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LESSON 1
GEOFFREY CHAUCER
THE PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES
Contents
1.0 Aims and Objectives
1.1 Introduction
1.2 Chaucer’s life
1.3 His works
1.4 Translation of the prologue to the Canterbury
1.5 English social life as reflected in the prologue
1.6 style and technique in Chaucer’s prologue to the Canterbury tales

1.7 Let Us Sum Up
1.8 lessons – end activities
1.9 References
1.0 AIMS AND OBJECTIVES
The present lesson presents the following aspects of Geoffrey Chaucer in

detail
1) Chaucer’s life
2) His works
3) Translation of the prologue to the Canterbury.
After reading this lesson you can understand the English social life as reflected in the
prologue, style and technique in Chaucer’s prologue.
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1.1 Introduction
The Age of Chaucer is one of the most active, complicated, vexed and entangled
transitional periods in the history of England. This age was a meeting ground of the
two divergent and incongruous periods—the old and the new, the Medieval and the
Renaissance. The leaven of the Renaissance or the modern spirit was discernible on
the horizon but the Medieval Age by no means had completely passed away. The
Medieval and the Renaissance stood side by side. The distinctive feature of the
Medieval mind is its belief in spirituality and abstract ideas, whereas the Reniassance
lays emphasis on the sensuous and the concrete. In the attitude towards society the
Medieval mind supports communism ; the Renaissance advocates individualism. The
Medieval mind does not tolerate free thought, speculation and reason. "The right of
private judgment, which lies at the very foundation of Protestantism is nothing but a
corollary of the individualism of the Renaissance." (R. K. Root)
1.2 CHAUCER'S LIFE
Geoffrey Chaucer — the Father of English poetry and who is so much the
greatest figure in the English literature of the fourteenth century that he has thrown all
his contemporaries completely into the shade, was born about 1340 in London. His father
did a flourishing business as a merchant vintner.
No information is available about his childhood. But it is evident from the wide
and varied scholarship which characterises his writings that he must have enjoyed the
advantages of the liberal education.
At seventeen he received a court appointment as page to the wife of the Duke of

Clarence, Edward Ill's third son. In 1359 he was with the English army in France,
where he was taken prisoner; but he was soon ransomed, and returned to England.
Some time after this he married, and became valet of the king's chamber. From
that time onward he was for many years closely connected with the court. He was often
entrusted with diplomatic missions on the continent, two of them being to Italy. He was
thus brought into direct touch with Italian culture in the days of the early Renaissance and
may even have met Petrarch and Boccaccio, to the former of whom he makes pointed
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reference in the prologue to the 'Clerkes Tale'. During these years he received many
marks of royal favour, and for a time, sat in Parliament as knight of the shire of Kent.
But after the overthrow of the Lancastrian party and the banishment of his special
patron, John of Gaunt, he fell on evil days and with approaching age felt the actual
pinch of poverty.
Fortunately, on the accession of John of Gaunt's son, Henry IV, things mended
with him, and the grant of a royal pension at once placed him beyond want and anxiety.
At Christmas, 1399, he took a long lease of a house at Westminster, which

suggests that he still looked forward to many years of life. But he died before the next
year was out, and was buried in that part of Westminster Abbey which afterwards came to
be known as the Poets' Corner.
In studying Chaucer's work it is important to remember that his education as a

poet was two- fold. Part of it came from literature; but part of it came from life. He
was a thorough student, and in one of his autobiographical passages (in The House of
Fame) he tells us how after a long day over his accounts, he would go home at night
and there pore over his beloved volumes till he was completely dazed. But he was not a
mere bookman, nor was he in the least a visionary.
Like Shakespeare and Milton he was, on the contrary, a man of the world and of
affairs. He had travelled much; he had seen life; his business at home and abroad brought
him into intimate relations with people of all sorts; and with his quick insight into character
and his keen eye for everything dramatic and picturesque and humorous, he was precisely
the king of poet to profit by such varied experiences. There is much that is purely bookish
in his writings; but in the best of them we are always aware that he is not merely
drawing upon what he has read, but that his genius is being fed by his wide and deep
knowledge of life itself.
1.3 HIS WORKS :
It is usual and convenient to divide Chaucer's literary career into three periods,
which are called his French, his Italian and his English period, respectively. His genius
was nourished, to begin with, on the French poetry and romance which formed the
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favourite reading of the court and cultivated society during the time of his youth.
Naturally he followed the fashion, and his early work was done on French models.
Thus, besides translating portions at least of the then popular Roman de la Rose, he
wrote, among other quite imitative things, an allegory on the death of Blanche, John of
Gaunt's wife, which he called 'The Boke of the Duchesse' (1369), and which is wholly in
the manner of the reigning French school.
Then, almost certainly as a direct result of his visits to Italy French influences
disappear, and Italian influences take their place.
In this second period (1370-84), Chaucer is the disciple of the great Italian
masters, for 'The House of Fame' clearly owes much to Dante while 'Troylus and
Cryseyde', by far his longest single poem, is based upon, and in part translated from,
Boccaccio's 'Filostrato'.
To the close of this period the unfinished 'Legende of Good Women' may also
be referred.
Finally, he ceases to be Italian as he had ceased to be French, and becomes

English. This does not mean that he no longer draws freely upon French and Italian
material. He continues to do this to the end. It simply means that, instead of being
merely imitative, he becomes independent, relying upon himself entirely even for the
use to which he puts his borrowed themes.
To this last period belong, together with sundry minor poems, the 'Canterbury
Tales', in which we have Chaucer's most famous and most characteristic work.
1.4 TRANSLATION OF THE PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY:
When the sweet showers of April have pierced the dry soil of March down to
the roots, and bathed every vein in moisture so that from its vital power the flowers
are born. When the West wind has also breathed upon the tender shoots in every glade
and field with its sweet breath or the spring sun has completed half of its course
through the sign of the Rain and little birds that sleep all night with eyes open (for the
dawn) make their music because their hearts are so thrilled by nature - then people
become anxious to go on pilgrimage and palmers to seek strange shores (visiting the
shrines) of distant saints famous in many lands and above all from the ends of every
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county in England, they proceed to Canterburry to seek the holy blessed martyr (St.
Thomas) who has helped them when they were sick.
One day in that season, as I stayed at the Tabard Inn in Southwak ready to go
with devout heart on my pilgrimage to Canterburry, there happened to come to the inn
in the evening as many as twenty nine in a party, a mixed company whom chance had
brought together and they were all pilgrims who planned to ride to Canterbury. Rooms
and stable were ample and we were entertained comfortably in the best manner. And
to be brief, by sunset I had spoken with everyone of them so that from thereon I
became one of their party and we agreed to rise early to start our journey to
Canterbury, as I describe it to you.
But nevertheless, while I still have the time and space (and) before I continue
this tale, I think it is reasonable to tell you all of the condition of each of them as it
appeared to me and who they were and of what station and also the manner in which
they were dressed; and I will begin with a Knight.
THE KNIGHT (Lines 43 - 78)
There was a Knight who was an honourable man. From the time that he had first
begun to go on compaigns he had loved chivalry, truth, honour, generosity and courtesy. He
had been very brave in the war of his feudal superior ; Moreover while no man had ridden
further than he in Christendom and heathen countries and he had always been acclaimed for his
bravery. He had been at Alexandria when it was captured. On many occasions he had sat at
the head of the table as the most honoured guest in company with the Teutonic Knights. In
Lithuania and Russia had no Christian man of his rank so often gone on military expedition. In
Granada he had been present at the siege of Algeeria and had ridden in Benmarin. He was present'at
Layas and Attaila when they were captured and in the Medittareanean he had been a member
of many noble expeditions./ He had partaken in fifteen mortal battles and had fought for our faith
at Tremsen in three tournaments, always killing his foe. This same brave Knight had also at
one time been with the Lord of Palathia against another heathen in Turkey, since which he had a
great reputation. And although he was brave, he was also wise, and his bearing was as meek as a
girl's.
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He had never spoken in a manner unworthy of a gentleman to any sort of1 person in all
his life. He was a true perfect and noble Knight. But now to tell you of his attire, his horses
were good but he was not gaudily dressed. He wore a gypon (a short vest-like coat worn
under armour) of stout cotton cloth, which was soiled with his coat of mail, for he had recently
returned from his expedition, and was on his way to do his pilgrimage.
THE YOUNG SQUIRE (Lines 79-100)
With him there was his son, a young squire - a lover and a gay'probationer
with hair curled as if it had been laid in a press. I think he was twenty years old. He
was of moderate height and very active and very strong and once only he had been on
a military expedition in Flanders, Artois and Picardy, where he had distinguished
himself, considering his lack of opportunity, as he wished to stand in his lady's favour.
His coat was embroidered all full of fresh white and red flowers, like a meadow. He
sang and played the flute all day and was as fresh as the month of May. His gown was
short, with long wide sleeves. He knew how to sit his horse well and how to ride
excellently. He could compose songs and verses, joust, draw well, write and also
dance. He was so passionate that at night time he slept no more than a nightingale
does. He was courteous, modest and ready to serve and carved for his father at table.
THE YEOMAN (lines 101 - 117)
With him was a Yeoman but no other servant, for it was his pleasure' to ride in
that manner. The Yeoman wore a coat and hood of green and very carefully carried a
sheaf of shiny sharp arrows fitted with peacock feathers under his pouch. In true
Yeoman fashion he took great care over his equipment and his arrows never fell short
because of faulty feathers. He carried a long bow in his hand, his head was closely
shaven and his face was brown. He knew all the techniques of carpentry and carried a
fine guard on his arm, a sword and shield on one side, and a finely decorated spear-
shaped dagger on the other side. He wore a shining silver picture of St. Christopher on
his breast. He also carried a horn which had a green baldric. 1 feel certain that he was
a true Woodsman.
THE PRIORESS (lines 118-164)
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There was also a Nun, a Prioress, who smiled very naturally and coyly. The
strongest oath was shown only by St. Loy and she was called Madame Eglentyne. She
sang the divine service fluently, nasalizing her singing in a fitting manner and she
spoke French very well and elegantly, according to the school of Stratford-by-Bow,
because she was not familiar with Parisian French, Moreover she had been taught well
how to behave at table. She allowed no morsel to fall from her lips nor wet her tongue
deeply in the gravy. She could pick up and keep a morsel well so that no food dropped
nor fell upon her breast. 2'
She set great store by good manners. She wiped her mouth so clean that no small particle
of grease was to be seen in her cup. When she had finished her drink she reached out very
daintily for her food and she certainly was very mirthful while her behaviour was very
pleasant and amiable. She took pains to imitate court manners and to be of stately
deportment so as to be regarded worthy of reverence. But now to mention her
sensitiveness, she was so charitable and so merciful that she would weep if she saw a dead or
bleeding mouse caught in a trap. She had some small dogs which she fed on raost-meat or
milk and bread made of fine white flour. But she would weep piteously if one of them died or
if somebody hit one sharply with a stick and she was all sensibility and tenderness of heart. Her
wimple was attractively pleated ; her nose was long and well formed, her eyes were as grey as
glass ; her mouth was very small and in addition soft and red but certainly she had a noble
forehead. I believe it was almost a span broad ; certainly she was not below average height. I
was aware that her cloak was very neat around her arm, she wore a small rosary made with
coral gauded with green beads and on it hung a beautiful gold broach on which was written
first a capital " A " and after ' Love conquers all things'. Riding with her were another Nun
who served as her assistant and three priests,
THE MONK (lines 165 - 207)
There was a Monk, a good one above all others, who had been appointed to visit the
various properties owned by the monastery and who loved hunting. He was an upright person
and well fitted to be an abbot. He had many valuable horses in his stable and when he rode one
could hear his bridle clearly jingling in a whistling wind as the loud as the chapel bell of the small
monastery where this lord was head. Because the rule of St. Maurers or of St. Benedict was old
and some-what strict, this same Monk ignored the seold things and held his course in conformity
with the new order of things. The Monk did not care for the value of a hen that had lost its
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feathers for the text that says that hunters are not holy men, and that a monk out of the cloister is
as a fish out of the water. But that same text he regarded as not worth an oyster and I said he had
good opinions. Why should he study and make himself mad by studying a book in the cloister, or
work and labour with his hands as Augustine bids? How will this benefit the world? Let
Augustine have his work reserved for himself. Thus he was a hard rider in the hunt all right,
and he had grey hounds who were as swift as birds on the wing, tracking and hunting the hare
by its footmarks was his only pleasure, for which he would spare no cost. I saw that his
sleeves were fringed at the wrist with expensive grey fur the finest in the land for fastening
his hood under his chin he had a curiously shaped brooch wrought in gold, while there was a
love knot in the bigger end. This bald head and his face shone like glass as if he had been
anointed. He was a very fat lord and in good condition. His eyes were bright and rolled in
his head, which shone like a cauldron furnace. His boots were supple and his horses in fine
condition; without a doubt he was a good prelate, He was not pale like a tormented and
wasted ghost and his favourite roast was a fat swan. His palfrey was as brown as a berry.
THE FRANKLIN (lines 331 – 360)
His companion (i.e. the Sergeant) was a Franklin, with a beard as white as a
daisy; he was of sanguine temperament, and liked to have wine, with pieces of bread
or cake dipped into it, in the morning. His desire was always to live in pleasure for he
was a true son of Epicurus, who held the opinion that great pleasure was in reality
perfect happiness. He was a great householder, being a veritable St. Julian in his
district and his bread cellar was known nowhere else. His house was never without
pies of fish and meat and those in such plenty that in house it snowed food and drink
and all the delicacies that one could think of; he varied his food or supper according to
the seasons of the year. He had very many fat partridges in a coop and great numbers
of beams and pikes in his fish pond. Woe betide his cook if his sauce was not
pungent and sharp and with food all the day long. At county meetings of the Assizes
he was representative and Chairman, and on many occasions, he had been Knight of
the Shire. A dagger and a hawking pouch hung at his girdle, which was as white as
morning milk. He had been a Sheriff and a legal auditor; nowhere was there such a
distinguished landowner.
THE FIVE GILDSMEN AND THEIR COOK (lines 361 – 387)
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There were also a Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a cloth weaver, a Dyer and an

upholsterer and they were all dressed in the livery uniforms of a powerful and
important craft guild. Their apparel was fresh and newly trimmed, while their knives
were not fashioned from brass but had sheaths with silver caps, and their belts and
purses were beautifully wrought after the same manner. Each one of them seemed a
burgess worthy to sit on the dais in a gild hall. Their knowledge, wealth, and income
would have justified their position had they been elected as aldermen. Their wives
would have surely been at fault not to have consented to do this – for it is pleasant to
be called ‘Madam’ and good to lead this procession into church and have one’s
mantle carried in royal fashion.
For this occasion they had brought a cook with them, to boil chickens with
marrow-bones, sharp flavoured powder and galingale spice. He could recognize the
flavour of London ale, and could roast, steam, boil and fry, make stew and bake a pie
well. But I felt it was a great pity that he had gangrene on his skin. His masterpiece
was minced chicken in white sauce.
THE SHIPMAN (lines 388 – 411)
There was a shipman who lived far away to the west country for ought I know,
he came from Dartmouth. He rode upon a farm – nag as well as he could, in a gown
of course woollen cloth, (stretching) to the knee. He had a dagger hanging on a cord
about his neck which passed down under his arm. The hot summer sun had made his
complexion quite brown, and undoubtedly he was a rascal. He had stolen very many
mouthfuls of wine on the journey home from Bordeaux while the merchant slept. He
was not troubled by a scrupulous conscience for if he fought and gained the upper
hand, he threw his prisoners into the sea; with regard to his profession there was no
one from Hull to Carthagena as good as (he) at calculating the tides, the currents and
the dangers that beset him, the harbours and (the phases of) the moon and the art of
piloting a ship. He was bold and prudent in his undertaking and his beard had been
shaken by many a tempest. He knew well the havens as they lay from Gottland to
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Cape Finisterre, and every creek in Brittany and in Spain. His vessel was named the
Magdalene.
THE DOCTOR OF PHYSIC (lines 412 – 414)
With us there was a doctor of medicine; there was no one like him in all the
world in the sphere of medicine and surgery, for he was well versed in astrology; he
took very great care of his patients at the critical hours by means of astrology. He was
skilful in choosing a favourite time for making astrological figures for his patients
when the influence of the planets would make these most effective. He knew the
cause fo every disease; whether it came from excess of hot, cold, moist or dry and
where they had originated and in what ‘humour’ : he was a very perfect practitioner.
Once the cause and origin of the malady was known, he at once gave the sick man his
remedy. He had his chemists always prepared to send him drugs and medicinal
powders, as each of them brought profit to the other; their friendship was no new
thing. He was familiar with the old Aesculapius, with Dioscorides, and also Rufus.
Old Hippocrates, Hali and Galen, Serapion, Rhazes and Avicenna, Avenoes, John of
Damascus, Constantine, Bernard, Gaddesden and Gilbertine. In his diet he was
temperate, as it was very nourishing and easily digestible and contained no excesses.
He very seldom studied the Bible. He was dressed in red and blue- grey lined with
taffeta, and thin silk and yet his expenditure was moderate; he saved what he earned
during times of plague. Since Gold is the heart stimulant in medicine, he thus
especially loved it.
THE WIFE OF BATH (lines 445 – 476)
There was a good wife from near Bath, but she was somewhat deaf, and this
was a pity. She was so skilful at cloth- making that she surpassed those of Ypres and
Ghent. Of all the parish wives there was none who had the right to go to the offering
(i.e. bread and wine offered at the altar for consecration) before her, and if one did,
she became so angry that she showed no charity. Her head coverings were very finely
woven and I can swear that the ones she wore on Sunday weighed ten pounds. Her
stockings were of the finest scarlet and very tightly laced, while her shoes were very
soft and new. She had a bold fair face, with red complexion She had been a wealthy
woman all her life and had been married legally on five occasions besides having
other lover in her youth, but for the present there is no need to speak about that. She
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had thrice been to Jerusalem and had crossed many a foreign river. She had been to
Rome, Boulogne, Cologne, and to the shrine of St. James in Galicia ; she knew a great
deal about traveling along the roads. To tell the truth she was gap-toothed. She sat
easily upon her ambling horse, well provided with a wimple and with a hat as large as
a small round shield. She had a large foot-cloth about her hips and on her feet a pair
of sharp spurs. In company she knew well how to laugh and chatter; perhaps she
knew (Ovid’s) Remedia amoris for she was well versed in all the approved devices of
love-making.
THE POOR PARSON (lines 477 – 528)
There was a good religious man, a poor town parson, who (nevertheless) was
rich in pious thoughts and deeds. He was also an educated man, a scholar, who
genuinely preached Christ’s Gospel and devoutly taught his parishioners. He was
gentle, extremely hard working and had proved himself on numerous occasions to be
very patient in adversity. He was extremely reluctant to demand his tithes, and
undoubtedly would give his poor parishioners in the neighbourhood his Easter money
and also his own property. His material needs were easily satisfied. Those who were
in sickness or in adversity were visited by the Parson, who trudged staff in hand to the
farthest reaches of his wide parish, with houses far asunder, in all weathers and at all
times. The shepherd set a noble example to his flock, which he had learnt from the
Gospel. He first practised good works and then taught them. If a priest be ungodly in
whom congregants place their trust – then the sinful man will quickly degenerate for
should gold rust what can be expected of iron? But it is an even greater shame to
have a sinful shepherd and pure sheep. By his clean living, a priest should set an
example to his parishioners. The Parson did not hire out his services leaving his
congregants without leadership, nor did he run to St. Paul’s in London to answer the
advertisement of some craft gild for a chaplain to be retained by that body, instead he
stayed at home to guard his flock from mischief; he was a true parson, not a
mercenary. And although he was a virtuous and holy person, he did not despise sinful
men, nor was gentle and discreet. His task was to save souls by setting a good
example. But should a person prove obstinate, then the parson should sharply reprove
the erring parishioner, no matter what his station was in life, I believe that a better
priest is to be found nowhere else. He did not seek honour or respect, nor was he so
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over concerned with fine points that he lost sight of the lessons of Christ and his
twelve Apostles, which he taught though first followed them himself.
THE PLOWMAN (lines 528 – 541)
With him (i.e. the Parson) was his brother, a Plowman, who in his time, had
pulled many a cart- load of manure, for he was a good, honest worker who lived
peacefully and was charitable to all. Whether it caused him pleasure or pain, he loved
God with his whole heart at all times and (next to God) he loved his neighbours as
himself. To please God, he was prepared to thresh, dig ditches, and lay water
channels for all poor folk without charge if he possibly could. He paid the tithes
derived from his own labour and those derived from the profits on his stock fully and
regularly. He wore a sleeveless oat and rode a mare”.
THE MILLER (Lines 542 – 566)
Except for a Reeve a Miller, a Summoner, a Pardoner, a Manciple and myself

