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mises against him vigorously in the introduction to his 'Sophonisbe.' It is likewise a matter of no importance that Webster seems at first to have been influenced and to have received his poetical training more from Marlowe's than from Ben Jonson's genius. Nevertheless the spirit of Marston's and Webster's compositions, their view of life, their idea of dramatic art, their conception of tragedy, in short, all that affects the subject, appears so closely allied to the spirit of the Ben Jonson School, that from this point of view both have to be considered followers of the more recent tendency of art. On the other hand, the dramatic dress which they hang round this subject, in other words the form of their compositions, has certainly still a greater resemblance to the course pursued by the older School. In fact, Marston's object was, as he himself says, 'not to tye myself to relate anything as an historian, but to inlarge everything as a poet. To transcribe authors, quote authorities, and translate Latin prose orations into English blank verse.' He sym

pathises as little as Webster with Jonson's passion for the ancient drama and the Aristotelian rules. In Marston and Webster, the form of their composition, as well as language and characterisation, is more that free mode of representation, suggested by direct instinct of feeling and of imagination, than Jonson's style of writing, which is controlled by a reflecting understanding, is intentional and full of tendency. But if we examine Marston's 'Malcontent,' his 'Parasitaster, or the Fawn,' 'Antonio and Mellida,' among others;* or look more closely into Webster's tragedy, The White Devil,' or his comedies, The Devil's Law Case,' A Cure for a Cuckold,' Westward Hoe,' 'Northward Hoe' (the second of which was written in conjunction with Rowley, the two last with Dekker †), we shall find that in spite of the decided superiority of Webster's talent, the character of his, as well as of Marston's pieces, almost invariably describes only common reality with its

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* Dodsley, l.c., iv. 17 ff., and in the Old Plays, etc., ii. 107 ff., 277 ff. Halliwell's Collection of Marston's Works (London, 1856) has unfortunately not been at my service.

The Works of J. Webster, now first collected, etc., by the Rev. A. Dyce, London, 1830.

*

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vices and weaknesses, without any poetical elevation and idealisation; accordingly, that they stand opposed to the freer form, and that the latter therefore only leads both poets astray, occasionally into what is wild, improbable, and unnatural-of which many examples † might be given as proofs in Webster, and in Marston are especially to be found in Antonio and Mellida.' Webster himself superfluously declares, in the Address to the reader in his White Devil:'I have ever truly cherished my good opinion of other men's worthy labours, especially of that full and heightened style of Master Chapman; the laboured and understanding works of Master Jonson; the no less worthy composures of the both worthily excellent Master Beaumont and Master Fletcher; and lastly (without wrong last to be named), the right happy and copious industry of Master Shakspeare, Master Dekker, and Master Heywood.'

As regards their comedies (for instance in Marston's

* An exception to this is formed by Webster's Appius and Virginia. It may very likely have been his best tragedy; but in this case, history had already done so much for him in the way of invention, that the only thing left for him to do was skilfully to clothe it in the dramatic garb. No special effort was here required as regards composition and delineation of characters; the main object was to let the given action and the given characters express themselves in an appropriate form according to the whole course of affairs, and in this respect Webster's energy and the bold pathetic flight of his language-which is rich in maxims but inclines rather too much towards bombastic rhetoric-were of great advantage. The Dutchess of Malfi, also—which after Appius and Virginia is Webster's best work (an excellent translation of this piece into German has been made by Bodenstedt, Shakspeare's Zeitgenossen u. ihre Werke)-may be reckoned as one of the exceptions. Here, at least, the Duchess and Antonio, the chief characters of the play, are really noble natures, and the tragic element, as in Appius and Virginia, is more in the Shakspearian style.

† I need only remind the reader of the completely superfluous, and hence very unnatural, spectral apparitions in The White Devil, which but increase the riotous, chaotic doings of the piece. In regard to this tragedy, I cannot agree either with A. Dyce, in his praise bestowed upon it, or with Charles Lamb's opinion, which is shared by Bodenstedt (l.c., i. 5 f.). With the exception of some scenes which certainly manifest some power of characterisation and representation, it is written entirely in the spirit of the later tendency of dramatic art, which was approaching its decay.

VOL. I.

