

however, the w i l l and the i n t e l l e c t w e r e obliged t o work

through t h e impeding medium of t h e body. "Man's under-

s t and ing , though a l l i e d t o t h e a n g e l i c a l , o p e r a t e s d i f f e r -

e n t l y . The angels understand i n t u i t i v e l y , man by t h e p a i n f u l

use of t h e d i s c u r s i v e reason. . . . The angels have pe r fec ted

t h e i r understanding and a r e r e p l e t e wi th a l l t h e knowledge t h e y

a r e a b l e t o hold. Man, even though he may i n t h e end r i v a l

t h e angels i n knowledge, begins i n ignorance. Descartes

took t h e El izabethan concept of man a s an e s s e n t i a l l y r a t i o n a l

being t o be a b a s i c p r i n c i p l e of h i s philosophy and, by draw-

i n g from t h i s premise t h e conclusion t h a t t h e m a t e r i a l body

is completely s e p a r a t e from and subse rv ien t t o t h e mind,

s e r v i n g man on ly a s a v e h i c l e and n o t a s an i n t e g r a l p a r t of

h i s make-up, he c l e a r e d t h e way f o r t h e t o t a l d ivorce of mind

from t h e m a t e r i a l universe which was f u r t h e r e d by Newton and

h i s fo l lowers i n t h e seventeenth and e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s , and

Darwin i n t h e n i n e t e e n t h century. Newton's p o s t u l a t i o n of a

pure ly mechanical universe i n i t i a t e d , b u t n o t n e c e s s a r i l y

s u s t a i n e d , by mind was c a r r i e d one s t e p f u r t h e r from t h e con-

t r o l of mind by Darwin's suggest ion t h a t mind i t s e l f was

merely a chance product of t h e mindless workings of a mechan-

i c a l universe .

A t t h e p r e s e n t t ime, when p r o b a b i l i t y theory and

quantum mechanics appear even more vehemently t o deny mind

any r o l e i n c r e a t i o n , when t h e very t e r m "crea t ion" seems t o

have l o s t its meaning, t h e a t tempts of Shaw, and of h i s

contemporaries, Samuel But ler and Henri Bergson, t o f i n d i n

t h e concept of c r e a t i v e evo lu t ion a r a t i o n a l e f o r r e s t o r i n g

mind t o something l i k e its former dominant r o l e i n t h e scheme

of t h i n g s , a r e of p a r t i c u l a r i n t e r e s t .

It is c l e a r t h a t by t h e t i m e Bernard Shaw wrote

Back t o Methuselah, i n 1921, c r e a t i v e evo lu t ion had become

a s much a r e l i g i o n with him a s soc ia l i sm had be fo re t h e Great

War. H i s f irst i n t e r e s t i n it may have a r i s e n , a long with h i s

involvement wi th soc ia l i sm, o u t of t h e p o l a r i z a t i o n of h i s

ene rg ies which h i s biographer Hesketh Pearson claims occurred

on h i s reading of Kar l Marx f o r t h e f i r s t t i m e . H e sugges ts

t h a t t h e r e was n o t t h e s l i g h t e s t doubt t h a t Das Kap i t a l had a

tremendous e f f e c t on h i m ; "it converted him t o soc ia l i sm,

turned him i n t o a r evo lu t ionary w r i t e r , made him a p o l i t i c a l

a g i t a t o r , changed h i s out look, d i r e c t e d h i s energy, inf luenced

h i s a r t , gave him a r e l i g i o n , and, a s he claimed, made a man

of him, **' Although soc ia l i sm is t h e r e l i g i o n Pearson r e f e r s

t o , c r e a t i v e evo lu t ion o r v i t a l i s m had a l s o a r e l i g i o u s s i g -

n i f i c a n c e f o r h i m by t h e t u r n of t h e century , c e r t a i n l y by

t h e t i m e Man and Superman and Major Barbara w e r e w r i t t e n .

Shaves embrace of both r e l i g i o n s , soc ia l i sm and v i t a l i s m , most

c l e a r l y set f o r t h i n Major Barbara, sprang from h i s recog-

n i t i o n of t h e f a c t t h a t one could n o t change s o c i e t y without

t h e co-operation of its c o n s t i t u e n t s , and from h i s consequent

r e j e c t i o n of t h e s o c i a l i s t b e l i e f t h a t man could be changed

s i c g l y by changing s o c i e t y ; man had t o co-operate i n t h i s

venture and t o do s o man himself had t o change. H H e had

begun by asking f o r change from without ; he l a t e r asks f o r

change from wi th in , n o t i n s t e a d , bu t a s w e l l . "

The b a s i s f o r Shawts *@not Either/Or bu t Both/Andl1 4,

approach t o man and s o c i e t y l ies i n h i s concept of t h e W i l l ,

which he may have borrowed from Schopenhauer, b u t changed

d r a s t i c a l l y t o s u i t h i s own much more o p t i m i s t i c temperament.

Whereas Schopenhauer he ld t h a t , a l though the W i l l is t h e

essence of e x i s t e n c e , it is without r e a l purpose, a c e a s e l e s s

s t r i v i n g whose o n l y apparent goa l is f u r t h e r s t r i v i n g , Shaw

saw t h e M i l l , o r t h e L i f e Force, a s having t h e d e f i n i t e g o a l

of s e l f - p e r f e c t i o n , o r r e a l i z a t i o n of its f u l l p o t e n t i a l .

Fur the r , a s Sen Gupta p o i n t s o u t i n h i s s tudy of Shaw, t h e

Shavian W i l l , u n l i k e t h a t of Schopenhauexts philosophy, does

n o t sharpen i t s e l f through c o n f l i c t with its m a t e r i a l environ-

ment, but f u n c t i o n s best when it can avoid such c ~ n f l i c t . ~ If

t h e s t r u g g l e a g a i n s t it8 environment is t o o t a x i n g t h e W i l l

f i n d s a way t o l i g h t e n t h e burden. L i l i t h , t h e p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n

of t h e L i f e Force i n Back t o Methuselah, f i n d s t h e e f f o r t of

reproduct ion t o o much f o r one i n d i v i d u a l and s o produces two

c r e a t u r e s , Adam and Eve, who w i l l s h a r e t h e e f f o r t between

them. Shaw saw soc ia l i sm n o t a s an end i n i t s e l f but a s a

means of making t h e s o c i a l environment more r e c e p t i v e t o t h e

opera t ion of t h e L i f e Force and t h e evo lu t ion of t h e Superman.