(i.e. Chaucer) there were no other pilgrims.
The Miller was an exceedingly stout fellow, with very big muscles and bones;
these served him well, for everywhere he went he always won the wrestling contests.
He was a short-shouldered, broad thick set fellow and there was no door that he could
not heave off its hinge, or break open by running at it with his head. He had a broad,
spade-like beard, which was as red as a sow or a fox. He had a mark on the tip of his
nose, which was surmounted by a tuft of red hair, which resembled the bristles in a
sow’s ear; he had flaring black nostrils. A sword and a small round shield hung at his
side; his mouth was a wide as a great furnace. He was an idle talker and a teller of
indecent stories of sin and harlotries. He well knew how to steal corn and take his toll
three times, and yet, by God, he had a thumb of gold (in other words he illustrated the
old proverb, ‘An honest miller has a golden thumb’ – i.e. he was as honest as millers
go, which implies that he was not honest at all). He wore a white coat and a blue
hood. He could blow and play a bagpipe well, and with it he piped us. (i.e. the
pilgrim party) out of town.
THE MANCIPLE (lines 567 – 586)
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There was a noble Manciple who served a College for lawyers, from whom
buyers of victuals take an example on how prudently to purchase – for, whether he
bought for cash or on credit he always came out well and ahead of everyone else.
Now, is not God good to allow an ignorant fellow to surpass the learned in sharp
wits? He had ore than thirty masters who were expert and skilled lawyers of which
there were a dozen in that college capable of being stewards of income and property
for any lord in England not only could they have seen to it that such a lord lived
honourably on his own income or as economically as he pleased unless he was mad
but they were able to help a whole country in any legal dispute that might arise and
yet, in spite of all this, the Manciple made fools of them all.
THE REEVE (lines 587 – 622)
The Reeve was slightly-built, bad tempered man, whose beard was shaven
closely to the skin, while his hair was cut around his ears and tonsured shortly at the
front of his head in priestly fashion; his legs were as long and thin as walking sticks,
and his calves could not be seen. He well knew how to keep a granary and a bin and
no auditor could detect mistake in his accounts, while by observing the dry and rainy
seasons of the year, he knew exactly when to sow and when to reap. This Reeve was
in complete charge of his lord’s sheep, cattle, dairy, swine, horses, stock and poultry.
Ever since his lord was twenty years old he had been under contract to render the
estate accounts and no one could ever discover him to be in arrears. There was no
bailiff, herdman or farm labuorer who was in any way cunning or deceitful that he did
not know about and they were as fearful of him as of the plague. His pleasant home
upon the heath was shaded with green trees. He could make purchases more
advantageously than his lord could and he had secretly enriched his own barns
through craftily pleasing his lord by giving and lending him even from his own
property and being rewarded with the lord’s thanks and gifts of a gown and hood. In
his youth he had learnt a useful trade and could work competently as a carpenter.
This Reeve sat upon a low-bred, undersized horse of dapple grey which was called
Scot; he wore a long overcoat of bluish grey carried a rusty sword by his side. This
Reeve of whom I am speaking came from Norfolk and lived near a town called
Baldewelle. His long coat was tucked into his girdle in friar-like fashion and he
always rode at the rear of the company.
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THE SUMMONER (lines 623 – 668)
With us in that place was a Summoner (i.e. one paid to summon serves to trial
before an ecclesiastical Court) who had a fiery red cherubic face covered with
pimples. His eyes were small and he was as lustful and lecherous as a sparrow, while
his eye brows were scably and black and his beard scanty – children were afraid of his
appearance. There was no quicksilver lead-ointment sulphur, borax, white lead,
cream of tartar, or any other ointment which could cleanse and cauterize his skin, rid
him of his white pimples and cure the boils, which disfigured his cheeks. He was
passionately fond of garlic, onions and leeks and loved strong blood red wine, and,
under its influence, he would shout and loved strong blood red wine, and under its
influence, he would shout and cry out as if he had taken leave of his senses – (in fact)
when he was well he was well sodden with wine he would only speak Latin. He knew
two or three legal phrases which he had learnt from some document, which was no
wonder since he heard such terms all day long and it is well known that the parrot can
call out Walter as well as the Pope. But if any one questioned him on something else,
it would soon be found that he had exhausted all his knowledge and would cry out
‘What section of the law applies to this case?” Although he was a good-natured,
gentle rogue and one would not find a better fellow, yet, in return for a quarter of
wine, he would turn a blind eye on a friend’s immorality for 12 months. He well
knew how to plunder a foolish fellow and if he encountered some doubtful rascal, he
would put his mind at rest and teach him not to be afraid of the Archdeacon’s powers
of excommunication unless his soul lay in his purse (i.e. he was a miser) for it was
only in the purse that punishment need take place – ‘purse is the Archadeaon’s hell’
he declared. For my part I know quite well that he lied since every guilty man should
fear excommunication in which lies the path of death just as absolution will save the
soul so one should certainly be wary of excommunication (significant’ was the first
word in the writ authorising the seizure of the goods of an excommunicated person).
According to his own way, he had all the young people of the diocese in his power,
since he knew all their secrets and acted as their adviser. He wore on his forehead a
garland which was large enough to have served as an inn-sign, while he had made a
small shield for himself and of a loaf of bread.
THE PARDONER (lines 669 – 714)
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Alongside the Summoner there rode a noble Pardoner from the Priory of
Rouncivale, his friend and his companion, who had recently come from the (Papal)
Court of Rome, and who loudly sage the song ‘Come hither, love, to me!” while the
Summoner accompanied him in such a deep bass that a trumpet could never make half
as much din. This Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax which hung smoothly like a
bundle of flax, his lacks hung in narrow strands and covered his shoulders. Out of
jolliness he wore no hood, which was packed in his bag, for to him it seemed more
festive to ride bareheaded, except for a cap on his disheveled locks, on which he had
embroidered a copy of St. Veronica’s handkerchief. He had hare-like, staring eyes, a
voice as thin as a goat and wore no beard-nor was he likely to have one, as his chin
was as smooth as if just recently shaved. His bag lay on his lap before him brimful of
pardons, hot from Rome, and with regard to his profession, there was never such a
pardoner from Berwick down to Ware. In his bag he had a pillow case which he
claimed was our Lady’s Veil; he said he had a piece of the sail belonging to St. Peter
when the latter walked upon the sea until Jesus Christ saved him; he had a cross of
brass studded with stones, and the bones of a pig in a glass. By means of these relics
he made more money in a day than a poor county parson can make in two months.
And thus with feigned flattery and tricks he made fools of the person and his
congregants. But in conclusion he was a noble preacher in church; he could read well
a lesson or a story, but best of all he sang the ‘Mass anthem’ for he knew full well
that, when that song was sung, he might preach and polish his tongue to gain silver;
and as he could do this excellently, so he sang even more cheerfully and loudly.
AUTHOR’S PLAN OF REPORTING (lines 715 – 746)
Now in a few words I have accurately told you the condition, the attire, the
number and also the purpose of this company assembling in Southwark at this
excellent hostelry called the Tabard, close beside this excellent hostelry called the
Tabard, close beside the Bell. But now it is true to tell you how we spent that evening
after arriving at the inn, thereafter I will recount our journey and all the rest of our
pilgrimage.
But first of all, I beg your courtesy not to think me ill-bred, if I speak plainly
about this matter, telling you of their words and there actions, though I report their
speech accurately. For you know as well as I do that anyone who wishes to repeat a
15
tale he had heard from another, must repeat if possible, every phrase as faithfully as
he can, eventhough these be rough and rude; otherwise, if it is recast into refined
works and fresh phrases, the story will no longer be genuine. The story-teller must
not filnch, eventhough it were his brother’s word he is repeating for, having spoken
one word, he might as well complete the tale. Christ himself spoke quite openly in
the Holy Scriptures, and you are well aware that there is nothing unseemly therein.
And Plato also says, for those able to read him that ‘The words must be closely
related to the facts’.
I also beg of you to forgive me if I have not placed the people of the story in
their proper places according to their rank in life, since you will realize that my
knowledge (about these matters) is limited.
THE HOST AND HIS PROPOSALS (lines 747 – 84)
Our Host provided good fare for everyone of us, set us down to supper without
more ado, and served as with an excellent meal, during which we were glad to drink
the strong wine. Our Host was a striking person, fit to be master of ceremonies in a
guild hall. He was a well-built man, with bright eyes-there was certainly no more
prosperous citizen in Cheapside; although outspoken in his speech, he was both
prudent and tactful and lacked none of the manly qualities. In addition, he was an
extremely cheerful fellow, and after supper began to play music, while among other
things, when we had paid our accounts, he spoke as follows : ‘Now my masters, you
are truly and heartily welcome : by my troth I am not lying when I declare that I have
not seen this year such a cheerful company in this tavern as is now gathered all
together. I am anxious to entertain you to the best of my ability and a thought has just
struck me of some fun to put you at your ease, which will cost you nothing at all.
You are going to Canterbury – May God speed you on your way and the
blessed martyr grant you your reward. And I have no doubt, that you go along the
way you intend to tell stories and entertain ourselves, since it is neither pleasure nor
fun to ride along the road in stony silence. Consequently, as I said just now, I shall
provide some fun for you and see that you are cheerful. If you are all in unanimous
agreement to stand by my decision and do what I tell you as you ride along the way
tomorrow, then, by the soul of my late father, you can have my head if I don’t succeed
in cheering you up’. Without further ado let us have a show of hands.
16
We were not long about making up our minds as it was not worthwhile
making it a subject for serious discussion. We granted his request at once and asked
him to announce his plans whenever he pleased. ‘Masters, he said, Listen to me
carefully, but I pray you, do not be disdainful of what I have to say. To cut a long
story short, the point is this: to shorten the journey each member of his pilgrimage
shall tell two tales. I mean, two on the way to Centerbury, and a further two on the
homeward trip, of adventures that once actually happened. And that one who acquits
himself best of all, that is to say, the one who relates stories of the highest moral
teaching and edification on this occasion, shall be given a supper in this very tavern at
the expenses of all of us when we return from Canterbury. And, to cheer you up all
the more, I shall gladly accompany you on your trip. Pay my own expense and serve
you as your guide, And if any one disputes my decision he shall pay all our traveling
expenses. If you agree that this plan should be carried out tell me immediately
without any further discussion and I will straightway prepare myself.
The promise was made and we swore our oaths with glad hearts, requesting
him to carry on as he planned, and asking him to serve as our leader, so that he could
judge and comment on our tales and we would abide by all his decisions. We also
asked him to prepare a (return) supper at a quoted price. Thus we unanimously set
him up in judgment over us and wine was served at once. After drinking it, everyone
retired without further delay.
THE PILGRIMAGE BEGINS (lines 822 – 858)
With the coming of dawn next morning our host was up first and awoke us all
like a cock. He gathered us all together in a company and we rode forth at little more
than a walking pace to St. Thomas’s Well. There our host reined in his horse and
said, ‘Gentleman, listen if you please – although you probably recall our plan, I shall
remind you about it. If you are still in agreement with what we arranged last evening,
let us now see who shall tell the first story. As I hope to go on drinking good wine
and ale, whoever opposes my decision will pay for all our traveling expenses. Now let
us draw lots before we go any further, and he who draws the shortest straw will make
a start. Sir Knight,” he went on, “my lord and master, draw your straw, for that is
17
my decision. come nearer” he said “my lady Prioress, and you Sir Clerk, don’t be shy
and come out of your day-dream; let every one show a hand.
Immediately everyone came forward for the draw, and, to be brief. whether it
was by luck, fate or chance, the truth is that the draw fell to the Knight. This pleased
everyone tremendously, for he now had to tell his story as was only right, according
to our arrangement, as you have heard. What more need I add?” When this good
man saw what had happened, he said, like one who is prudent to his freely given
promise, “Since I must begin the entertainment, in God’s name let the draw be
welcome! Let us continue our journey, and listen to what I have to say.” And with
these words we rode forth on our pilgrimage; and in right cheerful mood, be began to
tell his tale forthwith relating it as follows :
1.5 ENGLISH SOCIAL LIFE AS REFLECTED IN THE PROLOGUE
In the “Prologue to the canterbury Tales” the members of the English society
pause before us long enough for us to identify each one. Each has his own life and an
identity which is for all time, yet together they sum up a society.
All the writers of the fourteenth century reveal some aspect of contemporary
life and of prevailing feeling and thought. In poets like Wychiff Gower and hangland,
and the unknown poet of Pearl, we get a partial view of life and society in which they
lived. But Chaucer’s work reflects his century not in fragments, but completely.
More than this, he is often able to discern permanent feathers beneath the garments of
a day, to penetrate to the everlasting springs of human action. His truthful pictures of
his age and country contain a truth which is of all time and all countries. He portrays
the social and literary tendencies of the eighteenth century in his poems in the most
faithful way, and voices forth its ideals, hopes and aspirations. Chaucer, can very
well be considered they representative of the world of fourteenth century England.
There are thirty of the pilgrims, following the most diverse trades. The knight
with his son, the squire, and the Yeoman who bore the Squire’s arms, represent the
fighting class. A Doctor of Physic, a Man of Law, a Clerk of Oxford, and the poet
himself, give a glimpse of the liberal profession. The land is represented by a
Ploughman, a Miller, a Reeve and a Franklin; trade by a Merchant and a shipman; the
crafts by a Wife of Bath, a Haberdasher, a Carpenter a Wabbe or Weaves, a Dyer, and
18
a Tapicer; the victuallars by a Municipal, a cook, and the Host of the Tabard. The
secular clergy provide the good Parson, and the odios summoner of an ecclesiastical
court, who are joined on the road by a Canon addicted to alchnecy. The monastic
orders supply a full contingent – a rich Benedicture. Monk, a Prioress with her chaplin
Nun, a mendicant Frias; and not far from these religious lurks a doubtfully accredited
Pardones.
Chaucer’s knight is a personification of the lofty ideals of medieval chivalry

keenly sensitive to human values. He deftly uses swift and light language consistent
with the sprightliness of the youthful squire in contrast to the stately measures used to
describe the courtly dignity of his father – the Knight. His flair for music and dance
he shared with ladies and gentlemen of his class. Following the conventions of his
society he was proficient in drawing, horsemanship and jousting.
The type of the clergy abounding in worldliness that the Monk represents
becomes the subject of Chaucer’s satire. There is no evidence to establish the
individual identity of the mark. He is a composite portrait serving as a comment on
the general deterioration in monasteries and the need for reforms in the functioning of
the church. Though the portrait of the clerk recalls many of the trades of a philosopher
there is an undercurrent of irony in Chaucer’s pun on the meaning of philosophers.
Chaucer reports inoutward praise and inward condemnation of the

characteristic of his Sergeant and renders him a man of purely material success. His
profession combined with his legal skills gives him ample scope for acquiring wealth
either by honest means of by deception. Chaucer comments on his greed to purchase
enormous landed property. The Franklin appears to be a man of substance who is an
extremely hospitable and a loyal servant of the king who discharges the duties of his
office efficiently. However, Chaucer does not totally exempt him from a few lapses
that flesh is heir to. The one weakness of the Franklin is a large capacity and desire
for self- indulgence.
Gilds were either socio-religious or trade organizations. The five gildsmen

obviously pursue different trades but belong to the same socio-religious fraternity.
Social life is largely governed and regulated by these gilds. The portraits of the five
guildsmen and their cook gives us more or less a thumb nail sketch of English social
ife and the role of the gilds in the growth and development of society. The cook is the
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most disreputable among the pilgrims. All these characters represents the secular
interests. Medicine as a science was still in its infancy when Chaucer wrote. The
influence of the stars on man’s behaviour fortune and health is deeply believed by the
people. The doctor also shares this faith.
The position of women in the medieval church differed essentially from that of
men. Chaucer’s Madame Eglentine suits the world of the elegant country club in
every respect. In this she was typical of the common patterns of nuns who ought
normally to have remained unseen and in seclusion. She is simple and coy, given to
affection. For example, she sings the service divine in a nasal voice. She does not
know the French of Paris, but can speak French of the school of Straford Att Bowe
very well. She has fine table manners, and lets no morsel fall on her dress. She is
refined and delicate and does not soil her fingers in the sauce.
The wife of Bath has evoked diverse comments. Some consider her coarse and
dissolute, while others consider her to be a refreshing extrovert. But her good humour,
warmth and outspokenness are seldom lost on the readers. Next to her love affairs,
what she relish most if traveling in gay company. Love of travel rather than religious
zeal is what prompts her to undertake a pilgrimage. The prologue to her tale is vivid
account of her varied married life.
Chaucer endows the Prioress with physical charms normally associated with
the ladies of romance and of the court. Her habits too are more those of a secular
heroine than of an officer in a convent. He remarks that the Prioress is “charitable
and piteous”, that is she has the virtue of charity and mercy, to be expected of
someone dedicated to a religious life. The illustration he then gives of her charity and
pity concern not other people, but her pets. The “smale houndes” get the roasted
meat, milk and finest bread that were regarded as delicacies in a society, in which, a
good many people never had enough to eat. It seems a misdirected kind of charity
and pity.
This good lady is sometimes condemned outright as worldly, ambitious, and

insensitive to the sufferings of others. What he does note is the Prioress’ concern with
good manners and courtly etiquette. In the fifty lines that he devotes to the Prioress,
he has shown with gentle irony his estimation of the lady and his amusement in
catching her aping of courtly manners, showing a good secular taste in clothes and
20
jewellery and harbouring a love of pets rather than human beings of the less attractive
sort.
Chaucer emphasizes the prioress’ basic feminity, rather than her spiritual
qualities, “But sikerly she hadde a fair forehead “(The Prologue, 11.154). He not only
draws attention to the lady’s beauty but also reminds that as a religious her forehead
should not have been thus visible. Chaucer’s characterization of the prioress is
extremely subtle, and his satire – if it can be called satire at all – is of the gentlest and
more sympathetic sort. The closing remark about her brooch and motto has often
been misunderstood, and the whole spirit of the passage consequently misrepresented.
Chaucer’s Monk show as a great scorn for such an old- fashioned practice as
working with his hands – he is a modern! In Chaucer’s representation of the Monk
there is the same element of irony as in that of the Prioress. The Monk is also
depicted as something of a worldling. Two fundamental rules for the conduct of
monks in the Middle Ages were the obligations to work and to remain within their
cloister. For Chaucer’s Monk hunting is the favourite pastime and he indicates his
irritation with those who objected to hunting clergy in a homely and vividly phrase: It
is significant that the aristocratic sport of hunting, to which he was so addicted, was
forbidden to all monks. He might only fish in preparation for the days of abstinence
when meat was forbidden.
The Friar had little interest in penitence; his purpose was to gain a “good
pittance”. Chaucer acidly describe the Friar’s view that all the sinner needs to do is
to give money to a “poor” order to obtain divine forgiveness. The Friar knows the
taverns and barmaids of every town far better than the lepers or beggers: The foibles
of the Prioress are also treated with amused indulgences. But for the two clerics the
Summoner and the Pardoner hold offices which lend themselves to abuse, and of this
they take full advantage. The Pardoner, the Friar and the Summoner are his interest in
rogues, ecclesiastics and preachership. For the Friar and the Summoner he has
created a comody of contempt, bordering in the case of the Summoner on hatred. His
full comedy of hatred is reserved for the Pardoner, who is the centre of the ironic
rather than a satiric vision.
Both men are shown as a sick men, hysterical and a little mad, and this should
be interpreted in both the spiritual and physical senses. Had they been healthy they
21
might have been included earlier in the list of ecclesiastics and their power is literary
creations might have been diminished. Like many of Chaucer’s creation they stem
from the popular evaluation of living men.
That there were many abuses in the life and work of the Church in the later
fourteenth century is also evident from the prologue. They took many forms, but
underlying them all was a desire for personal gain, whether in the shape of wealth, or
personal honour, or greater material comfort. Chaucer’s Monk enjoyed hunting a
great deal more than the studious seclusion of his cloister, and a prioress is as aware
of worldly esteem as the very worldly wife of Bath or the equally aspiring
tradesman’s wives mentioned in the lines 376 – 78. And as for the desire for gain, it
is obvious from the clothes worn by pilgrims pledged to simple and austere living and
the unscrupulous dealings to others, whether men of the church like the Friar and the
Pardoner or the Shipman or the Miller. There were quite a few among Chaucer’s
twenty nine pilgrims who were ready to ignore both the teaching and the warnings of
their church for the sake of personal profit. One can be sure that Chaucer was not
exaggerating the evils of the society of his time.
On the other hand, there were those who took their faith and observances more
seriously, like the knight ho hastened to Canterbury to give thanks after his latest
campaign, or the Parson whom Chaucer singles out as a model of righteous unselfish
living. Chaucer is always ready to give praise when he finds to do so. It so happens
that the result in both cases is the same, for whether Chaucer is criticizing or
commending people’s conduct he is drawing attention to their relationship with the
Church and stressing the latter’s importance in his time. It is because the Church was
still so much the centre of the medieval society that Chaucer includes nines
ecclesiastical pilgrims among his company and devotes more than three hundred lines
of The Prologue to the description of the seven of them.
As professional churchmen and women they would attract attention not only
as individuals, but as representatives of the Church, and Chaucer packs a good deal of
criticism in to these seven portraits. Although he makes allowances, he speaks out
boldly against corrupt institutions like the selling of pardons, for which the church
itself was primarily to blame. The contrast with the lay pilgrims is obvious, for they
are not representatives in the same way: the Miller may not be scrupulously honest,
22
but there is nothing wrong with milling as a trade, and similarly with the other crafts
and professions. This is not to say, of course, that the church pilgrims are somehow
“types” and others not; far from it; Chaucer does seem to suggest that while an
irresponsible or corrupt churchman does harm to the whole church a dishonest trader
does not in the same way harm the whole of his profession.
The Parson, self-effacing, dutiful and altruistic, is a positive and unpretentious

man, presented by the poet entirely without irony, He needed the tithes, the tax of
one-tenth upon the produce of the faithful in the parish. The sketch of the parson is
an ideal portrait of a good p1arish priest. The Parson’s portrait in comparison with
those of the Monk and Friar, is like a drink of cold water after being excited and
fuddled by wine; satiric ambiguities and ironic tones vanish in favour of a simple
purity.
And with the exception of the Parson, and perhaps his brother the ploughman,
all pilgrims, especially the churchmen, have their eyes very much on things of this
world. In an age when so many members of the clergy were lax and selfish and
neglectful of their duties, he stands out as almost unbelievably righteous and
conscientious. Indeed, the only fault is his lack of patience with obstinate sinners.
Chaucer was not content to make his pilgrims typical only of their several
callings. Sometimes a classification of another kind crosses with that by traders and
enriches it. Thus the squire stands for youth and the Ploughman for the perfect
charity stands for the humble, while in the Wife of Bath there is the essence of satire
against women. Nor is this all. Chaucer, by details he was observed for himself, puts
life into conventional descriptions and generalizations made by others. He adds
individual to generic features; even when he paints a type he gives the impression that
he is painting some one person whom he hyappens to have met. He mixes these two
elements in varying proportions and with great although imperceptible skill. His
figures, a little more generated would be frozen into symbolism, mere cold
abstractions, while a few more purely individual features would cause confusion,
destroying landmarks and leading attention astray. Chaucer does not only draw frank
or delicately traced portraits which give to his character the immobility to
permanence. He also makes each pilgrim step out the frame in which he first placed
him.
23
Thus English society, which to the visionary England seemed a swarming and
confused mass, a mob of men stumbling against each other in the semi-darkness of a
nightmare, was distributed by Chaucer among a group which is clearly seen, restricted
in size, and representative. Its members pause before us long enough for us to
identity each one. Each has his own life and an identity which is for all time, yet
together they sum up a society.
1.6 STYLE AND TECHNIQUE IN CHAUCER’S PROLOGUE TO THE

CANTEBURY TALES:
The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales has, ever since Dryden’s day, been
recognized as one of Chaucer’s sure master-pieces. The Prologue contains pictures
from the fourteen century England which no Medieval writer had ever attempted.
They are full of direct and personal touches. Chaucer with a universal artful talent
makes the speaker unconsciously a self – satirist. The extraordinary vividness and
precision of the presentment of images, whether complicated or simple, is remarkable.
His astonishing command of rhetoric, his “gold dewdrops of speech” is wonderful.
The inexhaustible freshness and propriety of his phrase deserve all praise and
appreciation. Chaucer is the earliest English poet who can, without reservations and
allowances, be called great and what is more, one of the greatest even to the present
day.
The Prologue describes the cavalcade of the pilgrims to the shrine of Becket
and depicts each in a series of wonderful vignettes. His catalogue opens with the
prioress and the Monk, who were fairly high in the scale; continues with the Friar and
Nun’s priest or Chaplain; turns next to the Person and the Clerk, and ends with the
Summoner and the Pardoner who are left at the tail of the list because they were in a
literal sense the dregs, and brought disgrace to the Church by their malpractices. Had
the prioress been less worldly she should have been excluded from the list, but since
she is the unique Madame Eglentine she is out in the world, and demands inclusion.
The Monk from his monastery; the prioress from her convent, her attendant
priest, the village parson, and the roaming Friar, sufficiently covered the more usual
religious categories. The courtly pretensions of the prioress and the humble origins of
the parson, the brother of Pluoghman, showed the comparative unimportance of
personal rank in the religious life. At an infinite moral and social depth below all
24
these came the pardoner and the summoner. Chaucer, looking about him, sees fit to
define a large proportion of his character by where they stand with regard to the
church.
The simplicity of Chaucer’s method, its complete lack of any artifice, the sure
hand with which he traced portraits to form the prologue of his Tales, are surprising.
He made is group of pilgrims into a picture of the society of his time of which the like
is not to be found elsewhere. Except for royalty and the nobles one the one hand, and
the drugs of the people on the others, two classes whom probability excluded from
sharing a pilgrimage, he painted, in brief, almost the whole English nation.
Chaucer has collected the descriptions of the pilgrims in his general prologue,
which is a true picture – gallery. His twenty – nine traveling companions make almost
as many portraits, hung from its walls. They face us, in equidistant frames, on the
same plane, all hanging on the line. Chaucer is a primitive, aiming at exactness of
feature and correctness of emblem. He is primitive also a by a certain honest
awkwardness, the unskilled stiffness of some of his outlines, and such an insistence
one minute point as at first provokes a smile. He seems to a mass details haphazard,
alternates the particular of a costume with the points of a character, drops the one for
the other, picks either up again. Sometimes he interrupts the painting of a pilgrim’s
character to put colour on him face or his tunic. It is an endearing carelessness, which
hides his art and heightens the impression he makes of veracity. Whoever enters this
gallery is first struck by some patches of brilliant colour, dominating one or other of
the portraits, the squire’s gown :
‘Embrowded was he, as it wear a mede,
Al full of fresshe Houres, white and reede, and near him the Yeoman who
serves him ‘in coote and hood of grene.” How the Prioress’s rosary, ‘of small coral’,
with its decades, ‘guaded al with grene’, and it handing brooch’ of gold ful scheme’,
stands out against her dress! There are faces as strongly coloured as any of the fabrics
or accessories – the pustulous countenance of the sompnour, ‘a tyr-reed cherubynes
face,’
‘With skalled browes blak, and piled berd, and the Miller, whose beard ‘as any
sowe or fox was reed’ with his ward whence sprouts a tuft of red hairs, his wide and
25
black nostrils, and his mouth ‘as wyde as was a great forneys. There are also duller
colours to rest the sight, and to make the cruder hues more brilliant by contrast. The
pious and modest knight was ‘nought gay’.
‘Of fustian he werede a gepoun,
All bysmotered with his habergeoun.’
The poor Clerk was ‘ful threadbare’, the Man of Law’ rood but hoomly in a
medled coote’, the Reeve wore a ‘long surcote of pers’, or blue, and the good Parson
is drawn without line or colour, so that we are free to imagine him lit only by the light
of the Gospel shining from his eyes.
Essential moral characteristics are thrown into relief with the same apparent
simplicity and the same real command of means as the colours and the significant
articles of clothing. Mere statements of fact, suggestive anecdotes, particulars relating
to calling and individual traits, lines of summing up a character – all these make up a
whole which stands out upon its canvas. The outline is strong and clear, although
sometimes a little stiff, in the steady light which is shed on it, and it is unforgettable.
A distinctive feature of the General Prologue is its method of characterization.