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'Malcontent'), we find in both poets the prevalence of a spirit of satire and of censoriousness which, with prosaic seriousness, finds fault with everything, from religious considerations down to the smallest tom-fooleries about fashions and dress; Marston's comic figures also often imperceptibly become mere caricatures, and their intention of being satirical is, so to speak, written on their faces. The tragic element generally consists only in the evil which destroys itself; the composition is a series of intrigues usually founded upon foul deeds, partly well connected externally, but without internal substance; the characterisation is, indeed, generally correct, clear and precise, but the delineation is too sharp and angular, the colours are laid on too thickly, the separate figures depicted more like portraits without any ideal beauty; the language, lastly, is that sharp sententious diction, coined by reason, which moves on more in acute angles, than in the undulating line of beauty. Even the small peculiarities of Ben Jonson and his School are again met with in both of these poets. Both, for instance, are fonder of discoursing in those pompous words and phrases of the English language derived from the Latin, than of employing the more modest Anglo-Saxon; both are fond of putting Latin sentences into the mouths of their characters, in other words, they are fond of showing off their higher culture and erudition; nay, Marston, in Antonio and Mellida,' commits the absurdity of causing the two lovers-at the moment of their greatest ecstacy, where they have unexpectedly met each other againsuddenly to express their joy in Italian sonnets.

I think I may be allowed to pass on without entering upon a deeper and more detailed criticism of Webster's and Marston's dramas; for from the preceding explanation, the reader must have found a sufficient confirmation of what I maintained above, viz., that about the years 16051608 a decided change must have taken place both in the taste of the public, as well as in the ideas of art and life, entertained by the leading poets of the day. Chapman, as we have seen, complained about this time that satire and ridicule were the only acceptable subjects-a complaint which evidently referred chiefly to comedy-and

Heywood, in the Prologue to his 'Challenge for Beauty,' * observes that

'Our nation,

Already too much taxt for imitation

In seeking to ape others, cannot quit
Some of our poets who have sinned in it,
For where before great patriots, dukes and kings,
Presented for some high facinorous things,
Were the stage subject; now we strive to flie
In their low pitch who never could soare hie:
For now the common argument intreats

Of puling lovers, craftie bawds and cheates.'

This observation, which was obviously meant to apply chiefly to tragedy, and which, although it may have directly referred to a somewhat later period, still no doubt has some application when referred to the years after 1606although perhaps of a somewhat more limited kind. Ben Jonson himself, in the Prologue to his 'Volpone' of the 11th of February, 1607, expresses his indignation that the only thing now to be heard was bawdry, profanation and blasphemies, and the whole looseness of a language offensive alike to God and man.

Of what the changes consisted, I have already repeatedly intimated; for in describing more accurately the chief representatives of the earlier School, and then the points of transition from it to Ben Jonson, in poets such as Chapman, Middleton, Rowley, Webster and Marston, I have already pointed out the principal differences between the two Schools. But the contrast between them can be fully illustrated only by a detailed characterisation of Ben Jonson himself, and the chief representatives of his tendency.

* O. P. being a Contin., vi. 333

CHAPTER III.

BEN JONSON AND HIS SCHOOL.

His Life and Character. Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Ford and Field.

BEN JONSON was born in Westminster, London, in 1573,* and was the son of a Scottish gentleman. His father, however, died shortly before his birth, and his mother-left in needy circumstances soon afterwards married again; this time a citizen of London, a bricklayer by trade. But the worldly circumstances of his step-father also were not brilliant. Ben Jonson attended the Grammar-school of Westminster at the expense of a friend of his father's, Camden by name, and, as has hitherto been assumed, he also studied at the university of Cambridge, at least for a short time. This last statement, however, is a mere conjecture; Drummond, to whom Jonson himself related the history of his life, knows nothing about this. But certain it is that, for a time, he was a bricklayer. However, he could not endure this low mechanical occupation and, accordingly, upon the outbreak of the war in the Netherlands, he became a soldier. This career also does not appear to have brought him any good luck, or to have given him any satisfaction. At all events, when the war was over, he returned home to devote himself to his studies. His learning which was, in fact, excellent for those days, and which was subsequently recognised by both universities in his receiving the honorary degree of M.A.—was, accordingly, acquired by his own efforts, by persevering, private study, which accompanied the work of his trade; this is a proof not only of his eminent abilities, but also of energetic perseverance and strength of will. According to the general supposition (which, however, is devoid of

*Not in 1574, as was formerly generally supposed. See Notes of B. Jonson's Conversation with W. Drummond. Lond., Pr. f. t. Sh. Soc. 1842, p. 39.

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