SPENSER AND THE MODERN READER

Press, Volume LXX, Issue 21133, 7 April 1934, Page 15

SPENSER AND THE MODERN READER

p-.y w. u. r.r;i.)OKr. e .] How many readers will trouble avail themselves of a convenient j very readable edition of "The S-rie Queene- ? Most of us toU have forgotten what it is all b L t —this stupendous poem with '•'. tf-ruelv pleasant associations of and colour, of romantic ud'n'ntures that seem as remote from us as the language in which they „ re written: gentle knijjht was miShtie arnx, and >i.vcr " suicide. > parlY everyone will recall this; Hhcrs perhaps a well-known line or t'A'o such as

Slccpo after toyle. port alter slurmic j TVeTncr warrc. death after life docs : greatly please. Cut apart from such memories, we \ .„. e content to take the poetry of . Spenser as read, and do no more j than pay it an apathetic homage, j The Elizabethan Reader In 1590 "The Faerie Queenc" was | „ best seller. It was. of course, pre- | scnted a public among whom , reading and hearing poetry were al- , most as general as listening-in over j lhe radio is to-day; its length, too, , and its enormous scope were more j. readily accepted by the indefatig- , ab le "readers of the Renaissance, j Moreover, there was a strong, popular appeal in its outspoken I allegorical comment on matters ot I current national interest; for politi- , cal allegory was as eagerly read j then as political memoirs are to-day. j "The Faerie Quccne" had a further powerful attraction. It taught j accepted morality in the course of j narrating the most delightful tales of J love (all kinds) and exciting advent- j ure. Half-way through Book I the I reader is already in the thick of the j most amazing events; Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce These pitteous plamtcs and dolours did resound: 0! who is that which bnnges me happy choyce , . Of death, that here bye dying every stound. , , , , , , Yet live perforce in baleful darknesse boun'd? 'I- viii. .'!G; Dip into Book IV. and we read how: Dcepo in the bottome of an huge great rocke The donjon was in which her bound he left. That neither yron barrcs nor brascn locke Bid neede to garde from force or , ' sre-ot theft C/f all her lovers, which would have ' her reft. For wall'd it was with waves which ras'd and ror'd, A? ther the clifle in pieces would have cleft: fen thousand monsters foule abhor'd Did waite about it, gaping gxiesly all ; begor'd. (IV. xi. 3; ; Romance and Sensationalism .Such doings as these, with the conventional moral, are always palatable; especially if the brave knights are exceedingly brave, and tiie unfortunate ladies are described n detail as the most beautiful creatures:

Her yvoric neckc; her a.'ablasler brcst Her tender sides,

and so on. To-day wc have Marlene Dietrich instead of Una or Mirabella. and a Calidore to meet the times in Ronald Colman. Ths .scientific fantasies of Mr Wells and the various roles of Mr Boris Karloff (not to iriention King Kong) are the modern equivalents of the grotesque adventures and terrifying monsters with which Spenser entertained his public. The only difference is that to-day we are not credulous and superstitious, and must have sound scientific explanations. The modern reader would perhaps think the creations of "The Faerie Quccnc"' rather naive:

For that beasts Icelhe which wounded you tolore Are so exceeding venomous and keeuc. Made all of rusty-iron rankling sore. '.VI. "vi. o,'. And as for Echidna— Echidna is a Monster clitefull drcd, Whom Gods doc hate and heavens abhor to see: So hideous is her shape, so hui<e her hed Thai even the hellish fiends affrighted bee At sight thereof, and from her presence flee: Yet did her face and former parts professe A faire young Mayden full of comely glee, "Ut all her hinder parts did plaine A expresse A monstrous dragon, full of fearful uglinessc (VI. vi. 10), Echidna, "for her so dreadfulle idee, was appointed to dwell "in earefull darknesse furthest from '2 e skie and from the earth."' There *>nc found Typhaon, and

01" that commixtion thev did then beget "his hellish Dog, that hight the Blatant Beast, i.VI. vi. ID The Spell of the Words. Such was the fare which satisfied the hunger for romance and sensationalism in the Elizabethan public f JJust^ ust have f ound many readers to: ,-xhe Faerie Queene." But to(ay it is not so much the talcs of J we and adventure (and their subtle • ,J jegpry) that count, as the art with ••'Tich they are to!d. To his own rige bpenser had much to sav; wnal ■latters to us is that he said it in ".etry. Most modern readers may >i|nk the stories a little unsoohistia.cd; but few need be insensible to lp . thunderous or the flute-Hi;" Uisic o the Spenserian stanzas and Jlio suotle interweaving of the senses ;;"« sounds of words. " Spenser was vn' r ? nd ca P«iblc in the art of rnllv v^° n \ He handlod a tcchni ' <* .V difficult form with a sureness ;_nu an adroitness never achieved by reSe people to " da y fa«w- } C , ould be read for the fascination of the masterly way he * Jh Spen a srr iC T? U *L C , ne - ny Edmuml openscr p cublo volume Series.