I n Major Barbara, h i s most o p t i m i s t i c p lay , Shaw

b u i l d s a drama around t h e t h e s i s t h a t poverty is t h e c e n t r a l

o b s t a c l e t o t h e f u l f i l m e n t of most of humanity's a s p i r a t i o n s ,

and t h e r e f o r e t o t h e f u l f i l m e n t of t h e L i f e Force opera t ing

through it. Poverty is t h u s t o be regarded a s t h e g r e a t e s t

of a l l crimes, and i ts e l imina t ion o r avoidance t h e duty of

both s o c i e t y a t l a r g e and each i n d i v i d u a l wi th in s o c i e t y .

Andrew Undershaft is a t once an i n d i v i d u a l wi th in t h e o l d

s o c i a l o r d e r who has succeeded through shee r will-power ( t h e

L i f e Force wi th in him) i n escaping t h e crime of poverty; t h e

founder and advocate of a new community which has abol i shed

poverty; and t h e manufacturer of means by which t h e o l d s o c i a l

o rde r can p o s s i b l y be converted t o one which would e l imina te

a l l poverty. Undershaft is a complex f i g u r e who embodies,

perhaps more than any o t h e r c h a r a c t e r i n Shaw's p lays , t h e

Shavian concept of v i t a l i s m which, though d iscussed a t much

g r e a t e r l e n g t h i n Man and Superman and Back t o Methuselah,

k e a l l y succeeds a s a dramatic f o r c e on ly i n Major Barbara.

Not only is Undershaft himself a s o r t of Superman ( c e r t a i n l y

Samuel Bu t l e r would consider him one) i n h i s s e l f - w i l l e d

evo lu t ion from poverty t o wealth and power, but he a l s o

suggests a possible path by which a primitive capitalist-

based social structure could evolve into a superior society,

based on socialist principles, which would be more receptive

to the operation of the Life Force. It is important to note

the stress that Shaw lays on the possession of money as a

prime requirement for individual happiness: socialism is

only the means by which each member of society can be

assured of sufficient money to allow him the full develop-

ment of his potential. Butler considered wealthy men as

superior beings made so by their possession of greater power

in the form of money, an economic extension of their

biological powers. Shaw carries this seemingly conservative

argument to a revolutionary conclusion: a society must be

established which would permit all responsible men the use

of this power. Such men would be far more fitting recepta-

cles for the Life Force than the poor vagrants who frequent

Barbara's West Ham shelter.

However, although Major Barbara is important to

our discussion for its demonstration of the relationship

between Shavian socialism and vitalism, and of Shaw's concept

of the Will as acting both within man and on his society

in its drive towards fulfilment, it is only through a study

of Methuselah and the Hell Scene of Man and Superman that

we can come to a full appreciation of Shavian vitalism,

Although t h e i d e a s contained i n both t h e s e avowedly v i t a l i s t

p-lays a r e e s s e n t i a l l y t h e same, t h e r e is a b a s i c dramat ic

d i f f e r e n c e between t h e p lays themselves, which s t e m s from

Shaw's approach t o h i s s u b j e c t i n each p lay . When he wrote

Man and Superman (1903) and Major Barbara (1905), Shaw

bel ieved t h a t a better s o c i e t y was q u i t e c l o s e a t hand. A s

Bent ley p o i n t s o u t , Shaw a t t h i s s t a g e of h i s c a r e e r operated

on two t ime-tables: on one l e v e l he was concerned with t h e

short-range goa l of a s o c i a l i s t s o c i e t y , which he sugges ts

i n Major Barbara could be q u i t e c l o s e ; on t h e o t h e r l e v e l ,

i n Man and Superman, he was i n t r i g u e d wi th t h e idea of an

evolving s u p e r i o r s p e c i e s of man a s t h e long-range goa l of

t h e L i f e Force, H i s t rea tment of t h i s idea i n Man and Super-

man sugges t s , however, t h a t he was no t y e t t o t a l l y committed - t o i t , a s he was t o become i n Methuselah: where it is c l e a r

t h a t he cons iders t h e evolu t ion of t h e Superman t o be man's

o n l y hope a s he f a c e s t h e imminent c o l l a p s e of h i s c i v i l i -

z a t i o n a f t e r t h e Great War. The d i f f e r e n c e between t h e two

p l a y s i n t h e i r t rea tment of t h e i r common s u b j e c t is c l e a r l y

pointed o u t by Shaw i n h i s preface t o Back t o Methuselah:

LIJn 1901, I took t h e legend of Don Juan i n its Mozartian form and made it a dramat ic parable of Crea t ive Evolution. But being then a t t h e he igh t of my invent ion and comedic t a l e n t , I decorated it too b r i l l i a n t l y and l a v i s h l y . I surrounded it with a comedy of which it formed only one a c t , and t h a t a c t was s o completely e p i s o d i c a l ( i t

was a dream which did not a f f e c t the act ion of the piece) t h a t the comedy could be detached and played by i t s e l f . . . . The e f f e c t was so v e r t i - ginous, apparently, t h a t nobody noticed the new re l ig ion i n the centre of the i n t e l l e c t u a l whirlpool. . . .

I now f ind myself inspired t o make a second legend of Creative Evolution without d i s t r ac t ions and embellishments. My sands a r e running out ; the exuberance of 1901 has aged i n t o the garru- l i t y of 1920; and the war has been a s t e r n intimation t h a t the matter is not one t o be t r i f l e d with. I abandon the legend of Don Juan with its e r o t i c associations, and go back t o the legend of the Garden of Eden.