Each of the pilgrims who is described is revealed in such sharp and clear detail that
we feel personally acquainted with him or her as an individual, and at the same time
we recognize him as representative, not only of a social class, but of a type of
character which may be recognized in any country and in any age. Nothing like this
series of portraits had ever appeared in literature. It is the main reason for the
perennial appeal of the General Prologue. Any analysis of these portraits must be
inadequate to account for their extra ordinary charm.
Chaucer represents his times completely, not in fragments : there is also a

universal element in his poetry. He is the creator of the modern English versification.
He imported the heroic couplet from France and used it with great ease and fluency. He
experimented with a number of metres and stanza patterns. He invented the Rhyma Royal or
the Chaucerian stanza (ab a b b c c). "He found English a dialect and left it a language."
Except for Blank Verse, he left English poetry fully equipped. He also used Terza Rhyma
for his 'A Complaint unto His Lady'. He inculcated into the East Midland dialect the
refinement and courtliness of France. He imparted to his own tongue the grace and
26
refinement he found in French poetry. "A Frenchman may enter Chaucer's country and be
conscious of no change" (Legouis).
Chaucer modernised grammar and vocabulary of his tongue. He coined many new
words, and imported many others. In this way, he enriched his tongue. He imparted to
English verse a rare music and melody which is learnt from France. "His claim on our
gratitude is two-fold," says Long, "first for discovering the music that is in our English
speech and second for his influence in fixing the Midland Dialect as the literary language of
England." He changed the very nature, syntax and grammar of the English tongue.
Chaucer’s poetry is characterised by clarity in expression zest for life, the

enjoyment of nature and restraint in the expression of emotion, feeling whether pathetic or
ironic. He provokes smiles rather than loud laughter. His humour is rich and varied. In
this respect, he is second only to Shakespeare. He added realism to English poetry. The
prologue to the Canterbury Tales gives us a realistic picture of the social life of the
times. He used, a stronger and richer poetical language and similies and metaphors such as
were used by the classical authors. This was mainly due to the Italian influence.
Chaucer is the supreme story teller in verse. He has greater sense of narrative
unities and can be more precise and to the point, when he likes, than any of his
contemporaries. His mastery of the art of narration has led many to call Chaucer, the
father of the English novel. His Canterbury Tales are so many novels in miniature. They
are only to be translated into prose to become so many modern novels. That is why
'Long' has called his Prologue to the Canterbury Tales as "the Prologue to the modern
fiction."
Chaucer has his own limitations. According to Matthew Arnold, he does not
have that sublimity and high seriousness which is the sign of great poetry. He
represents the growth of intelligence and the consequent weakening of passion and
imagination. Since a lyric is a compound of imagination and passion there is lack of
lyricism in his poetry. He cannot, therefore, be regarded as great as the great classics.
Limitations of his narrative art have already been noted above.
Chaucer, however, is capable of pathos and irony which sometimes blend as

tragedy. Sometimes as melodrama. As one reads Chaucer, the inescapable
conclusion comes again that the great poet was forever concerned with the essential
27
irony of human existence, with the rather ludicrous mockery arising from joy and
ambition dashed unexpectedly by frustration and despair.
Chaucer’s style is characterized chiefly by simplicity. Except in those cases

where the author uses archaic form to preserve the rhyme effect, his words are
commonplaces of ordinary people in ordinary circumstances. His sentences are
simple in form and structure and noticeably free of studied balance. Indeed his
writing is singularly free of the far- fetched puns and metaphors which characterize
Shakespeare. To read Chaucer, then, is much like listening to a cultured and
accomplished story teller. The tales tell themselves without effort or delay.
The device of a springtime pilgrimage, the diverse group of persons making

up the company, and the adventures one can reasonably except on such a journey,
provided Chaucer with a wide range of characters and experiences. The setting does
not permit boredom. We are told in the Prologue that each member of the company
was to tell two stories. This would have amounted to sixty tales, plus the author’s
account of the stay in Canterbury.
Chaucer, who had composed on of the great classics of English literature in a

largely playful mood, embracing and enjoying all the foibles of human nature, closes
his great work with a grim supplication for heavenly forbearance.
1.7 LET US SUM UP
The study of prologue to Canterbury tales no doubt, proves father of

Chaucer's place as the father of English poetry. We get from him a lot of zest for life
and a refreshing enjoyment of all that is beautiful in nature and life. He is certainly among
the few greatest poets of the world.
1.8 LESSON – END ACTIVITIES:
1. Consider the prologue to the Canterbury Tales as a portrait gallery.

2. Discuss Chaucer as a satirist.
3. What are the significant aspects of Chaucer’s style in the prologue to the
Canterbury Tales.
1.9 REFERENCES
28
Burrow, J.A., Geoffrey Chaucer. England : Penguin Books Ltd., 1969

Coghill. Noville The Poet Chaucer. 1949 ; rpt. London : Home University
Library, 1964.
Daiches, David A Critical History of English Lift. 1960 ; rpt. London: Martin
Secker and Warburg Ltd., 1968. I.
Howard. J. Edwin Geoffrey Chaucer. London : The Macmillan Press Ltd., 1976.
Hussey, Maurice et al., An Introduction to Chaucer. 1965 : rpt. London : Cambridge
University Press, 1968.
Lamb, Sidney. Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales The Prologue. London : Coles
Publishing Company Ltd., 1967.
Skeat, W. Walter ed. Chaucer : The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, 3rd ed.
Rev. London: Oxford University Press. 1967.
Wyatt, A.J. Cd. Chaucer : The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. 1960 : rpt.
London : University Tutorial Press Ltd., 1968.
29
LESSON - 2
OLIVER GOLDSMITH
THE DESERTED VILLAGE
Contents
2.1 Introduction.
2.2 Goldsmith’s life & works.
2.3 Outline of the Poem the Deserted Village
2.4 STYLE & TECHNIQUE
2.5 Pathos in the Deserted Village
2.6 Goldsmith’s use of contrasts
2.7 Nature descriptions in the poem
2.8 The character of the village preacher
2.9 Let us Sum Up
2.10 Lesson – End Activities
2.11 References
This lesson is devoted for making you know about the Oliver
Goldsmith’s poem entitled “The Deserted Village”. After going through
this lesson you will have clear understanding of “The Deserted
Village”.
2.1 Introduction.
In a dedication of this poem to Sir Joshua Reynolds Dr.

Goldsmith says, 'I know you will object and indeed several of our
best and wisest friends concur in the opinion that the depopulation
it deplores is no where to be seen, and the disorders it laments are
only to be found in the poet's own imagination. To this I can scarce
make any other answer than that I sincerely believe what I have
written; that I have taken all possible pains, in my country
excursions, for these four or five years past, to be certain of what
I alledge, and that all my views and enquiries have led me to believe
those miseries real, which I here attempt to display.'
In the Deserted Village, the poet a son of the village, who

remembers it in its prosperous days, and who amid all his many
wanderings, hopes to return home at last, is represented as coming
back only to find sweet Auburn deserted and in ruins. He recalls the
simple merry rustic life, the celergyman, the school-master, the
30
village inn. He pictures the villages suffering the woes of exile in

an unkindly land; and he curses trade as causing the luxury that
produced this depopulation. The population of England was indeed
shifting at this time, but it was increasing. The economic aspect of
the poem, however, does not concern us. Nor yet does the precise
locality of Auburn matter much. Some maintain that it is England,
others in Ireland.
According to Macaulay, the picture in the poem “is made up of

incongruous parts. The village in its happy days is a true English
village. The village in its decay is an Irish Village. This
incongruity, if incongruity it be, was just reversed in Goldsmith’s
own mind. He distinctly says that the saw the depopulation in
England and maintains this in spite of contradiction. The Village in
its prosperity was in Ireland : it was lissoy, seen through the
medium of years of exile, and naturally appearing in a rosy light.
But it is not the topography of the poem that is important : it is
the melody of the verse, the simplicity, the natural scene-painting,
the sympathy with suffering men and women.
Goldsmith’s impersonal moralizing was in much of its

substance as conservative as his manner. His didactic
generalities were enclosed in regular couplets, and,
without being told.
Goldsmith’s dislike of commercialism is more
central in the Deserted Village. However nostalgic
fancy may have operated, his instinctive sympathy and
sentiment – not philosophic sentimentalism- gave the
picture a warmth and charm that won it immediate and
lasting popularity. In this poem the metrical
movement and the manner have exchanged much of their
gnomic stiffness and generality for a more natural
and varied ease, more concrete detail, and simpler
language.
The Deserted Village laments the onslaught of the Industrial
Revolution the village. With mills and factories arising on its farms
and fields/the natives are quitting it to seek ‘fresh woods and
pastures. The poet cannot but protest against a state of things’
31
where wealth accumulates, and men decay’ As the Village that met this
fate was the poet’s birth-place Lissoy in Ireland, called Auburn in
the poem, a note of melancholy homesickness runs throughout. Gating
features of the poem is its portraits of the prominent figures of the
village.
2.2 Goldsmith’s life & works.
Oliver Goldsmith (1728-74) was the son of an Irish clergyman.

After a desultory course of studies at home and in a number of
schools, he joined Trinity College, Dublin, as a sizar in 1774 and
graduated in 1749. In 1751 he presented himself for ordination as a
priest, but was rejected. He then studied medicine at Edinburgh and
at Leyden, and during 1755-56 wandered about France, Switzerland and
Italy, more or less in the manner of the Philosophic Vagabond,
described in The ViAcar of Wakefield. He returned to England in 1756,
completely destitute and started practice as a doctor in South wark,
London.
Goldsmith was an usher for a time at a scholl in Peckham, and

soon drifted into the occupation of a hack-writer. The first book
which brought him recognition was his Enquiry into the Present State
of Polite Learning, which was published in 1759. In the same year he
published his little periodical, The Bee, which contained the well-
known descriptive essay A City Night-Piece. He contributed to various
magazines. His Chinese letters, later published as The Citizen of the
World in 1762, were originally written for The Public Ledger, published
by John Newbery.
He made the acquaintance of Dr.Johnson in 1761 and one of the

original members of 'The Club'. His great novel The Vicar of Wakefield
was published in 1766, though the manuscript of the book was sold by
Dr.Johnson for Goldsmith in 1762 for £ 60. His poem The Traveller
appeared in 1764 and was welcomed by the public. He continued to do a
lot of hack-work for book-sellers, writing histories and biographies.
His first corned The Good natured Man was produced at Covent Garden
Theatre in 1768 and achieved a moderate success. His second comedy
She stoops to Conquer was played at Covent Garden in 1773 and was
tremendous success. In 1770 appeared The Deserted Village. Retaliation
was the last effort of his muse, a masterpiece of with and humour.
Because of his improvidence and unthinking generosity he remained in
32
poverty and want. He died in 1744. On the monument erected to his

memory in Westminister Abbey is engraved a Latin epitaph written by
Dr.Johnson stating that he adorned whatever he touched. It is a proof
of the high respect which the Doctor had for his worth and literary
abilities.
Goldsmith made a name in all that he attempted – poetry, novel,

drama essay. In poetry his two principal works are The Traveler and
The Deserted Village but the wrote shorter poems too, which include a
series of mock-epitaphs called Retaliation: a light satirical:
epistle. The Haunch of Venison, occasioned by Lord Glare’s Present of
venison to the poet: two mock-eleies, On that Glory of her Sex Mr.
Mary Blaize and On the Death of a Mad Dog: and the song ‘When lovely
woman stoops to folly’. Last two poems are contained in his novel,
The Vicar of Wakefield. ‘The Traveller, Which grew out of his’
wanderings on the Continent, gives an account of life in the happiest
spot’ on earth he comes to ‘the conclusion that though’ the sum of
human bliss (is) so small’, ‘an equal portion (is) dealt to: all
mankind’. The poem is written in easy graceful heroic couple.
2.3 Outline of the Poem the Deserted Village
The Author writes in the character of a native of a country

village, to which he gives the name of Auburn, and which he thus
pathetically addresses: as reflected in the opening stanzas. (Lines
1-56)
Sweet Auburn i s t h e loveliest village of the plain. Where

health and plenty cheer’d the labouring swain, where spring paid its
earliest visit, and parting summer’s lingering blooms delay’d. It is
exquisitely charming.
The Poem opens with an apostrophe to its subject: Sweet

Auburn, i s t h e loveliest village of the plain, where health and
plenty cheer ’ d t h e ‘labouring swain’; here smiling spring paid its
earliest visit, and parting summer’s lingering blooms delayed. This
place is the lovely bowers of innocence and ease, ‘Seats of my
youth’, when ‘every sport’ could please; The Poet had often loitered
in the green, Where humble happiness endear’d each scene. Many times
he had paused on every charm, such as ‘the sheltered cot’, ‘the
cultivated farm’ ‘The never-failing brook’, the busy mill, The
33
decent church, that topt the neighb’ring hill.
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, was suitable,
for the whispering lovers. How often have I blest the coming day,
All the village when free from labour ‘led up their sports beneath
the spreading tree; While many a pastime circled in the shad’,, The
young contended while the old surveyed; ‘And many a gambol frolicked
o’er the ground’, ‘There were scenes of flights of art and feats of
strength’. As e a c h repeated pleasure tired, succeeding sports
inspired the mirthful band. The dancing pair, that simply sought
renown by holding out to tire each other down; ‘The swain mistrust
less of his smutted face’.
While secret laughter tittered round the place; The matron’s

glance reproved ‘The bashful virgin’s side-long looks of love’,
These were thy charms sweet village; sports like these with sweet
succession taught e’en toil to please; These ro u n d t h y bowers thy
cheerful influence shed, These were thy charms—But all these charms
are fled.
The village diversions are insisted on with too much

prolixity. They are described first with a generality and redundance,
they are sports, and pastimes, and gambols, and flights of art, and
feats of strength; and they are represented sometimes as passive, the
‘sports are led up;’ sometimes as active, the ‘pastimes circle,’ and
the gambols ‘frolick,’ and the ‘flights and feats go round.’ But we
are perhaps fully recom-pensed for this, by the classical and
beautiful particularity and con-ciseness of the context, ‘the dancing
pair,’ ‘the swain mistmstless of his smutted face,’ the ‘bashful
virgin’s looks.
In the Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, The sports

are fled, and all its charms are with-drawn; Amidst the beowers the
tyrant’s hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green; One only
master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling
plain; The glassy brook no more reflects the day, but is choked with
sedges and works its weedy way. Along the glades a solitary guest,
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Amidst thy desert walks
the lapwing flies, and tires their echoes with repeated cries. Sunk
are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o’er tops
the mould’ring
wall, And trembling, shrinking, from the spoiler’s
34
hand, Far, far away thy children leave the land.
‘Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey’, where wealth

accumulates, and men decay; Princes and lords may flourish, or may
fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a hold
peasantry, their country’s pride, When once destroy’d can never be
supply’d.
A time there was, e’re England’s griefs
began,
When every rood of ground maintain’d its man; For him light
labour spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life requir’d but
gave no more: His best companions innocence and health, And his best
riches ignorance of wealth.
The first of these paragraphs, ‘III fares the land, with all
its merit, which is great, for the sentiment is noble. The affair of
depopulation had been more fully described, and is followed by a
concluding reflection. The second asserts what has been repeatedly
denied, that ‘there was a time in England, when every rood of ground
maintained its man.’ If however such a time ever was, it could not be
so recent as when the Deserted Village was flourishing, a
circumstance supposed to exist within the remembrance of the poet;
But now times had changed and Usurped the land, and
dispossessed the swain;
Along the lawn, where t h e r e w e r e scatter’d hamlets Unwieldy

wealth, and clumb’rous pomp rested;
And every want to opulence allied,
And every pang that folly pays to pride.
Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom,
Those calm desires that ask’d but little room,
Those healthful sports that grac’d the peaceful scene,
Liv’d in each look, and brighten ‘d all the green;
These far-departing, seek a kinder shore,
And rural mirth and manners are no more.
35
The forlorn glades confess the tyrant’s power. In the poet’s

solitary rounds, amidst his thy tangling walks, and ruin’d grounds,
after many years he returns to view, “where once the cottage stood
the hawthorn grew,With doubtful, pensive steps he wanders and traces
every scene, and wonders at the change.
The Matron gathering water-cresses, is a fine picture; Sudden

calamity occasions violent emotions, but habitual hardship does not
produce incessant sorrow; as t i m e r e c o n c i l e s her to the most
disagreeable situations. After mentioning the general privation of
the ‘bloomy flush of life,’ the exceptionary, ‘all but,’ includes, as
part of that ‘bloomy flush,’ an ‘aged decrepid matron; that is to
say, in plain prose, ‘the bloomy flush of life is all fled but one
old woman.’
“The Poet now recurs again to the past. When Auburn is

described as flourishing, its Clergyman as a principal inhabitant, is
very properly introduced. This supposed Village Pastor, is
characterized in a manner which seems almost unexceptionable, both
for sentiment and expres-sion. His contentment, hospitality, and
piety, are pointed out with sufficient particularity”
The village preacher was, to all the country dear, And passing
rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly
race, never had chang’d, nor wish’d to change his place. T h e
benevolent mind cannot but yield its hearty assent to this beautiful
oblique reprehension of that avarice which makes the crimes and
errors of the poor, a pretence to justify the indulgence of its own
parsimony. A t church with meek and unaffected grace, His looks
adorne’d the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevaile’d with
double sway, and fools who came to scoff, remaine’d to pray . . .
Poetry attains its full purpose, when it sets its subjects

strongly and distinctly in our view. The good old man attended by his
venerating parishioners, and with a kind of dignified complacence,
even permits the familiarities of their children. As every parish has
its Clergyman, almost every parish has its School-master. T h i s
secondary character is here described with great force and precision.
The Muse, in part of her description, has descended to convey village
ideas, in village language, but has contrived to give just so much
dignity to the familiar.
The portraits of the village preacher and the village master
36
have become memorable pieces and are remembered for their simplicity
and sympathy. The village preacher was dear to all the country, and
passing rich with forty pounds a year. Remote from towns he ran his
godly race. He did not fawn, or seek for power. In arguing too, the
parson owned his skill. For even though ‘ Vanquished, he could argue
still. While words of learned length and thundering sound. Amaz’d the
gazing rustics rang’d around. And still they gaz’d and still the
wonder grew. That are small head could carry all he knew.
The rest of the poem consists of the character of the village

schoolmaster, and a description of the village alehouse, both drawn
with admirable propriety and force; a descant on the mischiefs of
luxury and wealth, the variety of artificial pleasures, the miseries
of those, who, for want of employment at home, are driven to settle
new colonies abroad, and the following beautiful apostrophe to
Poetry. Having enumerated the domestic virtues which are leaving the
country with the inhabitants of his deserted village.
“Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With

blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion,
skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school; A man
severe he was, and stern to view”, The Poet knew him well, and every
truant knew; the boding tremblers learned to trace th e d a y ' s
disasters in his morning face; Full well they lau g h ' d w i t h
counterfeited glee, at all his jokes, for he had many a joke. The
busy whisper went circling round, conveying the dismal tidings when
he frown'd; Yet he was kind, or if severe in anything, The love he
bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he
knew; it was certain that he could write and cypher too; Lands he
could measure, terms and tides presage, And even the story ran that
he could gauge . . .1
This is a very elegant poem, written with great pains, yet

bearing every possible mark of facility; the description of a country
school-master, and a village alehouse is particularly picturesque.
This is followed by description of the Village Alehouse. Near

yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post
caught the passing eye; Low lies that house, where nut-brown draughts
inspired, Where grey-beard mirth, and smiling toil retired . . .
Words like ‘Thither no more,’ adds a kind of pleasing regretful

pathos:
37
Vain transitory splendors ! could not all Reprieve the

tottering mansion from its fall ! Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more
impart an hour’s importance to the poor man’s heart . . .
His is not poetical fiction, but historical truth. The real

country, with the men who actually drive the plough, or wield the
scythe, the sickle, the hammer, or the hedging bill are presented.
The Deserted Village, as has been hinted, is, on the whole, a
performance of great merits which has numerous excellencies.
2.4 STYLE & TECHNIQUE
Goldsmith's Deserted Village, is a performance of

distinguished merit. The general idea it inculcates is this; that
commerce, by an enormous introduction of wealth, has augmented the
number of the rich. The picturesque imagery, and the interesting
sentiment, are conveyed in melodious and regularly measured
language.
In this extract there is a strain of poetry very different from

the quaint phrase, and forced construction, into which our
fashionable bards are distorting prose; yet it may be remarked, that
our pity is here principally excited for what cannot suffer, for a
brook that is choked with sedges, a glade that is become the solitary
haunt of the bitter, a walk deserted to the lapwing, and a wall that
is half hidden by grass.
As the poet contemplates the ruins of the village magnificent

or beautiful ins series highlights the tender and mournful pleasure
from this fanciful association of ideas. He proceeds to contrast the
innocence and happiness of a simple and natural state, with the
miseries and vices that have been introduced by polished life in
lines 57-74. This is fine painting and fine poetry.
Commenting on repetition the word ‘bowers,’ occurs twice, the