puts words together and makes them ! rhyme and echo and call to one ; another:

The joyous birdes shrouded in chcar- ; ful shade. | Their notes unto the voyce attempred sweet. Th' Anselicall soft trembling vovecs made To th' instruments divine respondents meet: The silver sounding instruments did meet With the oasc murmurc of the waters fall: The waters fall with difference discreet. Now soft now loud, unto the wind did call: The gentle warbling wind, low answered to all. in. xii 711

Such tours-de-forcc as this may \ make a starting point for the read- I er's interest: and where he hesitated ! to begin he finds his attention held; for stanza after stanza and page; after page. lie is carried forward by the melodious flow of language; if he tires at all, it is only wilh the ! almost monotonously sustained ! richness. Unlike Milton's, Spenser's ' work doc." not greatly depend on tiic ' superlative merit of outstanding ' passages. ;

The Pictured Background Spenser could make word-pictures . ° as well as word-music. It is the local ; } colour of Faerie Land, so vividly : i painted—its open, sunny spaces and : < its dark and gloomy forests—that ' gives "The Faerie Queene" such a , grip on the imagination. Sometimes i the scene is simple : ' A lill!<" lowly ILrmilage it was. Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side, , .Far from resort, of people that did pass ■ j In travell to and free. Or it. has the sombre tone of unearthly darkness: Downe in the bottonic of the deepc Abysse. ' Where Demogorgon in dull darkencsse pent, ' Furre from the view of Gods and heavens blisa. The hideous Chaos keepes. their , dreadfull dwelling is. UV. li. 47.) ; Sometimes there is what seems to modern taste an appealing quaintness, as in the description of : litj room in the House of Temper- ' aiu'c. where the walls were painted with objects daily seen an.l kiumcn by their : names ' Such as in idle fantasies do Hit Infernnll Hags, Cenlaures, feendes, Hippodames, Apes, Lyons. Acgles. Owles, funics, lovers, children. Dames. MI. i\. 50». Again sadness may be dominant : I ; a garden goodly garnished [ Willi hcarbs and fruits whose kinds mote not be redd : Not such as earth out. of her fruitful! , woomb ; Throwes forth to men, sweet and well ; savoured. ] But direfull deadly black, both leaf i and bloom, j Fit to adorn the dead, and deck the! 1 drery toombe. Ml. vii. 51). | And then in lines which Milton j i must have known well : ; ! j There mournfull Cypresse grew in ! greatest store, ! ' Anu trees of bitter gall, and ilebcr. i i-nd: ; j Dead sleeping Poppy, and black Hellei bore. I Cold Coloquintida. and Tetra mad, j Mortall Samnitis, and Cieuta bad, \ With which tli' unjust Athenians made ] ' to d.v ! Wise Socrates. MI. vii. 52;.] This is the Garden of Proserpina, j Spenser's description of which must ] ! have influenced many English poets. ] ! Spenser, however, never pauses | j overlong to elaborate a scene for ] jits own sake. Leisurely as is his; mode of progress, there is always j I something going on; and along with | ! the action the changing background j l is delineated with just enough! ] emphasis to make the reader bear j !it constantly in mind. Listen to . ] Scudamour as he recounts his ad- j ventures :

So forth without impediment I past Till to the- Bridges utter gate I tame: The which I found sure leckt and chained fast. I knockt, but no man aunswred me by name; I cald, but no man answerd to my clame. Yet I persever'd still to knock and call, Till at the last I spide within the same. Where one stood peeping through a crevis small. To whom I cald aloud, hall angry therewithal!. 'IV. x. 11). Sometimes the story moves energetically, as here: sometimes more rambling]y. The picture is always clear, but so much a part of the story that no excerpted stills (as it were) can give a true impression of how real it seems.