The dramatic super ior i ty of Man and Superman t o

its successor probably a r i s e s from Shawqs motives i n

writ ing it; he had a much smaller ax t o grind than he had

when he set out t o w r i t e Methuselah. A s he claims i n the

preface, the letter t o Arthur Bingham Walkley, who had

challenged him t o w r i t e a Don Juan play, o r i n other words

a play with sex a s the cent ra l theme, he wished t o cut

through a l l the f a l s e sentimentali ty of the conventional

love fa rce o r melodrama and w r i t e a play which would look

object ively a t the sexual relat ionship. Shaw took the

suggestion t o w r i t e a Don Juan play and, indulging i n h i s

love of paradox, produced a dialogue fea tur ing the Don,

not a s a g rea t lover, but a s a Promethean "ar t is t -phi lo-

sopher," f lee ing the ins t inc tua l creat ive energy of the

mother-woman i n order t o preserve h i s own i n t e l l e c t u a l

c rea t ive energy. H e surrounded th is dialogue w i t h a three-

a c t f a r ce which t r a c e s the unsuccessful e f f o r t s of Jack

Tanner, t he Don's s p i r i t u a l descendent, t o do the same th ing.

The l ight-hear ted nature of t he f a r ce is extended i n t o t he

H e l l Scene, where Shaw, d i s t r i b u t i n g t h e bes t l i n e s equally

among a l l four p layers i n the qua r t e t , appears a s much

concerned with providing good drama through a genuine con-

f l i c t of ideas and po in t s of view a s he is with presenting

h i s own case f o r c r ea t ive evolut ion, One senses t h a t what

p rec ip i t a t ed the wShavio-Socratic dialogueff i n Man and

Superman was not t h e playwright 's concern f o r the surv iva l

of t h e species , but merely h i s annoyance a t t h e supe r f i c i a l -

i t y of contemporary s tage treatment of sex and h i s d e s i r e

t o put th ings r i g h t by s e t t i n g f o r t h a s c l e a r l y a s poss ib le

h i s own ideas on the sub jec t .

The important ideas on c r ea t ive evolut ion which

appear i n t h i s dialogue a r i s e f o r the most p a r t from Don

Juan's e f f o r t s t o explain t h e nature of the L i f e Force and

its r e l a t i o n t o t h e sexual re la t ionsh ip . In a sho r t but

important passage he expla ins how the c r ea t ive energy i n

Woman e f fec ted h i s conversion from a Cartesian r a t i o n a l i s t

t o a Shavian v i t a l i s t by evoking within him untapped resources

of c r ea t ive energy, t he i n t e l l e c t u a l energy of the a r t i s t -

philosopher:

ANA. It seems t h a t Woman taught you something, too, with a l l her defects. -

DON JUAN. She did more; she interpreted a l l the other teaching f o r m e . Ah, my fr iends, when the ba r r i e r s were down f o r the f i r s t time, what an astounding illuminationl I had been prepared f o r infatuat ion, f o r in- toxication, f o r a l l the i l l u s i o n s of love's yo,ung dream; and lot never was my perception c learer , nor my criticism more ruthless. The most jealous r i v a l of my mistress never saw every blemish i n her more keenly than I. I was not duped: I took her without chloroform.

ANA. But you did take her.

DON JUAN. That was the revelation. Up t o t h a t moment I had never l o s t the sense of being my own master; never consciously taken a s ingle s t e p u n t i l my reason had examined and approved it. I had come t o believe t h a t I was a purely r a t iona l creature; a thinkerl I said, with the fool i sh philosopher, nI think; therefore I amen It was Woman who taught m e to say "1 am; therefore I think." And a l so *I wo Id think more; therefore I must be more.@@ B

The Don goes on t o explain how, though h i s reason rebelled,

he was compelled by the L i f e Force within him t o make love

t o the woman; "And whils t I was i n the a c t of framing my

excuse t o the lady, Li fe seized me and threw m e i n t o her arms

a s a s a i l o r throws a scrap of f i s h in to the mouth of a

seabirdw ( ~ . 1 I I . p . 6 3 2 ) . This experience re la ted by Don Juan

closely p a r a l l e l s one i n Shaw's own l i f e , one which may have

had a powerful influence on h i s a t t i t u d e towards sex and,

more important , on t h e f i n a l subs tance of h i s v i t a l i s t

philosophy. On h i s twenty-ninth b i r t h d a y Shaw l o s t h i s

v i r g i n i t y t o a M r s . Jenny Pa t t e r son , a widow i n h e r f o r t i e s

who was a music s t u d e n t of Shaw's mother, I n a le t ter t o

Frank H a r r i s , w r i t t e n i n 1930, f o r t y - f i v e y e a r s a f t e r t h e

event , he d e s c r i b e s t h e experience i n t h e s e t e r m s : wa

c e l e s t i a l f lood o f emotion and e x a l t a t i o n of e x i s t e n c e

which, however momentary, gave m e a sample o f what may one

day be t h e normal s t a t e of being f o r mankind i n i n t e l l e c t u a l

"9 I n a P u r i t a n , o r simply f a s t i d i o u s , r e j e c t i o n ecstasy. . . . of t h e messier a s p e c t s of phys ica l sex, Shaw t ransposes the

L i f e Force which overwhelmed him on h i s twenty-ninth

b i r thday from t h e phys ica l t o t h e i n t e l l e c t u a l plane. Th i s

is e x a c t l y what Don Juan claims a s h i s d e s i r e d goa l , t o

answer t h e p h y s i c a l energy of t h e mother-woman with t h e

i n t e l l e c t u a l energy of t h e a r t i s t - p h i l o s o p h e r ,

Drawing thus from h i s own exper ience , t h e Don

argues t h a t t h e L i f e Force is s t r i v i n g through t h e human

b r a i n towards consciousness with an energy, a t l e a s t i n t h e

minds of some a r t i s t s , equ iva len t t o t h e sexua l energy of

t h e Woman:

LTJo L i f e , t h e f o r c e behind the Man, i n t e l l e c t is a n e c e s s i t y , because without it he b lunders i n t o dea th . J u s t a s L i f e , a f t e r ages of s t r u g g l e , evolved t h a t wonderful bodi ly organ t h e eye , s o t h a t t h e l i v i n g organism could see where it was

going and what was coming t o help o r threaten it, and thus avoid a thousand dangers t h a t formerly s l e w it, so it is evolving today a mind's eye t h a t s h a l l see, not the physical world, but the purpose of Life, and thereby enable the individual t o work f o r t h a t pur- pose instead of thwarting and baf f l ing it by s e t t i n g up shortsighted personal aims a s a t present.