word ‘sweet,’ thrice, and ‘charms,’ and ‘sport,’ singular or plural,
four times. We have also ‘toil remitting,’ and ‘toil taught to
please,’ ‘succeeding sports,’ and ‘sports with sweet succes-sion.’
There is a repetition which indicates intention, and maintains
regularity; and there is a repetition which discovers either
carelessness, or poverty of language. Auburn had before, been termed
‘sweet,’ and ‘The loveliest village of the plain-’ it is now termed
38
‘sweet’ and ‘smiling,’ and ‘the loveliest of the lawn.’ We had been
told, in line 34. that ‘all its charms were fled and we are now told
that ‘its sports are fled, and its charms withdrawn.’ The ‘tyrant’s
hand,’ seems mentioned rather too abruptly; and ‘desolation saddening
the green’ is common place phraseology. The eight lines, ‘No more the
glassy brook’ are natural and beautiful; but the next two, ‘And
trembling, shrinking, introduce the subject of emigration.
The adjective ‘sweet,’ is frequently repeated. The obscure and

indefinite idea of a ‘Tyrant,’ also recurs. There is pathos in the
lines, ‘And many a year, we wish to hear more of the Village in its
prosperity, before we hear so much of its desolation. It abounds
with precepts of the soundest policy, the shrewdest remarks on human
character, descriptions of local scenery as rich and as appropriate
as any thing that ever came from the pen of Shakespeare or the pencil
of Claude; and, for plaintive melody of versification, and pathetic
appeals to the heart, It stands perhaps unrivalled.
It overflows with charms for every laudable variety of taste,

and for each degree of understanding. To its matter, and the
harmonious numbers in which it is conveyed, there exists something
responsive in every bosom: no preparative erudition is required to
make it intelligible, nor any comment wanting to indicate their
beauties; The construction of which, however beautiful, is scarcely
ever adverted to by the multitudes who are enraptured with the images
which they present to the mind.
Nothing of its kind can be more finished than the picture of

the village-clergyman: but the simile employed to illustrate the
poet’s account of his strict performance of the pastoral office, the
affection he feels for his people, and the persevering piety by which
he wins them to paths of holiness and peace, if not matchless, has
never been excelled:
In support of this remark, the following few passages are

cited from the Deserted Village;
‘And as a bird each fond endearment tries. To tempt its new-

fledg’d offspring to the skies, he try’d each art, reprov’d each
dull delay, Allur’d to brighter worlds, and led the way.’ If this
idea can be equalled by another, in any language, ancient or modern,
it is by that with which the portrait concludes: ‘To them his heart,
his love, his griefs were giv’n; But all his serious thoughts had
39
rest in heav’n. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells
from the vale, and mid-way leaves the storm, Though’ round its breast
the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.’
The lofty idea of the function of poetry, sweet poetry, that

loveliest mind makes us ask where another poem comparable to it in
exquisitely chiseled magery, in white-heat struck out phrases, in
elegance in elegance of diction, and softness of numbers. We
reluctantly leave a poem which is so arrayed in nature’s simplest
charms as to stir the fountains of those early, deep remembrances
that turn all pur past to pain. The amotional technique of the whole
poem is explained by this couplet:
The Deserted Village ends with an address to Poetry, not only

affecting for the solemnity of its personal allusion, and pleasing to
the reader for the smooth current of its versification, but
remarkable as displaying the virtuous enthusiasm of Goldsmith, and a
generous declaration of what was his notion concerning a poet’s duty,
and the influence of his art on mankind: . . .
Goldsmith’s Deserted Village necessarily delighted every one at

that grade of cultivation, in that sphere of thought. Not as living
and active, but as a departed, vanished existence was described, all
that one so readily looked upon, that one loved, prized, sought
passionately in the present, t here is a peculiar charm about the
poetry of Goldsmith. It is due not a little to the personal quality of
his writing. With perfect justice he is described as one of the most
subjective of English writers.
2.5 Pathos in the Deserted Village
Goldsmith was always a champion of the poor and

the downtrodden. His heart overflowed with pity for
suffering humanity. There is nothing for which he
cursed himself so much as for his inability to help
the miserable people around him. In The Deserted
Village we find him in numerous places referring to
the woes that poor people have to suffer at the hands
of the woes that poor people have to suffer at the
40
hands of the callous rich. The poor are no longer

wanted in the country. The humble peasants are
driven away from the soil which has sustained them
for generations, to face the horrors of a new
country.
The Deserted Village given us also a glimpse

into the poet’s heart, revealing to us his intense
passion for poetry. At the end of the poem, in a
voice quivering with emotion, he confesses that it is
poetry that has sustained him through a life of care.
More than the normal share of sorrows has fallen to
his lot. If he has not been crushed by their weight,
he owes it only to his love of the Muse. With the
solace that poetry can offer him, he knows he need
never despair.
Some may be tempted to judge of Goldsmith’s

character rather harshly because, in hid eagerness to
defend the poor, he is too stern in his condemnation
of the rich. Thoroughly ignorant of the economic
conditions of the times, he ascribes the depopulation
of the village, to the accumulation of wealth and the
baneful passion for luxury among the rich. It has
been pointed out that the misery and depopulation he
laments are more imaginary than real. Goldsmith,
however, should not be misunderstood on this point.
He sincerely believed in what he wrote and was quite
convinced that the reasons for the misery of the
people were what he represented them to be.
41
Whatever his faults, Goldsmith is seen in this

poem as an extraordinarily lovable character. We see
him here in all the pathos of his life. His
sufferings have lent a sweetness and grandeur to his
personality. His infinite love for humanity
enshrines him in the hearts of all readers. No one
can read through the poem without knowing the author
and loving him.
2.6 Goldsmith’s use of contrasts
It is well recognized that an effective us of

contrast always contributes to the fascination of a
poem. Goldsmith realised this very well, and has
abundantly used this device in many of his poems.
That Deserted Village stands out prominently among
his works in this respect because Goldsmith has
exploited to the fullest extent all the beauty that
the use of contrasts can confer on a poem.
Though the main contract in the poem is between

Anburn in the days of its glory and Anburn in
desolation there are a number of other picturesque
and beautifully contrasted details. Goldsmith speaks
of a time in England when every man in the land had a
small estate which he could cultivate for his own
sustenance. Those times are gone and the rich
landlords with the passion for grabbing everything
they can lay their hands on, buy up all the land in
42
order to convert it into a beautiful park or pleasure

garden.
Another interesting contrast which is suggested

and maintained throughout the poem, is the
conventional antithesis between city and rural life.
In the case of Goldsmith, this was not a mere poetic
convention. The earlier years of his life had been
spent in a beautiful little village, and long absence
from it had idealised it and enshrined it in his
heart. From personal experience in later life, he
knew the misery and the sickening horrors of city
life.
The contrast therefore is remarkably vivid.

Goldsmith paints all the charms of rural life and
contrasts these with the loathsomeness and ugliness
of existence in a city. In a passage which burns
with earnestness and overflows with the very essence
of poetry, he tells us that many of the adventurers
from the village would have been far more happy, if
they had never left their homes in search of fortunes
in the city. He speaks of the misery of young women,
who were tempted out of their homes to enter the
wickedness of life in a city. He pictures their
misery after they have been betrayed, and contrasts
this with the joyous and beautiful life they might
have led, if they had stayed on in their own homes.
Many more instances of the effective use of

contrasts can be cited, for the poem is filled to
43
repletion with them. These, however, are the more

important of the contrasted pictures, and they can
serve to illustrate the excellent use to which the
poet has put them.
2.7 Nature descriptions in the poem

The eighteenth century in English poetry has
acquired a sort of notoriety for the poverty of its
Nature description. No neo-classic poet seemed
capable of drinking in the pure and fresh joy of
Nature. All the poets of the time contented
themselves with descriptions of urban beauties and
amenities. Poetry seened to have left the meadows and
the hills and taken shelter in the stuffy atmosphere
of a drawing room or coffee house. Where Nature
poetry was attempted on rare occasions, it was an
extremely conventional kind. There was no joyous
impulse emanating from a genuine passion for what is
beautiful and fascinating a Nature. The greatest
poets of the time were content to sing the pleasures
of city life. If Nature description became necessary,
they just employed a few conventional poetic phrases
to picture a lovely but artificial Arcadia, entirely
remote from ordinary life.
Goldsmith, though he belongs to this school of

poets, often strikes out a new path for himself. In
the main his Nature descriptions too are
conventional. Oftentimes, one may be inclined to
accuse him of employing cold and conventional phrases
44
to describe the ever-changing beauty of Nature. In

The Deserted Village, however, the poet has largely
succeeded in giving us pictures which are real and
living. The rural paradise that he portrays in sweet
Auburn, is not at all like the conventional Arcadia
described by the poets of the time. It is a picture
of a real village, though it has been considerably
idealized. For purposes of poetic effect, the beauty
has been willfully exaggerated, but there is nothing
fundamentally false about it. In spite of the
exaggerations, it rings true.
The descriptions of Nature in this poem, though

conventional in the main are oftentimes remarkably
beautiful. Goldsmith felt all that he said, and if
sometimes he is wrong, he has at least the excuse
that he is never insincere. Nature of course is not
presented on its awful and impressive moods. Nature,
as it might be seen in a real village, is described
vividly enough. Goldsmith must have been a shrewd
observer, for he is often able to give a beautiful
and complete picture. In may be said that no other
poem of the age, with the exception of Gray’s Elegy
in a County Churchyard, has given such a lovely and
realistic account of Nature in the countryside.
2.8 The character of the village preacher
The description of the parish priest would have done honour to

any poet of any age: . [lines 137-92]. The preacher is a composite
portrait based on the poet’s father brother Henry Uncle. The death of
Goldsmith’s beloved brother stirring him to the depths of his being,
urged him to compose the poem.
The village preacher is a compound of manifold virtues. The
45
preacher makes Christian virtue appear worth striving for. He is a

portrait of complete humanitarianism. He was dear to all the country
and reasonably well -off by contemporary standards his life style was
austere. Remote from towns he ran his godly race and never had
changed nor wished to change his place. He was not used to fawn or
seek power . His doctrines were most suitable for his time.
The preacher’s teachings were so shaped as not to offend

influential church- goers by drawing attention to the abuses
prevailing among them. He held other aims as precious and skilled to
“raise the wretched”. His house was known to all the ‘vagrant train’
the endless procession of beggars whom he checked from aimless
wanderings and relieved their pain “the long remembered beggar was is
guest. “The ruined spendthrift” now no long a proud was one among his
kindred. The broken soldier disabled by wounds and therefore
condemned to penury, was bid to stay and sit by his fire and talk all
through the night about his wounds are tales of sorrow, and the
battles that were won.
The village preacher was pleased with his guests and was
thrilled listening indulgently to them.
“He quite forgot their vices in their woe,
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pitty gave ere charity began”
The parson’s heart went out to the poor man at once and then
his hand went into his pocket, “thus to relieve the wretched was his
pride” . By helping all indiscriminately he may have been unwittingly
encouraging laziness, imposture. This would be a defect Another would
be his conniving at the spendthrift’s lie and his giving away more
than his income. But these foibles were misguided virtue and hardly
blameworthy.
The parson is compared to a knight fighting stoutly on the

dying man’s side. When the church service was over. The villagers
eagerly danced attendance on him. The children used to pluck his
sleeve to make him turn round and to catch his eye. The parson was
not so occupied with spiritual contemplation as to forget the earthly
needs and hardships of men; nor was he worldly and forgetful of
ultimate spiritual ends. His feet were firmly planted firmly among-
practical concerns, while he was basking in the sunshine and serenity
of celestial visions. The broad-based mountain is so high that the
46
rough winds of the upper atmosphere sweep round the middle of it and
the parson’s piety was equally lofty. Trembling pupils filled with
anticipations of punishment, when they did something wrong from his
cheerful or sullen look when school assembled, the pupils could
predict whether the day would be full of misfortunes or without them
a very natural touch like the others in this portrait. A
schoolmaster’s jokes are often dull, but his pupils laugh just to
please him. His warning was slyly and quickly circulated. The simile
of the bird teaching her young to fly, and of the mountain that rises
above the storm, are not easily to be paralleled, and yet the
construction of the last is not perfect. As, in the first verse,
requires so, in the third, either expressed or implied: at present
the construction is, 'As some cliff swells from, the vale, sunshine
settles upon its head, though clouds obscure its breast.'
2.9 Let us Sum Up
The objects of a village-evening, which affect the mind of a

susceptible observer, are very warmly and beautifully described. The
character of the worthy parish priest of the village is a master-
piece; it makes a sacred and most forcible appeal to the best
feelings of the human heart. Goldsmith deserves the highest applause
for employing his poetical talents in the support of humanity and
virtue, in an age when sentimental instruction will have more
powerful influence upon our conduct than any other; when abstruse
systems of morality, and dry exhortations from the pulpit, if
attended to for a while, make no durable impression.
2.10 Lesson – End Activities:-
1. Comment on the style and technique of the Deserted Village.
2. What is the role of the Village’s School Master?
3. What are the memorable features of the Auburn Village?
2.11 References
· Baugh, Albert C. ed. A Literary History of England Vol. II.

London : Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd., 1967.
· Legouis, Emile et. al., A History of English Literature.

London : J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd., 1926 rpt., 1965.
· Hudson, William Henry Outline History of English

Literature. 1961 : rpt. Bell & Hyman Ltd., 1988.
47
· Saintsbury, George A short History of English

Literature. 1898; rpt. London : Macmillan & Co.
Ltd., 1960.
· Rpissaeau, G.S. Goldsmith: The Critical Heritage London,
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974.
48
LESSON 3
JOHN MILTON
PARADISE LOST
Contents
3.1 Introduction.
3.2 Milton’s life and works
3.3 The theme of paradise lost
3.4 out line of paradise lost
3.5 general characteristics of milton’s poetry
3.6 style and versification
3.7 Characteristic features of an epic
3.8 Paradises lost as an epic
3.9 Character of satan
3.10 Let us sum up
3.11 Lesson – end activities
3.12 References
This lesson will through a light on John Milton’s Paradise Lost

besides explaining the life and various works of Milton. You will
acquire, after reading this lesson the theme and outline of Paradise
Lost, General Characteristics, Style and Verification of Milton
Poetry.
3.1 Introduction.
The England of Milton and Bunyan was born on

December 9, 1608, at Black Spread Eagle Court, in
Bread Street. Thus was Puritanism nourished in the
very bosom of the Renaissance. Puritanism began with
Ben Johnson, though it found its greatest poetical
49
exponent in Milton, its greatest; prose exponent in

Bunyan.
Two influences contributed especially to the

moulding of the England now under consideration. The
first is the influence of the great dramatists and
the second influence is that of the Bible. The
Scriptures, hitherto reserved for the select few, are
now spread broadcast for men and women to con-sider
_and expound for themselves. Anyone who wished to “
purify “ the usages of the church was called a
Puritan.
Puritanism turned Mil-ton’s thoughts from such

subjects as the Arthurian Legend. His epic genius
found perfect expression in the Biblical story of the
Fall of Man. Nothing is more char-acteristic of the
poet than the arduous mental development he
deliberately set before himself in order to grapple
with his task. The earlier years of his life were
spent in hard study and preparation ; then for a
while he plunged into fierce political con-troversy
in the cause of civil and religious liberty ;
finally, in the last years of his life he gave us, as
the fruit of his mature genius, Paradise Lost,
Paradise Regained, and Samson Agonistes.
Possessing a sense of beauty, as keen though

less unrestrained than that possessed by the
Elizabethans, Milton’s devotion to form and coherence
separates him from the great Romantics, and gives to
the beauty of his verse a delicacy and gravity all
its own. Nowhere is this quality of beauty better
50
displayed than in the early poems, in L’Allegro,

Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas. They have all the
freshness and charm of youth, and exhibit tho lighter
and more fanciful side of Milton’s genius.
With this sense of beauty is combined a

stateliness of manner which gives a high dignity to
Milton’s poetry, that has never been surpassed, and
rarely equalled in our literature.Milton “strengthens
blank verse without cramping it; he gives it grace,
and rounds off with finished care the single line
without ever sacrificing the organic unity of the
entire poem. He is like a great organist who, while
never losing sight of the original melody, adorns it
with every conceivable variation which serves to
exhibit, in place of obscuring, the freshness and
sweetness of the simple theme”.
3.2 Milton’s Life and Works
Milton was born on December 9, 1608 at Black

spread Eagle Court, in the Bread Street. In 1641
Milton married Mary Powell, the seven-teen-year-old
daughter of a Cavalier gentleman residing in
Oxford shire. This marriage was not a happy one
from the first ; the change from a life of youthful
gaiety to that of the companionship of an austero
Puritan student so many years her senior was not
congenial to this young girl, and on visiting her
father’s house shortly after their marriage she
refused to rejoin her husband. Milton, was
pursuing divorce however, in 1645 a reconciliation,
took place, and seven years later his wife died,
51
leaving him with three small daughters. In 1656

he married Katharine Woodcock, who died the
following year. His third wife, Elizabeth
Minshull, chosen for him by his friend Dr. Paget, was
but twenty-five when she linked her life with that of
the blind poet in 1663, and lived for fifty-three
years after his death.
In 1645 Milton found a more spacious dwelling in

Barbican, which two years later he leaves for a small
house in High Holborn, near Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
During the whole of tho period from 1639 to 1649 he
devoted himself almost entirely to politics, and what
he believed to be the call of duty to his country.
Then, in 1649, came the offer of the Latin
Secretaryship.
Milton’s chief duty was to translate foreign

despatches into “ dignified Latin.” At first
he had rooms in Whitehall, but subsequently moved to
another “ pretty garden house “in West-minster. This
house became No. 19 York Street, and is associated
also with the names of Bentham, , James Mill, and
Hazlitt. It no longer exists, having been
demolished in 1877. Blindness made his duties
difficult, and rendered assistance imperative. Among
those who helped him in the discharge of his duties
was Andrew Marvell. Milton served through the
Protectorate.
At the Restoration he was arrested, but

subse-quently released on “ paying his fees.” He
lived quietly and frugally at Artillery Walk, Bunhill
52
Fields—blind, infirm, and weary, but unchanged in

resolution formed years before. The resolution found
expression in Paradise. Lost, begun in 1638, finished
in 1604, and published three years later. Milton was
offered by his publisher the munificent sum of “ five
pounds down, five pounds more upon the sale of each
of the first three editions.” Ten pounds in all
came into the poet’s hands in 1669. After his
death the copyright was sold by his, widow
for about eight pounds more.
Paradise Regained was published also the same

year. Among his many other works may be mentioned
those relating to The Doctrine and Discipline of
Divorce, 1643 ; The Four Chief Places of Scripture
which treat of Marriage, 1645 ; in 1644, his great
prose work, A Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed
Print-ing : previous to this, while living at Horton,
near Windsor, he wrote L’Allegro and II Penseroso,
1632; Arcades, 1633; Comus, 1634; and Lycidas, 1637.
In addition to hia blindness he suffered from chronic
gout. After months of ill-health, “ the gout struck
in.” He died on November 8, 1674, and lies buried in
St. Giles’, Cripplegate, beside his father.
3.3 THE THEME OF PARADISE LOST
The problem of Evil is handled in Paradise Lost

in traditional Christian terms. God has created some
men and angles free to choose or not to choose his
service. When they do choose, they choose what is
also their own highest good; when they do not they
choose something less and anything less is evil.
53
For evil in Christian thought lacks positive

existence; it is simply a falling below the highest
good. This is what Milton’s Satan and other rebels
have done. They to turn away from God’s will, their
highest good, to seek their own will, a lesser good.
Satan and his followers have forgotten that

they’re only creatures and aspiring to rule they
tried to become like God. Inevitably they land up in
hell because what they have done is precisely, in a
spiritual sense, the Christian definition of hell.
The preference of one’s own will to God’s.
Inevitably, too, their own will does not prevail.
The only change is that now they serve God’s purposes
involuntary instead of freely.
One thing, however they can do, and that is to

seduce some other creature who enjoys the liberty of
choosing between God’s will and his own to choose the
latter and join them in their ruin. Hence they set
to work on man.
Even here the triumph is short lived, for

though they can make man fall, God, to defeat and
disappoint the frustrates them by Himself becoming a
man who does not fall but rise. The sin of Adam,
with the inheritance of evil is made good by Christ,
who, though he is tempted like Adam, resists and
though he dies like Adam is resurrected.
Paradise Lost proves that inspite of Adam’s

fall man can still be saved by Christ. The original
temptation in the Garden to includes the whole of
human history till the day of Judgement.
54
3.4 OUT LINE OF PARADISE LOST
Milton is conscious of his more important

subject, man’s disobedience to God, and his more
noble purpose, to justify the ways of God to man.
The subject of Paradise Lost is announced at the
beginning of Book I; it is “Man’s first disobedience”
and the consequent loss of Paradise. In the first
twenty-six lines Milton states his whole subject
matter and asks the aid of the heavenly Muse, who
gave Moses the Ten Commandments and inspired him,
Milton thought, to write part of the Old Testament.
Milton’s subject is man’s disobedience to God and the
consequent loss of Eden. It is man’s first
disobedience, implying that others are to come, and
it is a serious wrong, because it is disobedience to
God’s command.
Milton invokes his heavenly Muse, the

same Holy Spirit that gave Moses the Ten Commandments
on Mt. Sinai, to help him rise above pagan epic poets
of the past and justify the ways of God to man. The
prime cause of man’s fall is Satan, formerly an
angel, whose pride caused him to war against god and
to be thrown out of Heaven and whose envy of man and
desire for revenge on God caused him to deceive Eve
and help bring about the fall of Adam and Eve.
Having stated his subject quickly,

Milton follows the classical epic formula of
beginning in what he calls “the midst of things” and
turns our attention immediately to Satan, who is
55
pictured soon after he has been thrown out of Heaven

with the other rebel angels because of his revolt
against God. Milton knows that evil is attractive
and, Satan the fallen angel, still has some of the
qualities and virtues of Heaven, except that they
have all been perverted. Most of what he says are
lies, a fact which a good Christian reader of
Milton’s era should be have known, but which
frequently deceives the modern reader. God h a s
created Satan, but Satan has revolted against his
creator, and hence cut himself off from God; before
he revolted he exercised free will; now he acts only
by God’s permission (210 – 220)
Satan is seen just after he his fellow

rebel angels have been hurled down into Hell, a place
of fiery torment but no light. Chained on the
burning lake, he speaks to his next highest comrade,
Beelzebub, lying beside him. Satan is struck by the
horrible changes is Beelzebub’s appearance caused by
the Fall, but he still defies God and refuses to
repent. He even claims to have shaken the throne of
God, which we find out later is a lie. (I, 105; VI,
834; VII, 585-586). He refuses to serve God, whom he
calls a tyrant. But while he boasts in this way, the
poet says, he is inwardly tortured by his own
despair.
Beelzebub asks Satan what they should

do against God’s all-powerful force, and Satan
answers proudly that they should be do everything
within their ability to pervert God’s will. Having
been permitted by God to “Heap on himself damnation,”
56
and having been allowed to move, Satan flies by means

of his wings from the burning lake to plain,
believing he is doing so on his own power. Surveying
the doleful surroundings, Satan decides it is “Better
to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.” Although the
other fallen angels lie “groveling and prostrate” on
the lake of fire, Satan calls them to arms,
addressing them by their angelic titles. They come,
looking like the biblical plague of locusts.
Among them are Moloch, who later became

a pagan god to whom children were sacrificed, and
other heathen gods and goddesses such as Astarte,
Orus, Dagon, Isis and Osiris. Belial, a lewd and
grossly sensual devil, is last among them. Satan
rallies them with high sounding words and they appear
to be a large and glorious army. Satan feels a huge
pride in his troops of demons, which makes him forget
for the moment of despair, he addresses, them,
calling them to war, if not against, God, then
against God’s new creation, man.
A council of war should be called, he says.

