CHAPTER III

"THE FAERIE QUEENE"

THERE seems nothing more certain about the human mind than that it depends on the senses for the material on which it works. No amount of imagination will supply the place of facts. Its function in art is to present them in new combinations, by the aid of which the reasoning faculty draws and illustrates its conclusions. This limitation is best seen in the work of the greater poets, the medium of whose art lies largely in phantasms, expressed in speech. Great art is a product of self-knowledge, and is a spiritual effort, which lays under contribution a man's whole spiritual experience and intellectual acquisition, and that experience comes to him primarily through contact with life, partly in the form of books, and, in its deeper effects, through persons and activity. There is no better example of the limitations imposed by nature on genius than the case of Chatterton. Great as his genius undoubtedly was, the medium in which he expresses himself is strictly confined within the limits of his reading and social experience. Burns, another notable example, is only great in what he knows; as soon as he steps outside his experience his genius cannot save him from insipidity. Dante furnishes his Inferno with people of his own acquaintance. Milton takes the risk of incongruity in drawing Cromwell's portrait in the Parliament of Hell. Dickens, in places, is notoriously autobiographical, and even his invention fails to sustain his art outside certain clearly defined limits, which are largely determined by his social experience. And so on; there is no exception

to the rule, except, apparently, in the case of Shakespeare. There we are asked to believe that his genius was allsufficient, not only to supply him with the combinations, but, to a large extent, with the facts. Similarly, though it can be clearly demonstrated that all the great poets and artists have worked with a sense of purpose and with an interest in their fellow-creatures, Shakespeare alone, we are told, had no care for the fate of his productions, and his work was of an unconscious order and the "irresponsible play of poetic fancy." I believe that it will be realised in time that these ideas are not only unscientific, but based on a misconception of the facts, arising out of the concealment by the real author of his identity. In the case of Spenser, at any rate, purpose and a standard of moral responsibility, towards which the author moves or from which he recedes, according to the mood, are notable characteristics of his work, and in presenting the Faerie Queene he himself states his purpose, which, though it may not be on the high spiritual plane which is sometimes claimed for his poetry, will be found consistent (as it must be) with his nature at that stage of his development: "The generall end therefore of all the booke is to fashion a gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline." We may expect to find that in developing and illustrating this theme the author will give some indications of his circumstances and character. The fact that he desires to conceal his identity may render such indications more difficult to trace, but, in such a large and varied body of work, it cannot wholly obliterate them.

It will be acknowledged, I suppose, that this is a very unusual claim—indeed an extraordinary one for a writer on his first public appearance under his own name. But what are we to think of it in the case of Spenser, having regard to the circumstances of his life to which I have alluded? Could such a claim be made to-day, with all our equalisation of social conditions? Suppose, for example, the case of a young man, whose parents were

1 See A Life of William Shakespeare, by Sidney Lee, pp. 256, 257.

people of the working class. By public assistance and his own industry he passes from school to a university, where he develops literary powers. Having no means of his own, he enters for the examination for the Civil Service, at the age of, say, twenty-two, and obtains a post in a minor department in London, where he spends two or three years, supplementing his income by writing for the magazines, and thereby coming under the notice of a few influential people with literary tastes. In order to better himself, he then gets himself transferred to a Government office in Dublin, where the interest he has made in London assists him in obtaining a private secretaryship. A change of Government occurs, and the Minister, on quitting office, bestows on him an inspectorship, and he settles down in the south-west of Ireland to local duties and the founding of a family. In ten years' time he comes over to London with an important work of imagination, replete with allusions to life in the metropolis, which is published with an introductory letter in which he announces that the general object of his book is to show how people should best conduct themselves under the burden of newly acquired wealth. Such people might be quite ready to hear what he had to say, though they would wonder what experience he had of their circumstances. But it is unnecessary to pursue the analogy, as it is impossible to conceive such a situation in fact; and yet, as it seems to me, it is a fair parallel to the case of Spenser which we are asked to accept. I write this in no spirit of burlesque; but we are entitled in these matters to make some use of common-sense and the general experience of life. Such incongruities occur throughout Spenser's work, and I shall indicate in this chapter a few which present themselves in the Faerie Queene, asking the reader to keep in mind what has been said as to Spenser's circumstances and bringing up.

The prodigious length of the poem probably prevents many people reading it through, and they take for granted the view which is commonly expressed, that it represents a sort of unreal dream-world. The late Bishop Creighton,

for instance, writes: "Away from the tumult of the world

the poet peopled his ideal world with the creatures of his own fancy." But this I believe to be a delusion, or rather it is a view which arises from a failure to realise the meaning and point of view of the author. There is nothing "dreamy," in the sense of vagueness of thought, in Spenser. The figures are often those of dreams, but they are always in relation with reality. Until I realised this I found (as I suppose most people do) that the poem as a whole (apart from its many fine passages) was hard reading, and I could not conceive how any human being could have written it. As it is, I do not profess to have made out the meanings of all the characters and incidents, but I can offer the reader some interpretations (so far as I am aware not hitherto recognised) which will throw light on the times as well as on the author. If I do this at the present stage somewhat categorically, it is not from a desire to be dogmatic, but for the sake of brevity of statement. The reader will, in this way, have an opportunity of seeing what he may expect as the subject is further developed in this work; and if the views expressed are not to his mind, he can close the book at this chapter. I am not writing for controversy, but in order to try to get at the truth on a subject (not bounded, by any means, by Spenser's works) which appears to me to be of the deepest spiritual significance and importance.

First as to the author (solely as revealed in the work). His mind is stored with a vast amount of reading, especially classical and Italian, and his fancy is so exuberant that it constantly "takes control." His perceptions and ear for rhythm are exquisitely delicate, and when writing at his best he shows a marvellous artistic sense; but he has little sense of the artistic "whole" of a composition, or, if he had, he was indifferent to it. More probably, however, the concentration required for its attainment was repugnant to him and interfered with the plasticity of his fancy. He is careless of accuracy, using his material as it happens to suit him. His work

1 The Age of Elizabeth.

is largely instinctive, and as unequal and variegated as that of nature herself. He writes, evidently, at a great speed, and pours out his thoughts as they come with the utmost naïveté of self-expression. This often gives the effect of lack of humour, but when he is in the mood, and is not writing about himself, a strong sense of humour appears. There is a marked absence of personal feeling. Where he cannot readily get a rhyme he invents or alters words (under the pretext of antiquity) to make one. The effect is often singularly pleasing to the ear. His genius flags heavily towards the close of the poem, but there is one thing of which he never tires, the giving of instruction in morals and manners. His attitude is that of a superior being imparting information to people who are in great need of it. By a division of personality which is very marked he includes himself among his pupils, confessing and admonishing himself freely under the guise of character and dialogue. Similarly he treats his genius as something apart from himself, and refers to its performance in language of superlative eulogy. It is hard to say he was wrong, but it presents a very strange phenomenon, because, rightly understood (as I conceive), the self-praise is not due to immodesty of character. The impulse to express himself, and to refer to the people whom he knows and the occurrences in their lives which interest him, is so strong, that he adopts the most curious and ingenious devices for gratifying it without exposing himself or them to public view. After his own personality the great object of his thoughts is the Queen. Round her, as the source of favour and power, the whole poem centres. So dominant are these ideas in his mind that she is a sort of obsession, and he refers to her under various disguises, and addresses her in the language not only of love, but of religious worship. This is partly, no doubt, flattery, after the habit of the time, but it goes far beyond this, and can only rationally be accounted for by the peculiarities of the author's nature.

The author's remarks about his representations of the Queen, in his explanatory letter to Ralegh at the