Having established the upward driving nature of the Life

Force, Don Juan has d i f f i c u l t y , a s does Shaw both here and

i n Methuselah, i n defining its eventual goals. Shaw

wisely prefers t o leave the spectator with an emotional

impression of the v i t a l i t y and buoyant optimism of the Don's

philosophy ra ther than pursue it t o its logica l conclusion:

HI te l l you t h a t a s long a s I can conceive something b e t t e r

than myself I cannot be easy unless I am s t r i v i n g to bring

it i n t o existence o r c lear ing the way f o r it. That is the

law of m y l i f e . That is the working within m e of Life 's

incessant aspirat ion t o higher organization, wider, deeper,

in tenser self-conssiousness, and c learer self-understanding,"

( ~ . ~ . 1 1 1 . ~ . 6 4 1 ) . The Devil cavi l s , not a t t h e vaguely defined

goals of creat ive evolution, but a t the, to him, u n r e a l i s t i c

optimism of its philosophy, H e is the Darwinian determinist

whose Spenglerian view of h is tory precludes any thought of

progress, even the long-range, biological progress of creat ive

evolution. Although Don Juan counts himself among the

heavenly "masters of r e a l i t y , " h i s concern f o r what w i l l

be sometimes con t r a s t s oddly with t he Devil 's concern f o r

what is , making him, r a the r than t h e Devil, appear momentarily

a s the i l lusion-prone, romantic i d e a l i s t . Shaw gives the

Devil 's point of view f a i r t reatment, and, though making it

q u i t e c l e a r where h i s sympathies l i e , leaves t he spec ta to r

t o make a f r e e choice between Don Juan's v i t a l i sm and t h e

Devil 's determinism.

Back t o Methuselah o f f e r s no such choice t o t he

spec ta to r (o r reader , f o r t h e p lay is very r a r e l y performed);

t h i s is made c l e a r i n t h e preface which, unl ike t h a t of Man

and Superman, can be considered an i n t e g r a l p a r t of t h e play:

t he gospel of Shavian v i t a l i sm is preached with equal

fervor i n both. The optimism of Man and Superman and Major

Barbara is absent from t h i s play, f o r through t h e intervening

years of t h e war c r ea t ive evolution has become f o r Shaw not

jus t a poss ible means, but the only means, of sa lva t ion f o r

humanity, H e has abandoned a l l hope of the short-range

p o l i t i c a l so lu t ion of a s o c i a l i s t soc i e ty and, a s becomes

c lea r i n Pa r t I V , Traaedy of an Elder ly Gentleman, has

re jec ted humanity i t s e l f f o r a species which, though evolved

from man, and i n P a r t I V coexis t ing on t h e same planet with

men, possesses none of t h e q u a l i t i e s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of man,

except t h a t of thought. I n sho r t , Shaw has chosen t o r e j e c t

the bes t piece of advice which the Devil gave t o Don Juan i n

Man and Suwermanr "Beware of the pursu i t of the Superhuman:

it leads t o an indiscriminate contempt f o r the Human," .

The preface is an unrelenting a t t ack on the Devil's

philosophy of Darwinian determinism, However, the only

powerful weapon Shaw can bring t o bear against it is h i s own

moral indignation, Like Butler, he f inds he cannot r e fu te the

log ic behind Darwinism -- indeed, he is probably aes the t i -

c a l l y a t t r ac ted t o its formal beauty ( a t any r a t e he cduld

understand how some of h i s contemporaries could be intr igued

w i t h the beauties of matter and its determinis t ic behaviour

i n the physical sciences) (~ .M.Pref ,p , lxvi ) ) - he can only r a i l

against the immorality of applying it t o human society. In

one of h i s stronger passages Shaw cites the recent war a s an

example of determinism gone madr

I f the Western Powers had selected t h e i r a l l i e s i n the Lamarckian manner in t e l l igen t ly , purposely, and v i t a l l y , ad majorem qloriam, a s what Nietzsche cal led good Europeans, there would have been a League of Nations and no war, But because the se- lect ion r e l i e d on was purely circumstantial opportunist se lect ion, so t h a t the a l l i ances were mere marriages of convenience, they have turned out , not merely a s badly a s might have been expected, but f a r worse than the blackest pessimist had ever imagined possible,

Yet, f o r a l l h i s r a i l i n g against the moral wrongness of

Darwinism Shaw keeps f i n d i n g evidence t h a t its p r i n c i p l e s

r a t h e r than those of c r e a t i v e evo lu t ion a r e shaping h i s so-

c i e t y . In cont inuing t o denounce Darwinism h i s p o s i t i o n comes

c l o s e r and c l o s e r t o t h a t of Lady Bri tomart i n Major Barbara

who asks h e r husband, Undershaft: "What does it mat ter whe-

t h e r t w r o n g t h i n g s 3 a r e t r u e i f they a r e wrong?,lV t o which a

d e t e r m i n i s t , o r a r e a l i s t co~nrnenting on t h e post-war s i t u a -

t i o n , could answer with Undershaft: W h a t does it mat ter

whether they a r e wrong i f t h e y a r e true?"'' Y e t Shaw is too

much t h e s o c i a l reformer t o renounce a s f u t i l e h i s v i s i o n s of

a b e t t e r f u t u r e , which seemed s o c l o s e t o r e a l i t y before t h e

war, and t o accept t h e c h a o t i c r e a l i t y of t h e post-war world.