They respond with a shout of defiance against God.
Mammon then leads a group of fallen angels to dig
into a volcanic hill for molten metal and erect
suddenly and by magic what looks like a temple, but
is really Pandemonium, the capitol of Hell, designed
by the demonic architect, Mulciber. With their
rustling wings the devils appear from a distance to
be like a swarm of bees as they go into Pandemonium
to consult over the method of war against God.
57
3.5 General Characteristics of Milton’s Poetry
The supreme quality of Milton’s poetry is

sublimity which is characterised by dignity and
stateliness. His poetry exercises an elevating
influence on the mind of the reader. The subject
matter is sublime dealing with God, Satan and other
serious themes. In Comus he presents sublime
thoughts concerning virtue. In Paradise Lost and
Paradise Regained he has dealt with sublime themes on
God and religion. The chief characteristic features
of Milton’s poetry is his profound love of beauty.
He is deeply sensitive to the beauty of eternal
nature. With this sense of beauty, is combined a
stateliness of manner which gives a high dignity to
his poetry. The poet never stoops down at any stage
just to satisfy the tastes of the lower public.
The subject that he chooses for his composition

are stately. The treatment that he gives them equally
in conformity with the subject matter common objects
doubt form the subject matter common objects do not
form the subject of his poetry. His themes are far
removed from the trivialities of life. The problems
are of external interest and his genius can find full
scope in dealing with grand themes, such as the
problem of man, the redemption of humanity by Christ
and of the way of God to man.
M i l t o n w r ites as a conscientious artist.

‘Poetry has been by far are the greatest artistic
achievement and Milton is by far the greatest poetic
artist.
58
Milton’s imagination is noteworthy. Only a man

of Milton’s imagination create could have a world of
heaven and hell which could be been possibly only by
his imagination. He soars above time and space.
Milton’s poetry proves his suggestive power.
Lander is of the opinion that Milton is the

noblest specimen in the world of eloquence, harmony,
and genius. Arnold thinks that Milton’s blank verse
is the flawless perfection of rhythm and diction.
In loftiness of thought, splendour and dignity of
expression and rhythmic felicities, Milton has peers
but no superior.
3.6 Style and Versification
Paradise Lost is a poetic rendering of the

story of the fall of man No epic poet was a master
of such a variety of styles as Milton, and the
variety with which he could use the English heroic
verse without rhyme. The variety controlled by the
steady persistent momentum of his paragraph, the
means of sound, and the refines of temper above all,
that sense of fidelity, to an immediate experience
which occasionally springs to action in scientific
things are done so effortlessly and aptly. Clarity,
force, and simplicity are some of the characteristics
of his poetry. The diction, the prosody and the
syntax, the subtle cooperation of the meaning and
music are all of them tokens of an underlying
permanence. The seven of the grand style as C.S.
Lewis puts it, of Great there is no where better
59
momentum which is no were better displayed than in

the stately progress of Milton’s more immemorable
similies.
“Paradise Lost” says Dr. Johnson is a poem when

considered with respect to design, may cla i m t h e
first place, and with respect to performance, the
second among the productions of the human mind.”
These characteristic features raise Miltonts great
height.
The use of Rhythm visual imagination and form,

are three note worthy characteristics Milton’s
continuous effort at the sublime, the exceptional
vivid pictures fill his poetry.
The placing of the pauses, the rise and fall of

the emotion, the high emotional charge in which the
poet’s sense of dedication and of communion with the
great biblical figures of the old testament is
communicated, the supplecatory cadence of the appeal
to have his darkness illumined and his mind elevated
and the fine, powerful simplicity of the concluding
statement of his purpose – all these represent poetic
art of high order.
The devices which Milton uses for sustaining

the flow of his great opening passage are worth
careful examination. It begins emphatically with
simplicity, and amplitude of man’s to I disobedience.
Which is developed, extended, modified, qualified,
reconsidered in a great variety of ways, by the
subordination of clauses, and the adroit use of
conjunctions, prepositions and relative pronouns him
60
to place the object of this opening sentence, the

theme of the poem, which most at the beginning, the
main verb does not come until the sixth line and when
it does come it rings out the tremendous emphasis.
Sing, heavenly music.
Milton’s similies are heroic. He uses them to

illustrate a familiar, universally accepted system of
facts which external and prior to the mode of
presentation. The thing said is not changed by the
way of saying it, though when Milton has said what he
intends to say, it is difficult to think of its being
said better.
Milton’s similies are sometimes digressive.

This device, characteristically Homeric is used very
specifically by Milton. Moreover when he introduces
such similies, they usually serve to accentuate by
contrast the superhuman grandeur of the events.
The simile of the ‘Angels thick as autumnal

leaves’ follows an epic description of Satan’s spear
and shield. When the audience at the infernal
council are compared to elves, the reader is better
convinced of the stature of “the great seraphic lords
and cherubim” huge “in their own dimensions like
themselves. This tendency to heroic aggrandizement
of the fallen angels is further straightened by
Milton’s spacing the use of ‘Lowely imaging and by
the comparative form of many of his similies”. What
of was thought but never so well expressed perhaps
the nine words that can be said of paradise lost.
Paradise lost is a rich, profound and matured
61
epic. It is a rendering of the story of fall

illuminating some of the central paradoxes of the
human situation and the tragic ambiguity of man as a
moral being. No epic poet was a master of such a
variety of styles as Milton and the variety with
which he could use English heroic verse without
rhyme.
Paradise lost shows Milton as a Christian

humanist using all the resources of the European
literary tradition, that came down to him Biblical,
classical, medival, Renaissance, pagan, jewish and
Christian. Imagery from classical fable, and
medieval Romance, allusion to myths, legends and
stories of all kinds, geographical imagery and ideas
from Milton’s own fascination with books of travel
and echoes of the Elizabethan excitement. The new
discoveries Biblical, history and doctrinal, and
Rabbinical and patristic learning are found in this
great synthesis of all that the western mind was
stored with by the middle of the 1700.
3.7 CHARACTERISTIC FEATURES OF AN EPIC
This narrative poem involves heroic, even

supernatural actions and characters sustained by
tradition, implicated in the life and ways of people
and enveloped in the aura of the unusual, the awful
and the sublime, it narrates great actions and
depicts characters in a great way. “It is a
dispassionate poem recited in dignified rhythmic
62
narrative of a momentous theme or action of fulfilled

by heroic characters and supernatural agencies under
the control of a sovereign destiny.
“ T h e e pic as a narrative poem organic in

structure, dealing with great characters and great
actions in a style commensurate with the Lordliness
of the theme which tends to idealize these characters
and actions and to sustain and embellish its subject
by means of episode in amplification.”
The epic celebrates in the form of a continuous

narrative, the achievements of one or more passages
of history or tradition. The subject matter is
generously derived from the “deeds of captains and
kings and of fearful wards” According to Horace it
is mainly concerned with the achievements of heroes.
Sometimes as in the case of Milton, the epic poet
concentrates on the edification of the readers.
Milton considers olidictism as part of epic theme and
so his epic poems convey ethical truths and exalts
moral purpose. Milton is paradise lost justifies the
ways of God to men. High seriousness is a part of the
epic poem. Milton “was always conscious of himself
as a chosen one destined to produce a mighty work
which future generations would not willingly let die.
The action of an epic is usually spacious and

is worked out into majestic proportions. The epic
plot is characterized by greatness of scope and
majesty of incident. Because the epic is long, there
is room for very great variety, the tragic, the
instructive, the descriptive touches of humanity. It
has plenty of time for digressions and descriptions.
63
Milton’s description of the appearance and the shield

and spear of Satan can be cited as an example.
Unity is another feature of an epic. There

must be organic action in epic as in tragedy. “There
is always a single action in the epic poem though the
poet is allowed to introduce innumerable episodes.
Epic poetry in a sense is public poetry because of
the choice of quality. The poet is not only writing
to express his own thought and feelings but the
thoughts and feelings of some large group or
community.
The theme of the epic is stated in the first

few lines and followed by a prayer to the muse.
Milton’s paradise lost begins with a clearly defined
propositions and an invocation. W.J. Long remarks
“It will be seen that this is classic epic not of a
man or a hero but the whole race of man.
According to Raliegh “Paradice Lost concerns

itself with the fortunes, not of a city, or an expire
but of the whole human race, is with that particular
event in the history of the race which has moulded
all its destinies. This epic theme has been
presented by Milton in a stately manner. The
splendors of heaven, the horrors of hell, the serve
beauty of Paradise, the sun and planets suspended
between celestial light and gross darkness are
pictured with a lofty imagination.
The poem rings with echoes from the memorable

passages of the Bible, traverses the secret places of
Heaven and Hell, and ransacks marvelous abstractions
64
like sin and death. It attempts things unattempted

in prose or rhyme.
It is the grand style that Milton uses in the

epic and “the language of the poem is the
elaborated outcome of all the best words, of all
antecedent poetry, the language of ode which lives in
the companionship of the great and wise of all ages.
The Homeric similie is used by, all epic poets

and especially Milton. Satan’s comparison to a
Leviathan can be quoted as an example. As an epic,
Paradise Lost contains a number of thrilling
episodes such as the mustering of troops, battles,
devils, wanderings and ordeals. Like any other epic
the poem is divided into many books.
In every epic, a long and dangerous journey is

made by the hero. Satan’s journey through the space
(in Book II) is recalled here. As an epic story, it
begins in the middle of the action. An epic poem
devotes much space to the discussion of probability.
Like a drama it should have probability, and within
its larger bounds, things less probable can be made
to appear probable. Thus in epic, we have probable
impossibilities” rather than “improbable
possibilities”.
C.M . Bowra remarks that Milton made his epic

theological. According to Herbet the story of the
fall is merely the kernel around which Milton
elaborates. This Paradise Lost, proves to be a great
epic poem because it develops in artistic unity one
great conception and abounds through out its course
65
in daring flights of fancy into unknown regions. He

proves the statement of Dryden that “epic is
undoubtedly the greatest work which the soul of man
is capable to perform.”
3.8 PARADISE LOST AS AN EPIC
Paradise Lost is by common consent an epic poem. The

beginning of the epic shows the fallen angels in Hell
beginning to recover from their defeat and
prostration. Satan had tried to be like the most
High because of which he was brought down to Hell.
The speeches of Satan and his followers are

magnificent in their way, “Miltonic” in the popular
sense of the word; and they represent the
attractiveness of plausible evil. If evil was never
attractive there would be no problem for man. The
descriptions of Satan’s regal state Book I is a
magnificent evocation of all the barbaric splendour.
As for the supposed nobility of Satan, it does

not take a very close reading of his speeches to see
that a self frustrating spite is his dominant
emotion. Of course there are traces of true heroism
in him. Milton is trying to point out that the best
when corrupted, becomes the worst.
Though, until very recently, critics have paid

scant attention to the motivation of Satan’s
rebellion, it must be clear that this motivation is
of cardinal importance to Paradise Lost. A proper
understanding of the rebellion of Satan is likewise
essential to the whole philosophic meaning of the
66
epic. When Satan summons his followers to council in

the North, evil enters the cosmos. Satan’s action
initiates the whole sequence of the expulsion of the
rebel angels, the creation of man to take their
place, the temptation and fall of man, and finally
his regeneration by grace. So much depends on the
motivation of Satan’s rebellion.
After his expulsion from Heaven his sense of

injured pride turns into hatred for those who, as he
thinks, have humbled him and for all connected with
him. It becomes his driving motive and takes on
heroic air when it strengthens his will in defeat and
makes him insist on carrying on the war. His plan
for the corruption of man rises from his “deep
malice”, and this grows greater when he sees the
happiness of Adam and Eve and finds in it a “sight
hateful, sight tormenting”. Satan knows that revenge
recoils on him, but he is prepared to face it. His
heroic spirit has finally disappeared and never again
shows itself. Just as his appearance decays, so does
his character, until he becomes wholly loathsome and
even contemptible.
The character of Satan is pride and sensual

indulgence and also exhibits all the restlessness,
temerity and cunning. Milton has carefully marked in
his Satan the intense selfishness, the alcohol of
egotism, which would rather reign in Hell than serve
in Heaven. To place this lust of self in opposition
to denial of self or duty, and to show what exertions
it would make, and what pains endure to accomplish
its end, is Milton’s particular object in the
67
character of Satan.
Around this character he has thrown a

singularity of daring, a grandeur of sufferance and
a ruined splendour, which constitute the very height
of poetic sublimity.
3.9 CHARACTER OF SATAN
Satan is, of course, an important character in

the epic. Sir Walter Raleigh, remarked that
Satan’s “very situation as the fearless antagonist of
Omnipotence makes him either a fool or a hero, and
Milton is far indeed from permitting us to think him
a fool.
Satan was the first of created beings, who for

endeavouring to be equal with the highest, and to
divide the empire of heaven with the Almighty, was
hurdled down to hell. His aim was no less than the
throne of the universe; his means, myriads of angelic
armies bright, the third part of the heavens, whom he
lured after him with his countenance, and who durst
defy the omnipotent in arms.
The ambition of Satan was the greatest and his

punishment was the greatest; but not so his despair,
for his fortitude was a great as his sufferings. His
strength of mind was matchless as his strength of
body; the vastness of his designs did not pass the
firm, inflexible determination with which he
submitted to his irreversible doom, and final loss of
all good.
68
Milton stresses his enormous stature, his

courage in defeat, his panoply and armaments and the
music of his defeat, of his army. In this company
Satan is a commanding and eminent figure. When he
holds his “great consult”, he sits like an oriental
potentate on his royal throne and controls the
proceedings with masterful ability. Milton admits
that he deserves his position; “Satan exalted sat, by
merit raised to that bad eminence” (Book II, II 5-6)
He is huge in size
…… his other parts besides

Prone on the Flood, extended long and large
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the Fables name of monsterous size
(Book I, II 194 – 7)
The shield of Satan is as big as the largest

round object imaginable like the moon, seen through
the clarity of an Italian night-sky, and enlarged by
a telescope. Elsewhere in Book I Satan is described
as being like a Tower and like the Sun. With this
last image, we can see the process of deterioration;
He still carries traces of his former glories.
…. nor appeared
Less than Arch-angel ruined, and th’ excess
of glory obscured.
(Book I, 11 592-4)
He is still like the Sun seen through morning

mist “Shorn of his Beams”.
69
In the first two books Milton presents Satan

as a war monger and a politician. His spacious
arguments and diabolical urges to be active and
militant rouse the fallen angels from their stupor.
“Awake, arise or be forever fallen”, the terrific war
cry of Satan goes like a clarion call to the benumbed
angels and stirs them to action.
In a clever and strategic manner he whips

Beelzebub into rage telling him that” …. to be weak
is miserable/ Doing or suffering” (Book I 11 157-
58). Emphatically he utters that their mission is to
create evil out of good. He has “a mind not to be
changed by place or Time”. When he says “The mind is
its own place, and in itself, / can make a Heaven of
Hell, a Hell of Heaven. One is tempted to agree with
him. When Satan says “Better to reign in Hell than
serve in Heaven” (Book I 11263) one is forced and
tempted to agree with him. When Satan says “Better
to reign in hell than serve in Heaven” (Book I
11263) one is forced to admire the love of liberty in
him. Though Satan may be “vaunting aloud” in pain,
his fiery utterance “what though the field…/ ….
courage never to submit or yield” (Book I 11105 – 8)
has often been equated with heroic temper and is oft
quoted with characteristic admiration of him.
Milton portrays Satan as a ruined Cathedral or

a tower that still retains about it certain signs of
past glory. These may look imposing even in their
ruins. The glory is obscured, not altogether
departed. He is like the Sun “new arisen” not
possessing all that radiance, or like the sun in an
70
eclipse. The archangel shines above all others even

in the fallen state. He is full of dauntless
courage. He is like the forest oaks and mountain
tope stately but with their tops burnt. The picture
t h a t M i l t o n gives of Satan in this passage is a
mixture of brightness and darkness.
One can find miss his intellect, reason and

even sympathetic imagination, Satan confesses that
God “upbraided none; nor was his service hard” but
the disdained subjection and wanted to be rid of the
burden of serving God. The obligation of being
grateful to God was burdensome; He did not realize at
that time that a grateful mind by owing did not owe
anything at all.
Very soon the realization comes to Satan that there

is no redemption for him and that he is Hell. Hell
is within him, around him and everywhere he goes.
There is no escape from it. He bids farewell to the
little good still lurking in him. “So farewell Hope,
and with Hope farewell Fear / Farewell remorse all
good to me is lost.
3.10 LET US SUM UP
You have so far understood John Milton’s life

and works, the Gest of Paradise Lost, general
characteristics, style and verification of Milton
poetry, features of an epic and paradise lost as an
epic.
3.11 LESSON – END ACTIVITIES
1. Write an essay on the Paradise Lost as an Epic
71
2. Comment on the style and versification of Milton

3. Sketch the character of Satire
72
3.12 REFERENCES
Milton John Milton Poetical Works, ed. Doughlas Bush. London:

Oxford University Press, 1966
Barker, E. Arthur Ed. Milton : Modern Essays in Criticism 1965; rpt

London : Oxford University Press, 1968.
Blamires, Harry Milton’s Creation: A guide through Paradise Lost

London : Methuen & Co. Ltd. 1971.
Daiches, David Milton. London : Hutchinson University, 1957.
Lewis, C.S. A Preface to Paradise Lost. 1942, rpt London:

Oxford University Press, 1975.
Rudrwn Alan A Critical Commentary on Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’

London : Mac Milan, 1966.
Thorpe, James Ed. Milton Criticism: Selections from four centuries.

London: Routledge & Keganpaul Ltd. ,1965
73
UNIT – II
LESSON 4
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
DR. FAUSTUS
Contents
4.1 Introduction
4.2 Out Line of the Play
4.3 Dr. Faustus as a Renaissance Play
4.4 Dr. Faustus as Tragedy
4.5 Mephistophilis
4.6 The Comic Episodes In Faustus
4.7 Let Us Sum Up
4.8 Lesson – End Activities:
4.9 References
The main aim of this lesson is to introduce the Christopher

Maslowe’s play Dr. Faustus with its outline and to project this play
as a renaissance play, and as tragedy play besides explaining the
comic episodes found in Dr. Faustus.
4.1 INTRODUCTION:
Marlowe is the father of the English drama, for he was the

first to perceive the capacities for noble art inherent in Drama and
he adapted it to high purpose by his practice. He saw that the drama,
of the people, had a great future before it, and so devoted h i s
energies to its perfection. Drama resulted from the fusion of most
diverse elements. It was often confused and incoherent. He used the
blank verse suggested to him by the classical drama, and by his
practice of it made it a suitable medium for dramatic expression. He
thus transfigured the form of the English drama. He was the first to
74
construct a coherent plot.
In Marlowe we find for the first time character-development.

Faustus is a one-man play, in Edward II we find interplay of
character. “Under his touch dialogue moved with spirit; men and women
spoke and acted with the energy and spontaneity of nature.” He, for
the first time gave, life-like characters who are not mere puppets,
but who live their own lives.,
Marlowe raised the subject matter he drama to a higher level.

He provided big subjects that appealed to the imagination. The
insatiable spirit of adventure ideals of beauty; the .greatness and
littleness of human life : were his subjects. Marlowe “took the blank
verse of the Classical School, hard and unflinching as a rock, and
struck it with his rod till the waters of human emotion gushed
forth”. He gave a unity to the drama, hitherto lacking. Plays before
had been formless : a succession, of isolated scenes often with no
proper connecting link. He glorified the matter of the drama, by his
sweep of imagination. He vitalised the manner and matter of the
drama, by his energising power. He clarified and gave
coherence to the drama.
4.2 OUT LINE OF THE PLAY
Doctor Faustus story is a dramatized story of the life and

death of a medieval scholar, who sells his soul to the devil, in
return for a life of, power and pleasure. The condition is that he
should get sovereign power and sovereign knowledge by binding himself
to the Devil, and thus be able to satisfy his appetites for twenty-
four years. This power and knowledge are used by Faustus in playing
practical jokes on the great ones of his day, the pope and the
cardinals, and to make poor wretches • the butt of his magic. But the
twenty-four years come to an end and Faustus has to keep his bargain
with Lucifer. He tremblingly awaits death and hell. Till now Faustus
has never called upon God, inspite of being begged over and over
again by the good angel. But now in his last days, he^remembers God
and cries in wail. It is too late now and Faustus' soul is taken away
by the devils to hell. This is the tragical history of Dr. Faustus!
Faustus, in his lust for power and knowledge, aspires to

become a magician who would have everything at his command. He
hires the services of Mephistophills, who is an agent of the devil,
and is prepared to part with his soul to the devil, if and only if he
75
will be the supreme one no this earth, if and only if he will be the
supreme one on this earth and the sole possessor of all knowledge.
He undertakes the most dangerous step of signing the bond with the
evil powers for the supreme knowledge and sovereign power by which he
could satisfy his appetites for the period of twenty four years. He
knows fully well that eternal damnation will fall on him, but he
cares only for the present life and does not even believe about the
life hereafter.
Faustus' manner and use of the magical power, to a great

extent, reflect his transformed attitude toward power itself. He
never gets the power he had ventured for. He deals with the "shadows,
not substantial" things, to use his own description of the feat he
performs. Faustus does not and cannot forget that he has no "real
power", only shadow power. He does not "wall Germany with brass" or
c l o t h e s c h o o l boys in "silk". T h e p l a y comic scenes further
reinforces and proves his knowledge that the Devil, will not impart
'omnipotence' to man. He will be damned without having gained even as
much power as the Devil's. The certainty and imminence of approaching
death is known to remove its fear from such suffering souls.
The tragic fall of Faustus gains more intensity with the close
of the twenty-four years contract with the devil, each time he
remembers God or thinks of repentance the devil threatens him with
dire consequences. As eleventh hour of the last day strikes, he is
in a state of extreme horror. He pleads with Christ to have mercy
on him and wash him with at least half a drop of His precious blood
shed on Calvary cross. But his heart is too hard to sincerely repent
because he had deliberately sold his soul to the devil; it is mere
remorse or sorrow for sin in view of the impending punishment. He
regrets but does not repent. He is finally dragged away from this
world in a state of deep anguish. Only the mangled remains of his
body are gathered by a few young scholars of Wittenberg.
For him, as for Marlowe, lowly birth is no bar to a university

education, and as he sits alone in his study reading from the Latin
text books he is linked in a common language with scholars from
Oxford, Cambridge and all over the civilized world. Rhetoric,
jurisprudence and medicine have trained a mind apt for questioning
eager for learning, and reluctant to take on trust even the most
elementary facts, let alone those hypothesis incapable of empirical
proof. Faustus who refuses to accept from Mephistopheles the
76
evidence for hell’s existence is true to type. His pitiful short

sightedness is all too evident, but there is also a determination to
believe only what he himself can prove.
Marlowe’s hero Dr. Faustus is a man of humble birth who, has

already established himself in the world of learning through his
native abilities. This opening chorus is a cunningly contrived piece
of stagecraft for it not only gives us in a nut shell the form of
Faustus fortune good or bad but with that that freedom of movement
through space and time which was second nature to the Elizabethan
dramatist, concludes by zooming down on Faustus, at this moment, with
the fateful choice still before him – ‘And this the man who in his
study sits. This shuffling together of past, present and future
gives some sense of the inevitability of Faustus progress to
damnation while preserving inviolate the hero’s capacity to choose.
By signing the bond with its ominous first clause Faustus is

not all off from forgiveness. Yet the effects of sin in turning away
from God, make it virtually impossible for him to accept the offered
mercy. Repentance is all that is needed, yet to his dismay, he finds
“My threat’s so hardened I cannot repeat [II, ii, 18)
The devils are adept at picking the bubbles of human self-

glorification, and Faustus’ pride is punctuated in his first
encounter with Mephistopheles. Soaring, as he thinks, to the height
of his power as conjurer laureate, he is jolted shapely back to earth
by the friends casual admission that the conjuring was of no real
import.
“I came now hither of mine own accord”. [I, iii, 44]
Repeated questioning of Mephistopheles brings no satisfaction.