The Arrogance of Change "The Fairie Queene" was scarcely \ more than half finished. Six books ' are complete; after them come "Two ! Cantos of Mutabilitie, which both for Forme and Matter, appeare to be parcell of some following Booke I of The Fairie Queene, under the j Legend of Constancie." These | cantos are two of the most beautiful • in the whole work, and they have ; an interest which justifies their ; special notice. A subtlo change of j tone, as though to a minor key, j distinguishes them from the rest, j While the romantic remoteness is; by no means destroyed, the language | is more hr-nely and direct; the j setting is brought to earth, and Ireland (whose varied landscapes! had already given life and reality to i the conventional medieval and i classical backgrounds) is now j avowedly made the scene of a ! strange anc' beautiful allegory. \ The story is that Mutabilitie, aim- i ing to reign over gods as well as ; men, leaves the earth and. climbing; to the moon, tries to dispossess' Cynthia of her ivory throne. ; Cynthia complains to Jove and Mutabilitie is arraigned before him. • She pleads her divine right by descent from Titan, the elder son : of Uranus; but Jove's decision '.. against her :

Then cease thy idle claim thou foolish gerle. She will not accept his judgment and appeals from his court to that of Mature. Ari i-hiil is fixed as the place Where all both heavenh Powers and ear'hly wights. Btfr e great Nature's pre: !:rr should r.ppcarc. And here on the appointed day . !,;y all come, marshalled by NaUu-'. sergeant Order : Then forth issev.'d igreat goddcssei great daino Nature With goodly port and grnciou.Majcsty; Eeing far greater and more tall of stature Then any of the sods or Powers en hie: Yet certes. by her face and physnomy. Whether she man or woman inly were, Th.r't could not any creature well descry: For. with a vcilc that wimpled everywhere Her head and face was hid, that mote Ic> none appearc.

Thai, some do say was so by skill \ devized. j To hide the tenor of her uncouth hew. From mortall eyes that should be sore! i agrized: For that her face did like a Lion shew. That eye of wight could not endure to view: i But others tell that it so bcautious | was, : And round about such bcames of j splendour threw. That it the Simne a thousand times j did pass, I Nc could be seen, but like an image in i a glass. i i A Poet s Universe I Before this figure, symbolic of the [mystery at the heart of things (but wearing, at any rate, outer gar- ' merits so fair that even. ''Dan I Geffrey" durst not describe them) ' comes Mutabilitie to plead her case. i She contends that Earth, Sea, and i Sky, with all their tenants, are subject to change; so toe is the fourth i element, Fire. As proof the Seasons i are first called out: Spring, Summer, j Autumn — all in yellow clad. ' As though he joyid in his plenteous store. Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad : That he had banisht hunger, which to-forc. ■ Had by the bcliy oft him pinched sureand Winter. Then come the Month::.; , llien Day and Night; and the : ••flow-res, faijie daughters of high .love." Last come Life and Death. Mutabilitie then turns to the deities \ of l;.e moon and planets and tells ; how they too are subject to change. But Nature's decision is that though all things change, yet turning to themselves ■<■' length av.'iin. P..e work their owne perfection so bv ' .;.!,■; That live- them Change doth not rule ..no Co' tl,_> raigne over Change, and do Mow refrehing to the modern reader is such a picture as this of j earth and sky and what they hold | —all that has met the wondering i eyes of man and engaged his speculations, ft is pleasant, now and again, to turn from Sir James Jeans ', to Spenser; to sec the universe i through the eyes of a poet instead i of through the microscope and tele- ' scope.

j European culture. Few groups of Nordics coukl be found to equal in modern influence Spinoza, Marx, Bergson, and Einstein. Palestine, it appears, has received few Englishspeaking immigrants, and immigration restrictions will prevent Palestine from giving refuge to very many European refugees. One piece of valuable publicity afforded by Mr Dark is the exposure of that lamentable imposture, "The Protocols of the Elders of Zion." j The twelve Jewish biographies by i twelve writers, who worked to Mr j Bolitho's plan, are equally informaI tive. Only one is really badly writ'ten, Lord Melchetfs "Charm Wcizmann," though his subject lias claims to be thought the greatest living Jew. Mr John Betjemann's "Epstein'' is as combative and sensible as his architectural writings, j and Mr Hampden Jackson's ; "Trotsky" exhibits the greatness of : Trotsky's historical writings as well 'as his extraordinary physical ac- ! 1 ivitv. Max Reinhardt, described I by Alan Pryce Jones, is a disappointing man, inspired but aimless, I controlled by, not controlling, the material conditions of the stage. The impact of Disraeli's feminine nature ' on politics is displayed by Mr Hay- , ward. -»' ho, however, is prone to exaggerate Disraeli's escapes from '. reality with Lady Chesterfield and 1 her sister, and to consider that some !of Disraeli's hastily thrown off ! eoigrams represented a long-con-sidered conclusion. To his race Disraeli owed, among other things, that instinct of consolidation which encouraged him to strengthen the prestige of the Throne. Hector Bolitho himself wrote the biography of Ludwig Mond. His style occasionally needs tightening or pruning, but his sensitiveness, when it carries him into swift, plain narrative, makes his story affecting and real.