So, s a c r i f i c i n g h i s r e p u t a t i o n a s a r e a l i s t , which he gained

by puncturing t h e myths of t h e n ine teen th century , Shaw, by

pushing h i s v i s i o n s of what w i l l be ( o r what must be, he

claims, i f mankind is n o t t o p e r i s h ) i n t o t h e d i s t a n t and

obscure f u t u r e , sets o u t t o c r e a t e h i s own myths, t h e "con-

s o l i n g myths1* of Back t o Methuselah.

The set of f i v e p l a y s which make up Back t o Methu-

s e l a h can b e s t be apprec ia ted i f t h e reader accep t s t h e f a c t

t h a t t h e playwright has broken o f f t h e s t r u g g l e with r e a l i t y ,

o r a t l e a s t t h e r e a l i t y of t h e p r e s e n t , i n o r d e r t o set o u t

t h e i d e a l s and goa l s of Shavian v i t a l i s m , Shaw r e t a i n s t h e

dramatic form, one f e e l s , o n l y because he s t i l l f i n d s

argument the best means of s e t t i n g ou t ideas convincingly. -

Of the five plays, Par t I, In the Beqinninq, is

perhaps the one most worth reading: apar t from containing

the e s s e n t i a l points of Shawes philosophy, it holds a cer-

t a i n a r t i s t i c value a s a clever reworking of the Creation

myth. Shaw follows Milton i n postulat ing the F a l l a s for-

tunate, even necessary, f o r the betterment and eventual

salvat ion of man, and follows Blake i n having the serpent,

the dev i l of t r ad i t ion , a s the spokesman f o r the Life Force.

The Shavian F a l l a l so possibly owes something t o But le res

"World of the Unbornw i n his Erewhon. But le res unborn creatures

en ter the world of matter apparently f o r no o ther reason

than from boredom with the monotony of t h e i r po tent ia l ly

e t e r n a l existence. Adam is i n a s imi la r s i tua t ion and feels

the same dread of monotonyt

I t is the horror of having t o be with myself f o r ever, . . . I want t o be d i f fe rent ; t o be be t t e r ; t o be- gin again and again; t o shed myself a s a snake sheds its skin. I am t i r e d of myself. And yet I must endure myself, not f o r a day o r f o r many days, but f o r ever. That is a dreadful thought. That is what makes m e sit brooding and s i l e n t and hateful . . . .

Clearly the L i f e Force is working both through the unborn

Erewhonians and Adam and Eve, attempting through t r i a l and

e r r o r t o a r r ive a t higher and higher forms of life. In

Shawes fable the L i f e Force has the fur ther motive of

escaping the determinism of t he "chancee* deaths of its

p r inc ipa l s , a chance t h a t approaches c e r t a i n t y a s t h e i r l i v e s

lengthen. The "Fallm occurs, then, when Adam, o r r a the r t he

L i fe Force within him, chooses mor ta l i ty and v a r i e t y over

t he monotony of e t e r n a l l i f e ; e t e r n a l , t h a t is, u n t i l

Circumstantial Select ion snu f f s it out .

Having s a c r i f i c e d the n a t u r a l s e c u r i t y of e t e r n a l

l i f e , Adam and Eve now attempt t o c r ea t e a secure fu tu re f o r

themselves i n a world made uncertain by t h e in t roduct ion of

t he va r i ab l e elements of reproduction and death. In p e ~ h a p s

t he most i n t e r e s t i n g passage i n t he play, Shaw shows how t h e i r

reac t ions t o these new condit ions e s t a b l i s h t h e pa t t e rns which

r e s u l t i n the imperfect c i v i l i z a t i o n of t he present . Adam is

tempted i n t o the discovery of p rocras t ina t ion by the serpent ,

who po in t s it o u t a s one of the advantages of morta l i ty :

ADAM [rubbinq h i s foot] A t h i s t l e . And there , next t o it, a b r i a r . And n e t t l e s , tool I am t i r e d of pu l l i ng these th ings up t o keep the garden pleasant f o r us f o r ever.

THE SERPENT, They do not grow very f a s t . They w i l l no t overrun the garden f o r a long t i m e : no t u n t i l you have l a i d down your burden and gone t o s l e e p f o r ever. Why should you t rouble yourself? L e t t h e new Adams c l e a r a p lace f o r themselves.

(B,M. P a r t l . I .p ,13)

Adam thus s t a r t s t h e evolut ionary t r e n d towards i r responsi -

b i l i t y which Shaw sees a s having culminated i n t h e Great War:

men have got i n t o the habi t of ignoring the fu ture conse-

quences of t h e i r actions; they w i l l not be around t o suf fer

them. From t h i s observation Shaw begins t o bui ld h i s case

f o r the need t o re turn t o immortality,

Adam's f e a r of the unknown begins t o outweigh

his joy a t being rel ieved of the burden of e t e r n a l life:

ADAM[anarilv] How can I help brooding when the fu ture has become uncertain? Anything is better than uncertainty, Life has become un- cer ta in . Love is uncertain, Have you a word f o r t h i s new misery?

THE SERPENT. Fear. Fear. Fear.

ADAM. Have you a remedy f o r i t ?

However, t h i s does not s a t i s f y Adam. H e cannot ad jus t t o

the p o s s i b i l i t y of h i s re la t ionship with Eve, which would

have been a mainstay of h i s e t e rna l l i f e , dissolving with

the a r r i v a l of new Adams. The dev i l suggests a vow between

them and marriage is invented:

ADAM. I w i l l l i v e a thousand years; and then I w i l l endure no more; I w i l l d i e and take my rest. And I w i l l love Eve a l l t h a t t i m e and no other woman,

EVE. And if Adam keeps h i s vow I w i l l love no other man u n t i l he dies.

( i t a l i c s mine)

THE SERPENT. You have both invented marriage. . , .