The devil can tell him only what he already know and, forbidden to
speak the praise of God, cannot give him the answer he wants to hear.
Faustus : “Now tell me who made the world?”
Mephistophiles : “I will not” [II, ii, 67-8]
His pride dashed, Faustus becomes increasingly aware of the

emptiness of his bargain and the reality of damnation. The pride
corned his human nature and aspired to become ‘a mighty god’ leads
inevitably to its opposite despair.
77
The play ends where it began, in the solitude of Faustus’

study. It is here that Faustus damns himself finally and
irrevocably. He is never closer to repentance than in the moments
after the Old Man’s speech with its renaissance. The man who has
adjuced the scriptures, forsaken God, trafficked with the devil can
still” call for mercy, and avoid despair [v,i, 61] But hell’s present
physical tortures terrify him more than the thought of future
damnation, and instead of withstanding the momentary agony he
requests, instead the comfort of
“That heavenly Helen which I saw of late,
Whose sweet embracing’s may extinguish clean
Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow [v,I, 90-92]
Helen of Troy, twice passing over the stage, pausing for one
brief moment yet speaking nothing, is the key figure in Dr. Faustus.
For this Faustus has sold his soul. All the glory that was Greece,
was embodied, for the Renaissance, in this woman; her story was the
story in brief of another world, superhuman and immoral.
Faustus, Marlowe combines medieval and Renaissance thoughts.

The dramatist believes with Dante that the pursuit life has a
bearing because it determines what eternal life will be. Faustus
possesses a robust and experience personality. Marlowe builds the
main tension of the play from the clash between Faustus’ Renaissance
desire for the acquisition of unlimited knowledge and power and
medieval dogma of the retribution which is inevitable to one who
adopt evil means to gain such ends.
Self-confidence is another trait in Dr. Faustus, as he has

confidence in himself that he has the ability to master necromancy
and achieve his goal. Once he has started, there is no coming back,
only going forward to achieve his ambition. The others characters
such as Valdes and Cornelius only strengthen Faustus’ confidence.
Marlow has pictured Fausutus’ impatience with earthly

limitations in the first soliloquy. Dr. Fausutus is impatient with
the limitations of the branches of his study and this leads him to
the study of magic and ultimately to his contract with the unearthly
Mephistophilis.
The spirit of adventure – both psychological and physiological
78
led the inquiring mind of Faustus to the distant corners of the earth
with the aid of Mephistophilis. Throughout the play the characters
focus on the importance they attached to the worldly life. Faustus’s
zest for life is brought out by Marlowe by his last minute acceptance
of God in the face of damnation. “…………. A world of profit and
delight, of power, of honour, of omnipotence” and to him, “a sound
magician in a mighty God” And it was this element of Romanticism
that.. a word derived from the word “Rome” – which meant “newness of
ideas” -- that enkindled curiosity, traveling, adventures and
exploration in the age. These elements moulded themselves into a
dominant passion in the character of Faustus.
To sum up, it can be said that as the whole play has its axis,
the figure of Faustus, it is through him that in the play was
introduced the Renaissance element.
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4.3 DR. FAUSTUS AS A RENAISSANCE PLAY
The Renaissance heralded the birth of a new age in Europe. It

tolled the death knell of the middle ages and unheard in a new era of
bright hopes and rosy aspiration. The faint flickering rays of the
Renaissance became visible in Europe quite early in the sixteenth
century. It took time for the Renaissance spirit to reach England.
But when the new light came, it cleared off the old colowels of
ignorance and superstition and made the way clear for the diffusion
of new thoughts and new ideals. Although the great Renaissance
period, of ten somewhat inexactly called the Elizabethan age, came to
be markedly original, its literature had its raise among a multitude
of ancient and foreign influences.
The Renaissance writers portrayed in their work all that was

atheistically immoral and corrupt under the influence of
Machiavelli. They persecuted man as being divine to find free and
feel expansion of his thoughts. Marlowe’s heroes are after power that
knows no limits and they seek it in different ways. Tamberline
resorts to conquests, Faustus to black magic. Barabas to power that
money can give, and Edward II to unhealthy pattern.
Boundless in its aspirations, increasing in its complexions,

the Renaissance mind is the theme of all Malow’s plays. Dr. Faustus
although he is the first figure on the English stage who deserves to
be called a character, is still less an individual than the epitome
of renaissance aspiration. He has all the divine discontent the
unwearied and unsatisfied striving after knowledge that marked the
age in which Marlowe wrote. An age of exploration, its adventurers
were not only the merchants and sea-men who sailed around the world,
but also the scientists, astronomers, who surveyed the leavers with
their optic glass and those scholars who traveled in the realism of
gold to bring back tales of a mighty race of gods and heroes in
ancient Greece and Rome.
The diverse Renaissance elements that “Dr. Faustus” is filled

in are individualism, self confidence, impatience with earthly
limitations, a spirit of revolt, a love of beauty, enjoyment the
object of life, the spirit of adventure both mental and physical,
humanism, patriotism, awakening of people’s mind i.e. spirit of
freedom, zest for life, romanticism, reformation, the measure of
blankverse, and above all the longing for power and knowledge that
may be considered the principle element.
80
When the play opens Faustus stands at the frontiers of

knowledge. The whole of Renaissance learning is within his grasp,
but on closer scrutiny of the parts the whole crumbles away and he is
left with nothing but a handful of dust.
Faustus takes his first step along the primrose path when he
s e t s m a t e r i a l benefits before spiritual blessings. Contemplating
magic, anticipating its rewards with Valdes and Cornelius, he
promises himself all the glory and riches of the Renaissance world.
From Mephistopheles he demands to “live in all voluptuousness” even
before succumbs to the line of magic, his mind has been tempted by
thoughts of wealth.
“Be a physician, Faustus, heap up gold” [I, ii, 14]. Yet

although this obsession with luxury is a flaw in the nature of one
dedicated to the search for knowledge, its seriousness must not be
magnified until it obscures the real issues. In the first soliloquy
Faustus rejects the study of law, leaning it to the “……….. mercenary
drudge who aims at nothing but eternal trash” All the gold that the
doctor can heap [I, i, 34 – 5] up will not reconcile him to the
limitations of medical skill, through whose aid he can restore only
health, not life. And when, in an early agony of indecision, he
weighs the profit and the loss, it is not riches that he puts into
the opposite scale :
“Have not I made blind Homer sing to me
Of Alexander’s love, and Demon’s dealth?
And hath not he, that built the walls of Thebes
With ravishing sound of his melodious harp,
Made music with my Mephistophilis?
With the help of magic, he has gained entry into another

world, a world, later to be incarnate in Helen of Troy, which for
exceeds the riches of all the Venetian argosies, Indian gold and
Orient pearl.
If the Renaissance mind was a flame with thoughts of the

splendor of life and of the knowledge and power which were the means
to its realization, it was also imbued with the knowledge that there
flames were the flames of hell and that Faustus would have done
better merely to wonder at unlawful things as the epilogue says, than
81
to be enticed,
“To practice magic and concealed acts” [I, I, 103]
What is certainly far from easy but what can atleast be

pointed to are the range and immediacy, the complexity and precision,
of the local habitation. This tendency to identify the prophecies of
astrology with astronomy, the realization of the pagan and sensuous
delights of Helen and cussida with the empirical methods of
investigating the natural world, was common enough in the Renaissance
world.
Renaissance was leased on the principle of ‘emancipation from

the bondage of theology’ also. And Dr. Faustus in the play
voluntarily frees himself from “the heavenly matters of theology,”
says, “Divinity adieu” and turns his attention to “the metaphysics of
magicians”.
The Renaissance ideal dominated all the form plays of Marlowe.

He presented ordinary men, whom he endowed with prodigious desires,
almost impossible to achieve. They were dominated by a single
passion, and the Marlowian heroes put up a tremendous struggle
against adverse forces and fell fighting alone. And Marlowe’s Dr.
Faustus is a typical Marlowian hero who stands alone.
Another Renaissance element is portrayed through Dr. Faustus’

character as he, towards the end of the play requests Mephistophilis
that he should see, the heavenly Helen. The sight of her fills him
with wonder. He remarks,
“Was this the face that launched a thousand ships
And burnt the topless the towers of Ilium?”
The very act or his wish to see, the face of Helen of Troy
brings out the Renaissance love of beauty. Enjoyment is considered
to be the object of life as Faustus himself uses the twenty four year
span of his life, with the help of necromancy to enjoy his life to
the full. All his actions were based upon this principle. Even the
minor characters seemed to be intent upon enjoyment of life (e.g.
Ralph and Robin) There is no moral code that governs them.
Another features of Renaissance is the spirit of freedom, and

as a result the writers of the age took liberties with grammar and
syntax. And Marlowe’s plays are examples of the “blank verse, a
82
speech rhythm, the mighty line of Marlowe”, which was perfected by

him. Moreoever the play is persecuted directly in “soliloquy , a
Renaissance theatrical convention. A feature of the Renaissance can
also be seen in not introducing women characters.
Faustus has the genuine Renaissance passion for ‘knowledge

infinite’.
Faustus is completely devoured by the desire to enlarge his

knowledge and go beyond the limits of the human mind and thus also
exercise his power and authority everywhere. He desires for something
greater than mortal knowledge and power and these cravings could only
be satisfied through Black magic. He has a passion for omnipotence.
With the newly acquired power of the magical art and with the
devil’s agent waiting for him to obey his commands, helping him to
meet his doom, much earlier, he assumes complete power over the world
and its ‘Common people’. This sort of strong contempt for the ‘man
of the Earth’ with his limited abilities was one of the main
characteristics of the Renaissance man. Faustus is of humble birth,
he also means to raise himself in life by sheer power of his
knowledge. He craves for supreme knowledge and in order to gain it,
he sells his soul to the devil for twenty four years of absolute
power on this earth. His main aim is to practise more than what
heavenly power permits. He aspires to become higher than anyone else
and to gain complete mastery over God’s universe. He is so obsessed
with the thought of grasping knowledge which is above human limits
that it drives him to a sort of madness urging him to commit the
grave error of signing the bond with the devil.
Love for power makes him set material before spiritual

blessings. Besides his maddening passion for knowledge infinite,
there is in him, a lust for riches and pleasure and power. He wants
to live luxuriously, lavishly, grandly and splendidly. With the help
of the spirit he says: “I’ll have them fly to India for gold, Ransck
the ocean for Orient Peal, and search all corners of the newfound
world, For pleasant fruits and princely delicacies”. He has in him,
the Renaissance love of beauty too. He is not satisfied with any
ordinary woman but Helen is the one he would like to have. Helen is
to him, a ‘paragon of perfection and excellence’, whose ‘face had
launched a thousand ships’. He pays a glowing tribute to her beauty
when her apparition rises before his eyes. He finds her form perfect
and flawless. He wishes to gain a vision of this perfect face and
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pleads the vision to make him immortal with a kiss.
Like the typical Renaissance man, Faustus has the intense

awareness of the splendour of power, knowledge and sensation, and
lives in a world, as did the Renaissance man, in which it was not
possible to remain for ever unaware of the fact that there are more
things in heaven and earth than what philosophy dreams of. Faustus
was so intensely in love with the things of the world that he was
willing to sacrifice his immortal soul to devil fully realizing that
he was incurring eternal damnation upon himself.
The first soliloquy is no man reckoning of accounts but an

inventory of the Renaissance mind Faustus is one of the new Marlowe
figures of the Renaissance ideals. His heroes are attached to beauty
and unlimited power and knowledge. They appear brave and boastful
endowed with aspiring power for good or evil. They are great rebels
in their own right, as their creator himself was. His heroes are
after power that knows no limit and they week it in different ways.
Under the impact of Renaissance enthusiasm, Marlowe chooses imperial
conquest as the most striking theme.
4.4 DR. FAUSTUS AS TRAGEDY
Marlowe had thus endowed .tragedy with a conception of

character, and, in a more general way,, with the suggestion of
unending possibilities of achievement. His conception of tragedy
lies in this; his heroes-fight on to reach their goal of success :
but in their attempt they fail and though they are killed, the main
interest of the plays lies in watching them fight heroically. His
conception of tragedy can be best found in his prol o g u e t o
'Tamburlaine' :
The character and personality of Dr. Faustus, his struggle to

escape from damnation which he incurs as the price for his quest of
knowledge, power, pleasure, and beauty which begins to acquire a
tremendous interest of its own as the play advances, give a singular
unity to the play.
Faustus’ quest of his life is knowledge and power that knowledge

gives. But he is not satisfied with all that he has won. He is now
attracted to necromancy. He assets that this will give him power he
aspires and mastery over all forces, material and spiritual. It is a
damnable practice. And he is well aware of the risk he runs. But he
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desires mastery of the world above everything else, whatever the cost.
This recklessness of spirit cannot but command admiration. It is the
result of his liberated will and intelligence.
The last scene is the most poignant scene in any drama. There
is no escape for him now. He is frantic with despair. The first scene
and the last scene are equally effective—and the last scene is most
impressive. And there is nothing preposterous about the conclusion.
The despair and final surrender of a human soul that defies sin in
its quest of knowledge and power could not have been more tragically
painted. The final solution is reached on the line of Christian
theology. Marlowe has been true to the age in which he lived.
Faustus explains the contract to the scholars. He passes his

last night on earth alone, and goes to hell at midnight Frightened
and regretful', Faustus greets his friends the scholars, explaining
that he must shortly go to hell. He rejects their suggestions that he
should repent, claiming that invisible devils hold his tongue and
hands. The scholars withdraw to the next room to pray for him through
the night. Faustus's long closing monologue concludes the scene,
acting out the intense emotions of the last hour of his life in an
anguished sequence of emotions and thoughts. These include: a desire
for time to stand still; plans to call on God, frustrated by
Lucifer's attacks; a fruitless desire to hide from divine anger and a
list of places to hide; and a wish that he had not been born with a
soul.
In a paroxysm of fear in the face of the doubled vision of

God's rejection and Lucifer's ferocious welcome, Faustus is escorted
to hell. The hesitations about belief that have dominated the rest of
the play are now completely cleared, and Faustus is well aware of the
consequences of his contract. He no longer holds that 'hell's a
fable' (Scene 5, line 127), or that only a comfortable pagan
afterlife awaits him ('This word damnation terrifies not him, / For
he confounds hell in Elysium' - Scene 3, lines 59-60). The pre-
Christian thinkers whose words he earlier trusted are now seen as
inaccurate: 'Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis - were that true, / This
soul should fly from me' (Scene 13, lines 99-100). Extraordinarily,
he is still divided over whether to repent or to follow Lucifer.
Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least,
Which into words, no vertue can digest.” This love of beauty is also a Renaissance feature. So we find
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this first tragedy by Marlowe, saturated with the spirit of the Renaissance,
4.5 MEPHISTOPHILIS acts as the agent of Satan. Faustus has direct

dealings with Mephistophilis. When he signs away his soul to Satan,
Mephistophilis is entirely-at the service of Faustus. All the wonderful
things that are wrought by Faunus, are due to the help of Mephis-
tophilis. The development of the action then partly depends on
Mephistophilis.
After Faustus has signed the bond Mephistophilis has got to

defend the interests of his master. He serves Faustus all right
and executes all his orders. Now the bond Faustus has signed,
cuts both ways. Faustus commands the services of Mephistophilis,
and that by virtue of the " pact; but the pact also gives
Mephistophilis power over Faustus. Wherever Faustus rebels against
Satan, Mephistophilis becomes his master at once and chains him down
at once to obedience to Satan.
4.6 THE COMIC EPISODES IN FAUSTUS
The comic episodes in no way detract from the theme of the

play Dr. Faustus Nor do they demean or damage Faustus as the
protagonist of the play. The problems they cause are technical and
artistic and need closer examination. "We have to agree that the
"middle scenes of the play lack tragic and poetic intensity."
However, they are part of the convention which mixed kings and clowns
and sought to provide comic relief. In •this play, the comic episodes
do not relate to the design of the play and are definitely a concession
to the populist sentiment of the groundlings.
The comic scenes of 'Dr. Faustus' deserve particular

attention. The first comic scene which we come across with in
the play, is where Wagner, Faustus's servant, meets a Clown The
clown in the scene puns on words. The humorous element here is
also supplied by the o f t h e cl o w n w h e n he tries to fly from the
devils critics reeardthe scene as an interpolation are the best
evidence that Marlowe had to consider the groundlings, whose palates
had to be pleased in this manner.
The appearance of the Seven Deadly Sins-in Scene is also

meant to serve as a comic relief. The scene all along is in a
serious tone. But Marlowe was keen on deversifying the serious
element by bringing in comic scenes.
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Such as the one where he where he expresses his contempt for

the papal dignitaries and the churchmen. He makes Faustus play
tricks on them and tries to evoke amusement. This scene is rather an
expression of the satirical vein in Marlowe's mind. Such a spirit of
satire was fostered by the Renaissance, which had liberated the minds
of people, exposed the shams and hypocrisy of the priests, and
enabled them to attack them. The portrayal of the realistic characters
in Ralph and Robin is, however, significant. Another comic scene;
where Faustus tracts the horse-courser. The pulling off of the leg of
Faustus and other such incidents supply very cheap jokes. They can
only please the groundlings.
Robert Ornstein provides an insight into the synthesis of the

comic and the tragic in Doctor Faustus : "Here is travesty of a high
order ! ...the mighty Faustus parodies his own highvaulting thoughts
and ambitions as Wagner and the Clown had parodied them earlier. Or
more correctly, as Faustus changes shape the tragic-comic contrast
begins to coalesce. Scene by scene the opposing images approach one
another until at last we discover beneath the exalted appearance of
the fearless rebel the figure of the fool. When, Faustus steals the
Pope's cup and Robin steals the Vintner's goblet the tragic and comic
images nearly merge. The difference between hero and clown is one of
degree, not of kind."
However, to equate the Clown's mocking about selling his soul

for a "mutton roast" with Faustus' epicureanism would be stretching
the point too far even though Faustus does spend, his last days in
"belly-cheer" carousing with his students. What .integrates the comic
scenes depicting Faustus' buffoonery with the tragic parts ultimately,
I believe, is Faustus' own "'consciousness" that he has been cheated
of a great time of his life by the Devil; that he had sought to be a
superman overreaching the Devil but he has been befooled.
Faustus does not find these flaws beyond defence and traces
the degeneration and drooping of spirits that sets in, within the
comic section also. He is aware of his tragic dimension as well as
comic or foolish aspects of his-failed venture. According to Steane,
these middle scenes, "illustrate the growing emptiness of the way of
life Faustus has chosen." The wonder in Faustus' European travel, his
enjoyment in the Vatican at the cost of the Pope "degeneiate" in the
scenes with the Emperor, the fun being at its. lowest with the Horse-
courser and without life in the Vanholt scenes.
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The play would have stopped at this point, so far as the

tragic part is concerned, had Faustus, the Good Angel, and Marlowe
himself shared Lucifer’s opinion as to the irrevocability of the
compact. But there is still hope in the Good Angels comforting.
“Fastus repent, yet God will pity thee”. [II, ii, 12]
The appearance of the Seven Deadly Sins-in Scene is also

meant to serve as a comic relief. The scene all along is in a
serious tone. But Marlowe was keen on deversifying the serious
element by bringing in comic scenes.
Such as the one where he where he expresses his contempt for

the papal dignitaries and the churchmen. He makes Faustus play
tricks on them and tries to evoke amusement. This scene is rather an
expression of the satirical vein in Marlowe's mind. Such a spirit of
satire was fostered by the Renaissance, which had liberated the minds
of people, exposed the shams and hypocrisy of the priests, and
enabled them to attack them. The portrayal of the realistic characters
in Ralph and Robin is, however, significant. Another comic scene;
where Faustus tracts the horse-courser. The pulling off of the leg of
Faustus and other such incidents supply very cheap jokes. They can
only please the groundlings.
4.7 LET US SUM UP
Marlowe has been justly called, “the father of The.. English

Drama’, “The Morning star...of the English Drama”, for he marks the
end of the first period in the history of drama, and the beginning of
the second over which he presides. His advent marks the end of
medieval drama and the birth of the great Renaissance plays. He did a
wonderful job for the development of English Drama. No wonder his
contributions were great.
1. Write an essay on Dr. Faustus as a Renaissance Play.
2. What is the significance of the Comic episodes in Dr. Faustus?
3. Comment on the last scene of Dr. Faustus.
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4.9 REFERENCES
Marlowe, Christopher Doctor Faustus. Ed. Roma Gill et al., London

: Ernest Benn Ltd., 1965 rpt., 1967
Baugh, Albert C. ed. A Literary History of England Vol. II. London :

Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd., 1967.
Farnham, Willard. ed. Twentieth Century Interpretations of Doctor

Faustus. London: Prentice – Hall, 1969.
Jump, John D. ed. Doctor Faustus, Christopher Marlowe. New Delhi

: B.I. Publications. 1975.
Gill, Roma Doctor Faustus, London Ernest Bean Limited, 1965.
Legouis, Emile et. al., A History of English Literature. London :

J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd., 1926 rpt., 1965.
Sharma, J.K. Christopher Marlowe. Doctor Faustus : A Criticism.

