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,
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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,
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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.
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