Shaw's views on marriage a r e w e l l known from Man and Super-

-. It is an i n s t i t u t i o n a r i s ing from, but bearing no r e a l

re la t ionship to , the sexual re la t ionship, which, a s Don ~ u a n

has pointed out , is fundamentally impersonal, As t h i s scene

bears out, Shaw sees marriage a s serving no r e a l function,

but only a s drawing short-lived men's a t t en t ion from more

important matters. If men had longer l ives , they would no

longer feel the need t o seek secur i ty i n marriage.

Most important, i n t h i s scene, the sexual ro le s of

Adam and Eve a r e f irmly established. They a r e made c learer

i n the second ac t , which is set several centur ies a f t e r

creation, Eve has become firmly established i n her r o l e a s

the mother-woman, ceaselessly producing dying generations of

offspring, H e r male descendants have evolved i n t o a var ie ty

of types through which the L i f e Force is seeking new forms

of expression. Adam has become merely a bread-winner, sub-

ordinate t o the creat ive energy of Eve. Cain, however, shows

an energy a s intense a s h i s mother's, but bent towards de-

s t ruc t ion ra the r than creation. Through him Shaw f o r e t e l l s the

evolution of such imperfect human i n s t i t u t i o n s and a c t i v i t i e s

a s slavery, capitalism and war, But through him the Life

Force is seen s t ruggl ing upwards:

CAIN. I revol t against the clay. . . . I revol t against these b i r t h s t h a t you and mother a r e so proud of. They drag us down t o the leve l of the beasts, . . .

Stay w i t h t h e woman who gives you children: I w i l l go t o t he woman who gives m e dreams.

- Grope i n t he ground f o r your foodr I w i l l b r ing it from the s k i e s with my arrows. . . .

(B.M. - Par t l .II .p.29)

H i s des t ruc t ive energy comes from t h e L i f e Force within him

making room f o r f u r t h e r experimentation with matter. H e is

t h e s p i r i t u a l forebear of Andrew Undershaft, whose munitions

can open the way f o r t he c rea t ion of new soc i e t i e s . Both

serve a s agencies through which the ground is cleared f o r t he

evolut ionary production of higher forms of l i f e .

While Adam and Cain, f ea r ing t h e unknown, l a y t he

foundations f o r modern c i v i l i z a t i o n i n t h e i r at tempts t o

impose an a r t i f i c i a l c e r t a i n t y on the n a t u r a l l y uncer ta in

fu ture , Eve, a c r ea tu re of hope, possessing the L i f e Force

within her i n i ts most elemental form, looks forward t o t h e

fu tu re and pu ts her f a i t h i n those Enochs among her

descendants, progeni tors of fu tu re a r t i s t -ph i losophers who

subordinate t h e i r own f e a r s and d e s i r e s t o the c rea t ive

W i l l working within them; t h a t is, towards t h e r e a l i z a t i o n

of i ts f u l l p o t e n t i a l and the sa lva t ion of mankind. Y e t

she f e a r s t h a t t h e i r lives a r e too s h o r t f o r them t o under-

s tand f u l l y t h e i r own po ten t i a l , and t h a t they w i l l thus be

misled and i n t u rn mislead mankind:

W i l l they l ea rn a l l the ways of a l l t he s t a r s i n t h e i r l i t t l e time? It took Enoch two hundred

years t o learn t o in t e rp re t the w i l l of the Voice. When he was a mere chi ld of eighty, h i s babyish attempts t o understand the Voice w e r e more dangerous than the wrath of Cain, I f they shorten t h e i r l i ves , they w i l l d ig and f i g h t and k i l l and die; and t h e i r baby Enochs w i l l tel l them t h a t it is the w i l l of the Voice t h a t they should dig and f i g h t and k i l l and d ie f o r ever,

Par t 1 , I I ,p ,34)

Thus Shaw secures h i s case f o r the need t o re turn t o

immortality.

The remaining four plays of t h i s work do not hold

the reader's i n t e r e s t a s t h i s f i r s t play does, and the reason

is not d i f f i c u l t t o discern. Shaw is a t h i s bes t examining

present conditions and explaining t h e i r causes. When he

attempts t o prescribe f o r them, he of ten loses h i s audience,

In Man and Superman the Don is convincing i n h i s indictment

of contemporary soc ie ty u n t i l he presents h i s remedy f o r its

ills, eugenic breeding supervised i n some mysterious manner

by the Li fe Force. Similarly the accurate exposure of the

r e a l nature of poverty i n Major Barbara gives way t o the

Utopian vis ions of Cusins, Undershaft and Barbara i n the f i n a l

scenes. In Methuselah the reader is asked t o accept the

nmiraclew of self-willed longevity proposed i n Par t I1 by

the brothers Barnabas. Such miracles a r e easy t o accept i n

the mythological s e t t i n g of Par t I, where Shaw puts t o

s k i l l f u l use the time-honored device of clothing metaphysical

t r u t h s i n convent ional myths, bu t t h e y l o s e t h e i r c red i -

b i l i t y i n t h e contemporary s e t t i n g of a London drawing-room.

Tru th i n a f a n t a s t i c s e t t i n g has always been found more

p a l a t a b l e than myth i n a f a c t u a l s e t t i n g .

What remains of i n t e r e s t i n Methuselah is Shawvs

concept o f t h e g o a l s of c r e a t i v e evo lu t ion . P a r t s I1 and I11

of t h e work a r e concerned with t h e mirac le , t h e t r a n s i t i o n

from man t o Superman through s e l f - w i l l e d longevi ty , and it

is n o t u n t i l P a r t I V , Traqedy of an E l d e r l y Gentleman, t h a t

t h e n a t u r e o f t h e Shavian Superman is revealed . The p l a y

h' could be taken a s an i r o n i c ve r s ion of Yeats*poem S a i l i n g

t o ~vzantium!' The E l d e r l y Gentleman is making a pi lgr image,

n o t from t h e I r e l and of "dying genera t ions" t o Byzantium,

t h e c i t a d e l of t h e r e a l i t y t o be found i n pure a r t , bu t from