New Delhi: Sterling Publications Private Ltd.,
1985.
89
LESSON - 5
JOHN DRYDEN
All FOR LOVE
Contents

5.1 Introduction
5.2 Dryden’s Life & Works.
5.3 Plot-Construction In “All For Love”
5.4 Theme
5.5 Mark Antony
5.6 Cleopatra
5.7 Octavia
5.8 Ventidius
5.9 Dolabella
5.10 Alexas
5.11 Style And Technique
5.12 Features of Heroic Play

5.13 All For Love as a Herioc Play
5.14 High Tragedy
5.15 Shakespeare and Dryden
5.16 Let Us Sum Up
5.17 Lesson-End Activities
5.18 References
This lesson is devoted for detailing all things about the “All
for Love”; a classical work of John Dryden.
5.1 Introduction
The change from the romantic to the classical manner was

already in evidence before Dryden was born. Dryden saw which way
the literary wind was blowing, and set his craft cheerfully in the
same direction. He gauged its possibilities and did brilliant
things. He saw what kind of verse the people of his day wanted, and
made it his business to give it them. It is quite clear from a study
of his plays, how surely he was developing the qualities of ease,
flexibility, and lucidity that he brought into English verse,
particularly the satire. Then, at the age of fifty, after a
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prosperous career as a serious poet, and a dramatist, he suddenly

became famous in the direction, where, after all, lies his especial
claim on future generations, the field of satire.
5.2 Dryden’s Life & Works.
Born in 1631, in the little village of Aldwinkle in

Northamptonshire, John was the son of its rector, the Rev. Erasmus
Dryden, and Mary Pickering his wife, both of whom belonged to old
county families with strong Puritan tendencies. There is
scant record of his boyhood ; his early schooling appears to have
been more solid than that usually imparted in country villages, for
in writing to a friend a few years before his death he speaks of the
pleasure with which he had read an English translation of the works
of the Greek historian Polybius “ before he was ten years of age,”
and that “ even then he had some dark notions of the prudence with
which he wrote. Essay on Dramatic Poetry.
Trinity College, Cambridge, has the honour of being his Alma

Mater, which he entered in 1650, but two years later came into
conflict with the Vice-Master for “ disobedience and contumacy in
taking his punishment “—of the form of punishment we are left in
ignorance. At Cambridge he also wrote some not very memorable verse.
On leaving Cambridge in 1657, he came to London as secretary to

Sir Gilbert Pickering, a kinsman of his mother’s and chamberlain to
Oliver Cromwell, and we may imagine the young man was glad of the
opportunity of adding somewhat to the small in-come of £40 a year
which came to him on the death of his father three years before. His
marriage in 1664 to Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the Earl of
Berkshire, brought another £100 a year to the family exchequer, but
not a corresponding amount of happiness, the Lady Elizabeth lacking
that strong and purposeful character so character-istic of her
husband.
Up to this time Dryden had done little to establish the great

reputation that was subsequently to be bis. He had written some
purely official verses in 1659, on the death of the Protector, which
contrast oddly with his eulogy of Charles the Second on his
coronation, in Astrcea Redux, the following year. His best efforts
are shown unmistakably in hia early verses addressed to Dr. Charlton
in 1663.
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The Wild Gallant (1663), The Rival Ladies (1664) Mac-

Flecknoe, 1682 and Absalom and Achitophel are some of his works.
Dryden’s literary significance is threefold, and is expressed in his
prose, his dramas, and his verse. In this section we are dealing
exclusively with Dryden the poet.
5.3 PLOT-CONSTRUCTION IN “ALL FOR LOVE”
In All for Love the scene is laid in Alexandria and does not
shift elsewhere ; the action does not go beyond a single day. Within
such limits he has to develop the theme of the play. The theme is a
contest between love and honour in Antony. The preliminary talk of
Serapion and Alexas in the opening scene forms the exposition.
Antony is the theme of the conversation in the opening scene.
The portents and prodigies to which Serapion refers seem to
foreshadow the future developments which can only be disastrous to
Antony. The Roman army is stationed in Alexandria, to be in action at
any moment. It is a threat to Egypt. Antony has betaken, himself to
the temple of Isis, and is a prey to black despair, and seems t o b e
shunning Cleopatra. With the presence of the Roman army in Alexandria
and the seeming concurrence of Antony in the situation, since there
is no activity on his part, there is immediate danger to Egypt—it may
be converted into a Roman province any day.
Octavia, Antony’s wife, is trying to seek revenge, and Dolabella,
once his friend, bent on accomplishing Antony’s ruin. Alexas asserts
that Cleopatra still dotes on Antony, when she could saved herself
and her kingdom by discarding Antony, and seems to be very much
worried about the state of things. It appears as though nothing could
be done to shape the destiny of Egypt. So, all the information that
is needed to follow the action of the play is supplied in the opening
dialogues.
Ventidius is introduced as the man who has a strong hold upon
Antony. Though Antony will receive no visitor, Ventidius presents
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himself before him. Ventidius proceed very cautiously and tactfully,
reproaching him for his passive submission and indolence. He offers
him the services of twelve legions so that he may fight again to
recover his position. None but Ventidius could have handled him.
Antony realizes that he has degraded himself by his sensual love for
Cleopatra, and Ventidius is pleased to hear that he is even willing
to leave Cleopatra. The sooner he does it the better. It is not yet
too late to retrieve the position.
The first Act opens with the dialogue between Serapion and
Alexas, who prepare the audience for the future action of the play.
The action of the play is confined to a single day and focuses on
Antony who has sunk into despair, to rouse himself and fight his
enemy at the door. Ventidius, Antony’s general, is brought in without
delay into the presence of Antony; it is now only Ventidius who can
draw him out of his inaction, and rescue him from his enslavement to
dishonourable love.
Alexas informs Cleopatra that Antony will have nothing more to do
with her, but is going to fight and not even see her again. She is
naturally upset. Losing Antony and i s t h e greatest calamity to her.
She is reproached by Alexas for her weak passion which is unbecoming
of a queen. And she replies that she is no queen when she is besieged
by the Roman Army, and when her country may be reduced to slavery at
any moment.
Absents weighs most heavily upon her. She is most unhappy because
Antony would not see her again. Charmion whom she sends to Antony,
returns to tell her that Antony is in the midst of his soldiers, and
that he received her though Ventidius frowned at it, and that Antony
would not rather see her if he could, and sends his respects to her.
Alexas, Cleopatra’s adviser, Alexas next brings Antony a message from
Cleopatra. It is an appeal to Antony’s men to stand by him and
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protect him from all dangers ; and with the message comes the gift of
a bracelet for Antony. Ventidius is unable to check Antony.
Alexas now sends an attendant to bring in Cleopatra. Antony when
he sees Cleopatra again, remarks that hard fates are separating them.
He charges her with having been obsessed with Caesar, while she was
in love with him ; and reproaches himself for having wasted his time
in lascivious love for her, for his infatuation for the raising of
war by his wife, Fulvia, in Italy, and her subsequent death. He
regrets his marrying Octavia to gain the friendship of Octavius and
his repudiation of her for the sake of Cleopatra, his defeat at the
battle of Actium at sea, for which he holds her mainly responsible,
as she advised him to fight at sea while he wanted to fight by land.
In fact, Antony blames Cleopatra for all that has happened in his
life since his association with her Cleopatra replies to all these
charges in effective and unambiguous, and at last produces a letter
from Octavius, in which she is offered Egypt as well as Syria if she
supports him. She has refused a kingdom for him; but that is not
much. She will readily part with her life for him. Antony makes a
complete surrender to Cleopatra:
“Give, your gods, Give to your boy, your Caesar, This rattle of a
globe to play, withal, This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off.
I’ll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.”
In the contest between love and honour, love routs honour. In the
first Act when Ventidius argues with Antony, honour prevailes against
love. To quote :
Our men armed: Unbar the gate that looks to Caesar’s camp: I
would revenge the treachery he meant me.
At this stage, in him there is a conflict between l o v e a n d
honour. He explores if he can uphold his honour and redeem himself
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from degradation to which he has sunk by his infatuated and
illegitimate’love for Cleopatra.
The third Act introduces the celebration of Antony’s victory over
the forces of Octavius. He is aware of the fact that Octavious will
try his best to bring about his ruin and destruction. Ventidius is
sure that Antony cannot redeem his position until he extricates
himself from Cleopatra, so he brings in Dolabella. Antony still
remembers Dolabella as estranged from him because he has betrayed his
passion for Cleopatro. But he esteems him as his friend. Ventidius
firmly believes that with the help of Dolabella he will be able to
wean Antony away from the sinister influence of Cleopatra.
Ventidius conceives, that there is no other way of saving Antony
and restoring his honour which he has so miserably jeopardized by his
surrender to the voluptuous love of Cleopatra.
According to Dolabella, Antony betrays his sense of shame at his
self-degradation, but he would deprecate any charge being made
against the Queen (Cleopatra). One of the charges being that she had
anything to do with the death of Dolabella’s brother. Antony refers
to Dolabella being smitten with love for Cleopatra. Dclabella
reiterates that Antony’s infatuation has cost him his legions, his
honour and half the world he once ruled. He hints also that
honourable terms have been settled for him with Octavius. This is
f o l l o w e d b y Ventidius bringing in Octavia and her two little
daughters.
So it is Octavia who has settled honourable terms to restore the
honour of Antony. She convinces Antony that by the terms agreed upon,
his honour remains unimpeached and his freedom remains unconditional,
that he is even free to abandon his wedded wife Octavia. Octavia
tells him that all that her brother seeks is Antony’s friendship, and
.that if he likes, he may discard her, and she will not complain.
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Antony has no scruples about accepting that offer, when it seems to
be dictated by Octavia’s duty, and not love as she does not mind
being dropped by Antony if he is so inclined. Antony is not willing
to be obliged to Octavia who does not love him.
Octavia offers, her duty inspite of being injured and denied

love. She says,
Therefore, my lord,
I should not love you, and adds, And therefore I should leave
you, if I could.
As result of a conflict in Antony, he is more than half inclined

to yield to Octavia. He is torn between Cleopatra and Octavia. For
his heart is overwhelmed with pity for both of them. Antony has a
sorely distracted mind. At last, he cries out:
I am vanquished: take me,

Olivia, take me, children: share me well.
I’ve been a thriftless debtor to your loves,
And run out much, in riot, from your stock:
But all shall be amended.
This leads to the climax of the play.
In the following interview between Cleopatra and Octavia in Act
three, Cleopatra claims that her beauty attracted Antony who must
have come to her after having grown weary of dull, tame domesticity.
Octavia asserts that she is model of a virtuous modest wife set
against the lasciviousness of a mistress. Cleopatra replies that she
has no reason to be ashamed of charms that may please the bravest
man, and claims that she loves Antony better, and deserves him more.
And Octavia censures her for having been his ruin, and made him
scorned abroad, and betrayed him at Actium. Cleopatra’s reply is:
Yet she, who loves him best, is Cleopatra.
If you have suffered, I have suffered more. And she has lost her
honour, degraded her royal house—all to bear the branded name of
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mistress. Cleopatra puts up her ptea as strongly as Octavia.
In the fourth Act Antony, instead of making his farewell to
Cleopatra personally, sends Dolabella to do it for him. Alexas who
bears a hand in all the affairs of Cleopatra, now sees that Cleopatra
is going to lose Antony, suggests a plan to her. While Dolabella
comes to say farewell to her on behalf of Antony, she should rekindle
love in him who has a weakness’ for her, and thus she can win back
Antony by rousing his jealousy. To this plan, Cleopatra agrees rather
reluctantly. With a hint of encouragement from Cleopatra, Dolabella
pours out his passion for her, and rather overdoes his part in
misreporting Antony’s callous cruelty to her, and Cleopatra is very
much upset. Then Dolabella goes down on his knees and recants, and
speaks fairly of Antony and his attitude to her. He confesses:
I, traitor as I was, for love of you.

(But what can you not do, who made me false ?)
I forged that lie, for whose forgiveness kneels
This self-accused, self-punished criminal.
Then he takes her hand—and it is all the reward he claims for the
service he is going to render her. The scene is watched by Ventidius
and Octavia. Ventidius misinterprets it to Octavia, as an exchange of
love between Dolabella and Cleopatra.
This is reported to Antony who will not at first believe it. When
Alexas turns up, Ventidius catches hold of him, and tells him that he
overheard Cleopatra making love to Dolabella and demands of him
Alexas that he must not conceal the truth. Alexas’s confession is
rather ambiguous. He first defends Cleopatra’s love for Antony, for
when her beauty has attracted kings from far and near, she had chosen
a Roman for’her love, and that Roman is Antony. Then he points out
that due regard of honour now disposes her to renounce her claim for
Octavia, though her heart may not have wholly altered. Then he
defends his mistress if she were to turn her love to Dolabella.
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Antony bursts out in his passion when he hears this, and Octavia
chafes within “for this extreme concernment for an abandoned,
faithless prostitute.” Antony bids •Octavia to leave him. Octavia
retorts:
Wherein have I offended you, my lord,
That I am bid to leave you ? Am I false,
Or infamous ? Am I a Cleopatra ?
Were I she,
Base as she is, you would not bid me leave you:
But hang upon my neck, take slight excuses,
And fawn upon my falsehood.
Now it appears that Octavia grows as jealous of Cleopatra as
Antony of Dolabella. This is followed by the final break-off between
Octavia and Antony. She leaves him never to return. She refuses to
have a share in him with Cleopatra. Her last words are:
So, take my last farwell, for I despair
To have you whole, and scorn to take your half.
This is again the end of Ventidius’s hope ever to rescue Antony
from his enslavement to Cleopatra. And this works the anticlimax.
Antony seems to be bemused by jealousy. The frankness and
sincerity of both Dolabella and Cleopatra has no effect on Antony.
Dolabella confesses that to his loving Cleopatra is a sin in him, but
avows Cleopatra’s innocence, and Cleopatra confesses her inciting in
Dolabella to win back Antony’s love.
It is for Antony a farewell to love and friendship, and he cannot
forgive them while he can forgive a foe. In this scene in which
Antony dismisses his mistress and his friend, he shows himself at his
worst, while Cleopatra shows herself at her best. Antony feels like
relenting for a moment, but honour, he thinks now, triumphs: “I have
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a fool within me takes my part; But honour stops my e a r s . ” I t i s
jealousy that blinds him, when honour is out of question.
The fifth Act, o p e n s w i t h Cleopatra, Charmion and Iras, soon
joined by Alexas. Cleopatra curses herself, for doting on him, Antony
which she cannot rid herself of even now. She brings out her dagger
to kill herself but she is restrained. But she can, as she tells
them, die inward, and her soul seems to struggle with all the agonies
of love and rage. Then seeing Alexas she vents her wrath upon him. He
diverted her from the path of plain and open love—and the result is
her banishment and the removal of Octavia. She makes Alexas
responsible for the calamity that has come upon her. Alexas still
flatters her with hopes of winning back Antony’s love when Octavia is
gone and Dolabella is banished, for jealousy with which he is now
visited is the secret nourisher of love. He reports an engagement
between the Egyptian fleet and Octavius’s which Antony has been
watching at the moment.
Serapion now enters and delivers the news that the Egyptian fleet
has gone over to the enemy, and that Antony cannot but think that he
has been betrayed, and warns Cleopatra to keep out of his way. Alexas
offers to go to Caesar, and negotiate her safety. Clelopatra spurns
this offer for it would be but betraying Antony. She would now listen
to Serapion and not to Alexas. They leave Alexas, and he is anxious
now to save his own life, and to think no more of Cleopatra or Egypt.
Antony questions Alexas who tells him that Cleopatra had nothing
to do with the desertion of the Egyptian fleet and that she had
retired to her monument, and killed herself. Now, Antony fully
believes in her innocence.
Ventidius again urging him to fight, is of no avail. Antony
replies that when his queen is dead and that he has valued his power
and empire for her. Now that she is dead, let Octavius take the
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world. Rather than be captured by Octavius. Antony desires to die
like a Roman, ie., kill himself. Ventidius offers to follow him to
death. Antony desires him to live after him, and report him fairly,
and then suggests that he would better kill him and recommend himself
to Octavius by the merit of this act. Ventidius is hurt by this
proposal At last the pact is made that he should kill Antony first
and then himself. But Ventidius plunges the sword into himself. He
prefers to die perjured rather than kill his friend. Antony next
throws himself upon his sword, but it misses his heart. Fortune seems
to have let him down.
At this moment Cleopatra enters, followed by Charmion and Iras.
There is a mutual understanding now. The dying Antony is placed in a
chair ; he has but few moments to live, and he is comforted when she
tells him that her fleet betrayed him and her; and that she is going
to die with him. He seals his love for her with a dying kiss. Now she
claims to be his wife, and she loved a Roman, and she is going to die
like the wife of a Roman. She will not submit to Octavius to grace
his triumph in Rome. She first crowns Antony’s head with a laurel
wreath and then she decks herself in her jewels like a bride, and
sits beside him ; then she puts the asp on her arm, and death slowly
creeps upon her.
Next it is the turn for Iras and Charmion to die by the bite of
the asp. Then enter Serapion, two priests, Alexas in chains and
Egyptians, and they behold the tragic scene—the lovers sitting in
state together, a smile still flickering on the lips of Cleopatra.
Serapion pays them this tribute:
And fame to late posterity shall tell,

No lovers lived so great, or died so well.
The last line of the play is:
No lovers lived so great, or died so well.
5.4 THEME
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In the opinion of Dr. Johnson All for Love “has one fault equal
to many . . . that, by admitting the romantic omnipotence of love,”
Dryden “has recommended, as laudable and worthy of “Imitation that
conduct, which, through all ages, the good have censured as vicious,
and the bad despised as foolish.”
Dryden declared in his preface to the tragedy that he was
attracted to the subject-by the “excellency of the moral”; that the
“chief persons represented were famous patterns of unlawful love; and
their end accordingly was unfortunate.” For Dryden the love affair
of Antony and Cleopatra contained good potentials for tragedy because
it ex-emplified punishment for a love “founded upon vice”; it made
virtue attractive and vice repellent, and therefore met the
requirement for poetic justice. Dryden believed that the lovers do
not demand full tragic pity because “the crimes of love, which they
both committed, were not occasioned by any necessity, or fatal
ignorance, but were wholly voluntary; since-our passions are, or
ought to be, within our power” (Essays, ed. Ker, 1900 I, 191-192).
The inevitability of tragedy is lacking, according to Dryden, since
the lovers are not forced into their actions. But if we look closely
at the play, we find that it does not present a picture of “the
crimes of love” and of unlaw-ful lovers- being punished for their
voluntary transgressions. Instead, it gives us almost the opposite: a
love that is inevitable, an uncontrollable force; and the lovers
vindicated because of their passion. Our sympathies are drawn to the
lovers and held there because their passions are not within their
power.
The theme of All for Love is the conflict of reason and honor
with passion in the form of illicit love. From the preface it seems
That Dryden wished to show how Antony, torn between these two,
chooses unreasonable, passionate love and is consequently punished
for his denial of reason.!
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The play begins with a struggle. Antony, “Unbent, unsinew’d, made
a Womans Toy / Shrunk from the vast extent of all his honours,” hopes
to “cure his mind of Love.” Ventidius, the “old true-stampt Roman,”
sides with the world of reason, of “plainness, fierceness, rugged
virtue,” by cursing the joy and revelry of the Egyp-; tians, and by
deriding Alexas, the eunuch the “unmanned” as “Antony’s other fate”
(Works, ed. Summers, 1932, IV, 192, 194-196).
Aware of his degradation, Antony admits the truth of Ventidius’s
charges:
I have lost my reason, have disgraced. The name of Soldier, with
inglorious ease. In the full Vintage of my flowing honors, Sate
still, and saw it prest by other hands, (p. 199)
When Antony resolves to kill himself because the world is not
worth keeping, Ventidius offers to die with him. Thus, early in the
play some of the contradictions are evident.
This desperate, illicit love of Antony, a world-weary. Roman, and
the beautiful, sensual, and cunning Cleopatra has so enmeshed them
that they are unable to control themselves, although, both are well
aware of what they are doing. In Act V Dryden seems to have been
faced once and for all withtin,’ choice of punishing his lovers and
proving the “excellency of the moral” or closing the play with the
victory over reason and honor which has been inevitable since the
first act. Antony’s closing lines indicate that Dryden abandoned
altogether his ideal of poetic justice:
Ten years love,
And not a moment lost, but all improy’d,
To th’ utmost joys: (What Ages have we liv’d?
And now to die each others; and, so dying,
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While hand in hand we walk in Gfoyes below,
Whole -Troops of Lovers Ghosts shall flock about us,
And all the Train be ours.
No speech after this suggests a moral condemnation of the lovers.
Rather the play ends on quite another note:
I And Fame, to late Posterity, shall tell, / No lovers liv’d so
great or dy’d so well. (p. 261)
Faced with the opposing viewpoints of Dryden’s preface on the one
hand and the play itself with its sub-title on the other, we had best
take Ttie World Well Lost as the more accurate statement of Dryden’s
intention.
Dryden believed that Antony and Cleopatra should be pun-ished
since they violated one of the basic strictures of his age, but yet,
as we have seen, he could not regard his tragic hero and heroine as
illustrations of a neo-classical moral maxim—for his lovers, the
world was “well lost.” The result was a conflict, to which the
central weak-nesses in All for Love may be attributed.
A theme not pursued in Shakespeare so baldly is the insistence
that .Antony, like Samson, chose an alien woman, a recurrent motif in
Samson.
Octavia: I need not ask if you are Cleopatra;

Your haughty carriage—
Cleopatra: Shows I am a queen:
Nor need I ask you, who you are.
Octavia: A Roman:
A name that makes and can unmake a queen.
Cleopatra: Your lord, the man who serves me, is a Roman.
Octavia: He was a Roman, till he lost that name,
To be a slave in Egypt; but I come
To free him thence. (Ill, i)
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The critical link between All for Love and Samson is perhaps more
interesting even than the thematic and verbal similarities.
Dryden commenting on Antony remarks, “The death of Antony and
Cleopatra is a subject which has been treated by the greatest wits of
our nation, after Shakespeare.” The excellency of the moral is to be
noted. For the chief persons represented are famous patterns of
unlawful love; and their end accordingly is unfortunate.
5.5 MARK ANTONY
Antony, too, is willing to sacrifice all for love, and in him the
accent on suffering and compassion is even more marked. Not
“altogether wicked, because he could not then be pitied,” he is as
different; from the heroical hero of Dryden’s earlier plays as he is
from Shakespeare’s hero. Indecisive, and the constant prey of
conflicting sentiments, he is thrown by the successive pleas of
Ventidius, Octavia, Dollabella, and Cleopatra into alternating
postures of grief and hope; and his ability to assume such postures
with extravagance and he becomes the final measure of his heroism.
Early in the play Ventidious’ accords Antony the credentials of

the earlier heroes: a “vast soul” Herculean divinity:
Methinks you breath
Another Soul: Your looks are more Divine; You speak a Heroe, and
you move a God. (V, 347, 359) But the context of Ventidius’ praise is
a scene which exploits precisely those qualities in Antony which make
him less than a god: his compassionate sensibilities, and his “tender
heart.”
Antony gives in Ventidius in this scene and agrees to resume the
duties of his empireless to assert his glory than to demonstrate his
affection for his frieni, He hugs Ventidius and weeps with him: Sure
there’s contagion in the tears of Friends: See, I have caught it,
too. Believe me, ’tis not For my own griefs, but thine. (V, 353). His
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relationship with Cleopatra, though more complicated, is similarly
sentimental. Antony claims often that Cleopatra “deserves / More
Worlds than I can lose” (V, 357), but when the play begins he has
already effectively lost the world and we see him “walking with a
disturb’d Motion,” and shortly afterwards, lying prostrate upon the
stage.
Antony proves his worth as a lover much as Cleopatra does, not by
giving away worlds which are no longer in his power to give, but by
showing his capacity for sympathy and suffering. He can almost always
be reduced to tears by his friends and by her— “One look of hers,
would thaw me into tears,” he tells Dollabella, “And I should melt
until I were lost again.” (V, 395)— and in virtually every situation
in which we see him on stage, his grandeur is shown by the enormity
of his distress. No longer a conqueror, a family man rather than a
superman, Antony is the hero of a play which exalts the man of
feeling, the man who “Weeps much; fights little; but is wond’rous”
Antony’s flaw is resembles Samson’s uxoriousness. Dalila’s
overwhelming confidence that het touch alone (“Let me approach at
least, and touch thy hand”—951)’ would bring Samson back to her is
echoed by Ventidius’ passionatt advice to Antony not to accept a gift
from Cleopatra.
To quote Dryden’s words, Now, my best lord,—in honour’s name, I
ask you, For manhood’s sake, and for your own dear safety, Touch not
these poisoned gifts, Infected by the sender; touch them not . . .
(II, i)
Ventidius, Dolabella, and later Octavia have repeatedly to call
forth the sentiment of honour in Antony. He is known to be a great
warrior, but as he has been portrayed in the play, he appears a
feeble and more or less passive character. Cleopatra is consistent
throughout; her love for Antony never varies for a moment, even in
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her interview with Octavia, she defends herself ably for such love.
Even as a voluptuary and a dissipated rake Antony shows much of
zest, or a keen sense of enjoyment. He is a man of strong appetites
and passions or that he is capable of yielding himself to the
frenzied intoxication of love. Antony seems to be without character.
Ventidius tries to inspire him with a feeling for honour, but he
cannot retain it long. He has to bring in Dolabella and Octavia to
enforce his appeal to Antony’s fiftul sense of honour, Octavia brings
him fair terms. The terms give Antony entire freedom of choice. He
may even discard his legally wedded wife, Octavia, while he offers
his friendship to Octavius. Octavia says:
I’ll tell my brother we are reconciled;

He shall draw back his troops, and you shall march to rule the
East: I may be dropt and Athens;
No matter where. I never will complain,
But only keep the barren name of wife,
And rid you of the trouble.
Antony almost surrenders to Octavia, who wins the sympathy of the
audience. but there is more pity for Cleopatra. Octavia, behaves with
more grace and dignity than Antony. At last Antony confesses himself
vanquished. For the time being it is a total surrender to Octavia:
Take me,
Octavia; take me, children: share me all
[Embracing them.
I’ve been a thriftless debtor to your loves,
And run out much, in riot, from your stock;
Antony is as variable as the wind. He is later filled with
jealousy when it is reported to him that Dolabella, sent by him to
bid farewell to Cleopatra for him, has been making love to her.
Ventidius might have overreached himself in this matter, for he
inflames jealousy in Antony by his report which Alexas is made to
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confirm in a way—and the result is the final breakoff between Antony
and Octavia. His jealousy again seems to be fatuous. He is incapable
of the fury of jealousy.
Antony is disturbed and dissatisfied with the confession
Cleopatra and Dolabella the trick that seems to have been played upon
him. His reason and judgment seem to be of a very low order. The
confession of Cleopatra and Dolabella leaves their bonafides
unquestioned, and makes truth come to limelight, but Antony is unable
to see it.
After his rupture with Octavia, Antony does not go back to
Cleopatra. He suspects Cleopatra of loving Dolabella, and he may
perhaps want to keep away from her. He resumes fighting with
Octavius, and then the crisis comes—the Egyptian fleet goes over to
Octavius. And Antony thinks that he has been betrayed by Cleopatra :
Ungrateful woman!
Who followed me, but as the swallow summer,
Hatching her young ones in my kindly beams,
Singing her flatteries to my morning wake;
But now my winter comes, she spreads her wings,
And seeks the spring of Caesar.
The following dialogue between Ventidius and Antony at this stage
throws light on his character:
Ant, I will not fight; there’s no more work for war.