Byzantium, o r a t l e a s t t h e Middle Eas t , t h e p r e s e n t home of

t h e s h o r t - l i v e r s ("dying g e n e r a t i o n s w ) , t o I r e l a n d , now t h e

home of t h e **masters of r e a l i t y w who a r e evolv ing towards

t h e s t a t e of pure thought. The long- l ive r s of t h i s p l a y s e e m

t o be evolv ing towards a s t a t e of "innocencew s i m i l a r t o t h a t

enjoyed by Adam and Eve before t h e i r @ @ f a l l w . They have f o r -

g o t t e n o r r e j e c t e d a l l t h e emotive words which Adam and Eve

learned from t h e s e r p e n t and which a r e s t i l l p a r t of t h e

E l d e r l y Gentleman's vocabulary. S i m i l a r l y , t h e y have r e j e c t e d

a l l t h e i n s t i t u t i o n s of c i v i l i z a t i o n devised by Adam, Cain

and t h e i r descendants, and still i n use i n the Middle Easti

these a re praised highly by the Elderly Gentleman. Indeed,

they s e e m t o have successfully willed out of themselves a l l

the defects of short-lived man. But what remains? Sen Gupta

makes these perceptive comments on Shaw's supermen:

The defect of t h i s por t ra i ture of men i n A.D. 3000 is t h a t there is no posi t ive qual i ty i n it. W e know t h a t there is no morality, no marriage, no e lec t ion turmoil, no nationalism, no indulgence i n poetry o r a r t , but Shaw does not make any attempt t o dive below the surface and show us what the men a r e like. What have they i n place of p o l i t i c s , morality, and rel igion? Shaw can nimitate humanityn only a s he knows it, and when he wants t o portray men whom he does not know, h i s pic ture i s incomplete and f u l l only of negations. The men and women t h a t he portrays a r e not seen t o & anything; only they a r e f r e e from cer ta in f i c t i o n s by which men who d ie young a r e guided. 11

It is d i f f i c u l t t o avoid the conclusion t h a t these beings

a r e simply no longer human, o r a t most a re born with human

q u a l i t i e s only t o lose them a t maturity. One of the brothers

Barnabas has these remarks t o make:

FRANKLYN. The force behind evolution, c a l l it what you w i l l , is determined t o solve the problem of c iv i l i za t ion ; and i f it cannot do it through us, it w i l l produce some more capable agents. Man is not God's l a s t word: God can st i l l create. I f you cannot do H i s work H e w i l l produce some being who can.

(B.M. - Part 2 I . p . 8 1 )

The remarks a re ambiguous. Shaw may be saying t h a t i f humanity

does not have the inner energy t o w i l l longevity it w i l l

simply be replaced i n t i m e by a completely d i f f e r e n t species ,

s o t h a t t he sooner it modifies its behaviour and a t t r i b u t e s

the b e t t e r ; o r he may be simply s t a t i n g t h a t humanity is indeed

going t o be replaced by a completely d i f f e r e n t species , namely

the long-livers. If he means the l a t t e r , which is less l i ke ly ,

one must conclude t h a t h i s optimism is no t f o r humanity a t

a l l , but only f o r l i f e i tself , and t h a t i n the death of t h e

Elder ly Gentleman a t t h e end of P a r t I V he is chronic l ing the

demise of t h e human species.

The long-l ivers b e c o m e even less human i n the f i n a l

play, A s Far a s Thouuht can Reach, except i n the first four

years of their exis tence wherein 'they pass quickly through

numerous s tages of development from t h e pr imi t ive emotions

of love and jealousy i n the Newly-born (it takes only twenty

minutes t o outgrow jealousy) t o t he i n t e l l e c t u a l s t r i v i n g

a f t e r exis tence independent of mate r ia l which is the pre-

occupation of the Ancients. T h i s development is r e f l e c t e d

i n t he varying t a s t e s of t h e severa l youthful a r t i s t s . The

youngest see a r t a s beauty and s t r i v e t o make their scu lp tures

a s beau t i fu l i n the conventional sense a s poss ible ; the

t a s t e f o r beauty gives way t o a g rea t e r d e s i r e t o capture

r e a l i t y i n a r t . One a r t i s t , emulating Rembrandt i n Man and

Superman, wwho would pa in t a hag of 70 w i t h a s much enjoy-

ment a s a Venus of 20" (M.S.III.648), - produces l ikenesses

of the Ancients, who a r e not beautiful , but who represent

r e a l i t y t o the more mature a r t i s t s of three o r four years.

Pygmalion goes one s tep fur ther t o r e a l i t y and attempts t o

c rea te l i f e from without. The younger Ancients de l ight i n

shaping l i f e from within, drawing on the almost f u l l y real ized

W i l l within them t o shape ex t ra l i m b s ; and f i n a l l y the most

advanced Ancients yearn a f t e r the ultimate goal of overcoming

matter completely and ex i s t ing a s a vortex of pure thought.

A t the end of the play L i l i t h , the o r ig ina l embodiment of the

Life Force i n Shaw's mythology, out l ines t h i s f i n a l goal of

the Ancients;

LILITH. They have redeemed themselves from t h e i r vi leness , and turned away from t h e i r s ins . B e s t of a l l , they a r e st i l l not s a t i s f i e d : the impulse I gave them t h a t day when I sundered myself i n twain and launched Man and Woman on the e a r t h still urges them: a f t e r passing a million goals they press on t o the goal of redemption from the f lesh , t o the vortex freed from matter, t o the whirlpool i n pure inte l l igence t h a t , when the world began, was a whirlpool i n pure force. And though a l l t h a t they have done seems but the f i r s t hour of the i n f i n i t e work of creation, yet I w i l l not supersede them u n t i l they have forded t h i s l a s t stream t h a t lies between f l e s h and s p i r i t , and disentangled t h e i r l i f e from the matter t h a t has always mocked it. . , . Shaw appears t o have returned t o the Cartesian con-

cept of the t o t a l separation of mind from matter, even though,

a s we noted a t the beginning of t h i s essay, the acceptance of

t h i s pr inciple of Descartes is what began t h a t trend which

Shaw so strongly deplored i n h i s own day, t h e movement towards

materialism t h a t culminated i n the determinism of Darwin's

wCircumstantial Selection." Not only does he follow Descartes,

he takes the fu r the r s t e p of denying matter any r o l e whatever

i n h i s per fec t ly evolved universe of pure i n t e l l e c t s "1 am

Li l i ths I brought l i f e i n t o the whirlpool of force, and

compelled my enemy, Matter, t o obey a l iv ing soul. But i n

enslaving L i f e ' s enemy I made him L i f e e s masters f o r t h a t is

the end of a l l slavery; and now I s h a l l see the s lave set

free and the enemy reconciled, the whirlpool become a l l l i f e

and no mattern (Q. Par t 5.I.p.262). Matter has become merely

the means by which the primeval s t a t e of pure physical energy

evolves i n t o the ult imate s t a t e of pure i n t e l l e c t u a l energy.

BY thus denying matter an ult imate ro le % i n the universe, Shaw

a r r ives qu i t e suddenly a t his f i n a l v is ion of a universe of

pure thought with nothing t o think about. C.E.M. Joad points

out the unsat isfactory nature of t h i s , the f i n a l outcome

of Shawes philosophical drama and of h i s v i t a l i s t philosophy.

"But if, i n s i s t i n g once again t h a t thought must su re ly be of

something and t h a t t h a t something must be o the r than the

thinking about it, w e repeat the question, what, then, does

L i f e i n i ts ult imate expression think about, t h e r e is no

answer. 1 2

Shavian vitalism is really less a philosophical

system than a rationalizing of the playwrightes own tempera-

ment. Its strengths and weaknesses are Shaw's own, Specifi-

cally it embodies that essential element of his character,

the conflict of the realist with the idealist within him.

On the one hand, Shaw, the rational critic of society, the

chronicler of things as they are, exemplifies what is best in

his philosophy, his concept of the Artist-Philosopher as

the embodiment of vital, intellectual energy struggling

creatively with the material universe, On the other hand,

turning away from this struggle, Shaw the idealist and

visionary, the propounder of things as they should be, lases

himself in a sterile contemplation of the unknowable that

results in his meaningless vision of a universe consisting

of nothing but pure thought, and in doing SO, becomes

indistinguishable from one of his Ancients. Clearly the

element of conflict is essential both to Shawes philosophy

and to his drama; when it is removed, as it is at the end of

Back to Methuselah, there is very little left of either.

. NOTES

IE. M. W. Ti l lyard, The Elizabethan World Picture (1943; rp t . Hannondsworth, Middlesexr Penguin Books, 1963), p,89.

' ~eske th Pearson, Bernard Shav, h i s L i f e and Personali ty (1942; r p t , landon: Collins, 1950), p.68,

' ~ r i c Bentley, Bernard Shaw. 1856-1950 (New York: New Directions, 1957), p. 56.

's.C. Sen Oupta, The A r t of Bernard Shaw (Calcuttai A. Mukherjee, 1965), p.12.

'Ishaw, "Back t o Methuselah, Preface," i n s m p l e t e Plays, with Prefaces, by George Bernard Shaw (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1962), 11, Ixxxviii-lxxxix. Subsequent quotations taken from t h i s play a r e c i t ed i n the text . Page numbers a r e given since l i n e s a re unnumbered; e l l i p s e s a r e employed where needed t o indicate t h a t a speech has not been quoted t o i ts conclusion.

'shaw, 'Man and Superman, * i n Complete Plays, with Prefaces, 111, 631. Subsequent quotations taken from t h i s play have been t rea ted i n the same manner a s those from Back t o Methu- selah.

'cited i n John G. Dematay, "Bernard Shaw and C.E.M. Joad: the Adventures of Two puritans i n Their Search f o r God," PMLA, 78 (1963), 265. -

l0shaw, *Major Barbara ," i n Cornolete Plays, with Prefaces, I, 437.

''sen Gupta. p. 101. 4

12c. E. M. Joad, *Shave s Philosophy. in G. B. S . 90 1 Aspects of Bernard Shawes L i f e and Work, ed. S . Winsten (London: Hutchinson, 1946), p.71.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Texts.

Shaw, George Bernard. Com~lete Plays, with Prefaces. 6 vols. New Yorkr Dodd, Mead, 1962.

Works c i t ed .

Bentley, Eric. Bernard Shaw, 1856-1950. New York: New Direct ions , 1957.

Demaray, John G. "Bernard Shaw and C.E.M. Jaad: t he Adventures of Two Pur i tans i n t h e i r Search f o r God." PMLA, 78 (1963), 262-270. 7

Joad, C.E.M. %haw's Philosophy. " G.B.S. 90; Aspects of Bernard Shaw's L i fe and Work. Ed. S. winsten. London: Hutchinson, 1946. pp.57-76.

Pearson, Hesketh. Bernard Shaw, h i s L i f e and Personali ty. 1942; rp t . Inndon: Coll ins, 1950.

Sen Gupta, S.C. The A r t of Bernard Shaw. Calcutta: A. Hukherjee, 1965.

T i l l ya rd , E.M.W. The Elizabethan World Picture. 1943; r p t . Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1963.

Works consulted.

B i s s e l l , Claude. **The ~ u t l e r i a n Inheri tance of G.B. Shaw." Dalhousie Review, 41 (1961), 159-173.

Brustein, Robert. The Theatre of R e v o l t ; an Amroach t o t he _ Modern Drama. Boston: L i t t l e , Brown, 1964.

Kaye, J u l i a n B. Bernard Shaw and the Nineteenth-century Tradit ion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1958.

Krutch, Joseph Wood. HModernism" i n Modern Drama, a Def ini t ion and an E s t i m a t e . 1953) r p t . I t h i ca , N.Y. : Cornell Universi ty Press, 1966,

Leary, Daniel, and Richard Foster. "Adam and E v e r Evolving Archetypes i n Back t o Methuselah." Shaw Review, 4, No.2 (May, 1961). 12-24.

Smith, J. Percy. The Unrewentant ~ i l q r i m . Toronto: ~ a c m i l l a n , 1965.