The business of my angry hours is done.
Vent. Caesar is at your gates. Ant. Why, let him enter: He’s
welcome now.
Vent. What lethargy has crept into your soul ?
Ant. Tis but scorn of life and just desire
To free myself from bondage.
The slumbering sentiment of honour in him is awakened by
Ventidius now and then. His love for Cleopatra does not seem to be a
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strong passion: it is easily killed by a flick of jealousy. However,
he is going to die like a Roman, who would not let himself be
captured alive by his enemy. He throws himself upon his sword, but it
misses his heart.
Now a reconciliation is patched up between him and Cleopatra.|
Before dying he wants to be assured that Cleopatra is not false to
him. She exclaims.
First, this laurel Shall crown my hero’s head; he fell not
basely. Nor left his shield behind him,—only thou Couldst triumph
o’er thyself, and thou alone Wert worthy so to triumph.
Antony, destroyed by his own passions and the situation in which
he is placed, is a truly tragic figure.
5.6 CLEOPATRA
Cleopatra attempts to bring Antony back into her world. The

opening and concluding lines of the act indicate the progress of the
action and her success:
Cleopatra. What shall I do, or whither shall I turn?
Ventidius has o’rcome, and he will go.
Antony. How I long for night!
That both the sweets of mutual love may try. (p. 216)
Cleopatra is far more than the evil temptress, offering ruin,

that Dryden seems to indicate in his preface: instead, she
illustrates a moral complexity which reason cannot solve.
Iras. Call reason to assist you.
Cleopatra. I have none.
And none would have; my Move’s a noble madness, i
Which shows the cause deserv’d it. Moderate sorrow
Fits vulgar Love, and for a vulgar Man:
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But I have lov’d with such transcendent passion,
I soar’d, at first quite out of Reasons view,
And now am lost above it. (p. 204)
Her transcendent love is an emotion which rises above reason.
Cleopatra’s false cloak of virtue does not enrich her personality but
detracts from her essential character of mature sophistication: she
is hardly a woman who would mourn the loss of honor through love.
Cleopatra, though somewhat less masochistic than Octavia, is
similarly domesticated and sentimentally self-indulgent. In one
speech she complains that “Nature meant” her to be “A Wife, a silly
harmless household Dove, / Fond without art; and kind without deceit”
(p. 47; V, 399), and although these lines can be misleading out of
context, they do nonetheless de-scribe her wishes accurately. In
spirit, if not in name, she is indeed a suffering wife: utterly
“true,” as Dryden describes her in the prologue, utterly without the
sexual independence which characterizes the heroines of Dryden’s
earlier plays. “She dotes, / She dotes . . . on this vanquish’d Man”
(p. 3; V, 346).
Alexas remarks, that she herself bewails “the curse / Of doting
on, ev’n when I find it Dotagel” (p. 63; V, 418). Although she
proclaims the heroism of this dotage and its simplicity (her love,
she insists, is “plain, direct and open”), the play’s “emphasis is
not upon the magnanimity of her fidelity but upon the hardships which
she must endure because of it. Her major scenes are those in which
she must face the loss of Antony, and in all them she proves herself
by the sincerity of her grief. When Dollabella pretends that Antony
has cast her off unkindly, “she sinks quite down” on the stage (p.
50; V, 402), and after her encounter with Octavia, she exits to a
“solitary Chamber,”
... to take alone • My fill of grief:
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There I till death will his unkindness weep As harmless Infants
moan themselves asleep. (p. 44; V, 395)
Cleopatra is heroic, worthy of Antony, not because she is a
queen, and a woman infinite in variety, but because she suffers and
deserves pity as she herself is quick to point out to Octavia:
Yet she who loves him best is Cleopatra. If you have suffer’d, I
have suffer’d more. You bear the specious Title of a Wife, To guild
your Cause, and draw the pitying World To favour it: the World
contemns poor me; For I have lost my Honour, lost my Fame, And
Stain’d the glory of my Royal House, And all to bear the branded Name
of Mistress. There wants but life, and that too I would lose For him
I love.
Love triumphs in her, and death is the vindication of her love,
and it is love transcendent, and so it is little troubled by the
brittle, finicky question of honour. She is the finest drawn
character in the play. She is the triumph of Dryden’s art. The title
of the play, All for Love, or The World Well Lost is appropriate only
in relation to Cleopatra. It is justified by Cleopatra’s invariable
love and the sacrifice she made for it.
Cleopatra is rightly the heroine of the play. She is all for love
and love absorbs her whole being and she cannot think of anything. It
is all’ transcending love. Her position is that of a mistress to
Antony. But she is more than that, and love raises her above the
position of a mistress. She is not artful, coquettish, lascivious as
a mistress should have been. She is rather characterized by modesty
and seemliness in all her dealings with Antony.
Octavia knows not her character. Ventidius wishes only to
separate Antony from Cleopatra, and is biased against her from the
beginning. Antony, though brought into the most intimate relation
110
with her, has not the understanding or insight to fathom the depth of
her being. Alexas knows too well that Cleopatra cannot disentangle
herself from her love for Antony. He remarks that she “dotes.....on
this vanquished man and winds herself about his mighty ruins ;” and
his opinion, is that she can save herself and her kingdom by giving
up Antony. Her love is unquestioning ; undeviating that she cannot be
the love of a mere mistress.
Cleopatras love is all-transcending, it is for such love that she
sacrifices her kingdom and herself. Ventidius gauges her as mistress
pure and simple. When he reports to Antony that Cleopatra has been
carrying on with Dolabella, he says :
I do not lie, my lord,
Is this so strange ? Should mistress be left,
And not provide against a time of change ?
You know she’s not much used to lonely nights. Cleopatra has not
the remotest intention of exchanging one lover for another. She would
not even save herself by casting off Antony when Antony had cast her
off. Alexas suggests that he can persuade Octavius to spare her life.
Cleopatra protests :
Base fawning wretch ! wbuldst thou betray, him too ?

Hence from my sight! I will not hear a traitor;
Twas thy design brought all this ruin on me. Alexas persuades her
to play with Dolabella so that she might make Antony jealous. A
mistress could have managed it all right. Later she confesses to
Antony:
Ah, what will not a woman do who loves ?

What means will she refuse, to keep that heart.
Where all her joys are placed ? ’Twas I encouraged,
’Twas I blew up the fire that scorched his soul,
To make you jealous, and by that regain you
But all in vain, I could not counterfeit:
In spite of all the dams my love broke o’er,
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And drowned my heart again.
The above words express her true and sincere love. Cleopatra is
f a r f r o m Octavia’s notion that she is “an abandoned faithless
prostitute.” It is an accident, and it is her misfortune that she has
the position of a mistress to Antony. But she bears him true, all
undying love. She might have better graced the position of a wife to
Antony. She asserts
Ah, no : my love’s so true,
That I can neither hide it where it is,
Nor show it where it is not. Nature meant me
A wife, a silly, harmless, household dove,
Fond without art, and kind without deceit;
But Fortune, that has made a mistress of me,
Has thrust me out to the wide world unfurnished
Of falsehood to be happy.
It is a pity that she has not been appreciated by anybody in the
play except by Charmion and Iras who are sincerely devoted to her.
With good reason she defends her love for Antony. When Octavia
accuses her with being the cause of Antony’s ruin, of his being
cheapened and scorned abroad, of his losing the battle of Acturn, and
all that, she replies :
Yet, she, who loves him best, is Cleopatra.

If you have suffered, I have suffered more.
You bear the specious title of a wife.
To guild your cause, and draw the pitying world
To favour it; the world condemns poor me.
For I have lost my honour, lost my fame
And stained the glojy of my royal house,
And all to bear the brand name of mistress,
There wants but life, and that too I would lose,
For him, I love.
It is the vindication of her love in the right strain. So much is
being made of Antony’s honour being at stake in his infatuation for
Cleopatra by Ventidius and Dolabella while Antony seems to be little
bothered about it. Cleopatra breathes but once of having sacrificed
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honour, fame and the dignity of her royal house for love. But honour
is not an issue with her, as it is supposed to be with Antony. Love
means everything to her; she lives and dies for love.
Commenting on Shakespeare’s Cleopatra Mrs. Jameson opines on the
features of her character “mental accomplishments, unequalled grace,
woman’s wit and woman’s wiles, irresistible allurements, starts of
irregular grandeur, bursts of ungovernable temper, vivacity of
imagination, petulant caprice, fickleness and falsehood, tenderness
and truth, childish susceptibility to flattery, magnificent spirit,
royal pride”.
Dryden’s Cleopatra is not such a complex character, so rich in
contradictions. Nor can we picture her as “one brilliant
impersonation of classified elegance, oriental voluptuousness, and
gypsy sorcery.” None of the subtlety, witchery, “infinite variety”
are displayed in Dryden’s Cleopatra. Though she does not w a n t i n
mental accomplishments, in grace or in womanly wit, to Shakespeare’s
Cleopatra she may, match her in love for Antony. Enobarbus, comments
“her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love.”
But Brandes notes the difference:
“This is literally true only that the love is not pure in the
sense “of being sublimated or unegoistic but in the sense of being
quintessential erotic emotion, chemically free from all the other
elements usually combined with it.” Cleopatra is a supreme creation
indeed a triumph of his art.
Cleopatra, urged by her maids to call reason to her aid, replies
that she has none, "and none would have." She has loved "with such
transcendent passion" that she has soared "quite out of reason's
view" and now is lost above it. She is incapable of thought and
depends on scheming Alexas to prescribe her course of action.
Cleopatra, the embodiment of love, whose being depends on Antony's,
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and who prefers death with him to life without him, is merely
pathetic.
5.7 OCTAVIA
Dryden regards Octavia as a sympathetic character who arouses
compassion. Octavia, is so well drawn as a “respectable” woman,
because it is her pride, her regard for honor in the form of her
reputation, which qualifies her “love” as something far more a vice
than the love of Antony and Cleopatra. Octavia is so undeniably self-
righteous that Antony does what man would do when he returns to
Cleopatra in Act 5. A good illustration of Octavia’s morality is her
plea: To quote,
Go to him. Children, go;
Kneel to him, take him by the hand, speak to him:
For you may speak, and he may own you too, .
Without a blush; and so he cannot all
His Children: go, I say, and pull him to me,
And pull him to your selves, from that bad Woman.
You, Agrippina, hang upon his arms;
And you, Antonia, clasp about his waist:
If he will shake you off, if he will dash you
Against the Pavement, you must bear it, Children;
For you are mine, and I was born to suffer, (p. 226)
The sudden intrusion of “virtue” into the scene may be morally
necessary, but Dryden makes it so much less attractive than the
compelling physical love affair that he is obviously aligning himself
with passion and against the reason and virtue he urges in his
preface. Even the sophisticated “serpent of the Nile” is dampened by
the overbearing virtue and becomes a pale shadow of Octavia:
Cleopatra, I have suffer’d more. / ‘You bear the
specious Title of a Wife, To guild your Cause, and draw the pitying
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World To favour it: the World condemns poor me;
(For I have(lost my- Honour, lost my Fame,
And stain’d the glory of my Royal House,
And all to bear the branded Name of Mistress,
There wants that life, and that too I would lose
For him I love. (p. 229)
She feels wronged and pities herself.
Octavia is introduced as the symbol of the family. Although she
speaks in the name of the Roman empire, her role in the play is
really defined by her domestic relationships: as a wife,: a s a
mother, and as a sister. She is an abused wife, ‘ and also she is
“well-natur’d”; she leaves Antony ; only after she has exacted from
him, from Ventidius, from Dollabella, from the audience, a full
measure of the thrills of domestic piety. Her reconciliation scene
with Antony is a paradigm of sentimental drama.
Octavia enters, “leading Antony’s two little Daughters” and she
and Antony stage a brief debate in what appears to be the old style,
“and strife of sullen Honour.” But she confesses her love, and as
Antony himself makes clear, the debate shifts from honor to pity.
“Pity,” he says, “pleads for Octavia; But does it not plead more for
Cleopatra?” Ventidius answers that ‘Justice and Pity both plead for
Octavia’ and Antony admits to ,a “distracted Soul.” The maudlin
resolution of the scene “is worth quoting at length:
Octav. Sweet Heav’n, compose it.

Come, come, my Lord, if I can pardon you,
Methinks you should accept it. Look on these;
Are they not yours? Or stand they thus neglected
As they are mine? Go. to him, Children, go;
Kneel to-him, take him by the hand, speak “to him,
For you may speak, and he may own you too,
Without a blush; and so he cannot all
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His Children: go, I say, and pull him to me,

And pull him to yourselves from that bad Woman.
You, Agrippa, hang upon his arms;
And you, Antonia, clasp about his waste:
If he will shake you off, if he will dash you
Against the Pavement, you must bear it, Children;
For you are mine, and I was born to suffer.
(Here the Children go to him, etc.)
Ven. Was ever sight so moving! Emperorl” Dolla. Friend!
Octav. Husbandl
Both Childr. Father!
Ant; I am vanquish’d: take me, Octavia; take me, Children;
share me all.
(Embracing them.)
I’ve been a thriftless Debtor to your loves,
And run out much, in riot, from your stock; But all shall
be amended.
Octav. O blest hour!
Dolla. O happy change 1
Ven. My joy stops at my tongue,
But it has found two channels here for one,
And bubbles out above.
Ant. to Octav. This is thy Triumph; lead me’where thou
wilt; Ev’n to thy Brother’s Camp.
Octav. All there are yours.
Octavia’s Marriage is a result of reconciliation between Antony
and Octavius. When Antony deserts her for Cleopatra, she is out for
revenge as reflected in the following words of Alexas.
His wife Octavia,

Driven from his house, solicits her revenge.
Later as per the request of Ventidius, she seems to have come on
a mission of peace and friendship. She raises the issue of honour
with:
I love your honour
Because ’tis mine: it never shall be said. Octavia’s husband was
her brother’s slave.
So she brings fair terms of friendship from Octavius. According
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t o h e r Antony is ; free to leave her. Octavia seems to be very
generous. It might be a policy with her after all. She says :
For, though, my brother bargains for your love, Makes me the
price and cement of your peace, I have a soul like yours; I cannot
take Your love as alms, nor beg what I deserve.
She strongly feels that she is being offered as a sacrifice to
the peace and friendship between her brother and husband. Though for
a short time Antonio surrenders to her, it appears that Antony is
going to own his friendship and his life to her duty. Octavia says
that when she had been denied her wifely right it is but proper that
she should leave him.
Antony is moved to the point of yielding, when Octavia draws her
two little daughters round Antony. They are to pull him away from
“that bad woman’ (Cleopatra), and pull him to her. Th e t r i c k
succeeds. Octavia has been used, and is still being used as pawn in
politics. And she is conscious of it, as it appears from her speech
here. However, Antony surrenders to his wife and daughters. They are
to take him, and share him all.
During her arguments with Cleopatra, she claims the virtue of a
modest wife as against “black endearments,” of Cleopatra who
enslaving him. Cleopatra, retorting Exclaims:
And, when I love not him, Heaven change this face
(her own face) For one like that (Octavia’s face).
And then she claims that she loves Antony best. To this Octavia
can make no suitable reply. Octavia boldly announces that she has
come to free Antony from bondage, who was once a Roman, but is now a
slave in Egypt. Cleopatra’s reply is very effective:
When he grew weary of that household clog, He chose my easier
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bonds.
Octavia’s seeming success is not for long. Ventidius incites
Octavia against Cleopatra by dilating on her irresistible charms from
which Antony cannot yet be safe, and when he tells her that Antony
is making terms of peace for Cleopatra with Octavius, she is
stiffened against Cleopatra. She declares that she will not allow
this “strumpet’s peace.”
If Antony is jealous of Dolabella, Octavia is jealous of
Cleopatra. She cannot bear to see the passion in her husband for an
abandoned, faithless prostitute.” Antony bids her leave him, and
there is a passionate outburst from her. The result is a final
breakoff between Antony and Octavia. And Ventidius realizes that he
has pushed the matter to extremes. His objective has been to separate
Antony from Cleopatra, but he succeeds in separating Octavia from
Antony for ever ; and he says:
I combat Heaven, which blasts my best designs :

My last attempt must be to win her back;
But oh ! I fear in vain.
5.8. VENTIDIUS
Ventidius argues for reason, he wants to do an unreasonable thing

because of his deep love for Antony. In terms of the morality of
Dryden’s preface, Ventidius’ idea is wrong; in the context of the
play itself, it seems admirable. We thus have between intention and
achievement a split, which, though minor presages more serious
difficulties. At the close of Act I, Ventidius’ persuasion is
temporarily victorious, and Antony returns to reason and honor: He
declares to Ventidius: “Our hearts and armes are still the same” (p.
203).
Ventidius is Antony’s general, and his great and devoted friend
too. He means well by Antony. He finds Antony languishing at the
court of Cleopatra after the battle of Actium, still a slave to the
enchantment of Cleopatra. He is determined to rescue Antony from the
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bad, degrading influence of Cleopatra, and makes him resume fighting
with Octavius who is in camp with his army in Alexandria.
Ventidius is clever and intelligent—and is good at persuading. He
appeals to Antony’s slumbering sense of honour. He invokes honour
again and again, for Antony seems to be little alive to it. Ventidius
thus addresses Antony:
You sleep away your hours In desperate sloth, miscalled
philosophy, Up, up, for honour’s sake; twelve legions wait for you.
And long to call you chief.
Persuading Antony to go to fight Octavius again, he is able to
push him and his army back a little, but they do not leave Alexandria
as yet. He is able to kindle in Antony to a sense of honour, but the
effect does not last long. He applies himself more seriously to the
task of rescuing Antony from the influence of Cleopatra. He is
determined to separate them, otherwise, as he believes, Antony will
not be his old self again.
It is no small credit to Ventidius that he finally rouses Antony
from his blank despair by alternately praising him and reproaching
him for indolence. He may indeed think highly of Antony and his
capabilities :
But you are love misled, your wandering eyes, Were sure the chief
and best of human race, Framed in the very pride and boast of
nature.”
However much his spirit is roused, Antony cannot still think of
severing himself from Cleopatra. If he is going to fight Octavius
again, he says:
“Caesar shall know what ’tis to force a lover From all he holds
most dear.”
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So after all the persuasion Ventidius exercises upon Antony, love
has the first place in his heart, and then comes honour. If Ventidius
has succeeded at all, it is that Antony admits honour as a rival
issue. H e enlists the services of Dolabella and Octavia to wean
Antony away from the influence of Cleopatra. Antony welcomes
Dolabella as his old friend and he too harps on honour, and says that
he brings terms from Octavius—and these terms, as it appears, have
been arranged by Octavia.
Ventidius’s plan is successful for a short time when he brings
Octavia. Antony surrenders to Octavia, and promises to break off his
relations with Cleopatra. Ventidius’s next move spoils the game. When
Dolabella is sent by Antony to bid farewell to Cleopatra for him,
Ventidius brings Octavia on to the scene. They watch from a distance
Dolabella kneeling to Cleopatra and pressing her hand—and Octavia is
led to believe that Dolabella is making love to her.
Ventidius to Antony, which is confirmed by Alexas who happens to
be present at the moment. The passion of jealousy roused in Antony
provokes Octavia, and there is final breakoff between Antony and
Octavia. So Ventidius succeeds in separating Antony from Octavia, and
not from Cleopatra.
Ventidius demonstrates his faith in, and devotion to Antony in

the last scene. When Antony has no alternative but to kill himself
after the desertion of the Egyptian fleet in his last fight with
Octavius, he makes a pact with Ventidius that he should kill him
first and then take his own turn, Ventidius breaks the pact and kills
himself first—and so. Ventidius proves to be an ideal Roman soldier
in his death.
Ventidius plays the role of the Chorus. To Ventidius, Antony,

before his love for Cleopatra ruined him, was "the lord of half
mankind," the "bravest soldier and the best of friends," and "the
chief and best of human race." To Ventidius he is still a "vast
soul," "all that's good and godlike." To Dolabella, Antony is still
''lord of all the world." To Cleopatra he is lover, lord, and hero, a
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"greater Mars." Antony himself reminds us of his former greatness,

when he was "the wish of nations," and "the meteor of the world."
Once he brags of the time when he stormed the heights before Cassius'
camp so eagerly that he won the trenches single-handed, while his
soldiers "lagged on the plain below." These constant reminders enlist
our sympathy and admiration for a former hero.
5.9. Dolabella
At the opening of the play, Dolabella, once a friend of Antony is
reported to be seeking his ruin, for “some private grudge.” But this
does not turn out to be true. Later, Ventidius brings in Dolabella
and Antony welcomes him as his old friend. There was but a temporary
misunderstanding between Antony and Dolabella over Cleopatra, for
Dolabella too was attracted by Cleopatra. Antony alludes to it when
they meet again now. Dolabella has no guile ! He is frank and candid—
and this is the best thing we find in him :
And should my weakness be a plea for yours ?
Mine was an age when love might be excused,
When kindly warmth, and when my springing youth Made it a debt to
nature.
It is a very sensible report to Antony. Dolabella supports
Ventidius, and reproaches Antony with his degrading love for
Cleopatra which has cost him his manhood :
Twas but myself I lost; I lost no legions :

I had nb world to lose, no people’s love.
So Dolabella wants to waken in Antony his slumbering sense of
honour and his palsied manhood. As organized by Octavia he brings
terms from Octavius and they are quite honourable to Antony.
Dolabella is soft and sensitive by nature. When Antony wants to
send him to Cleopatra to bid farewell for him, he pleads to be
excused :
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I should speak
So faintly with such fear to grieve her heart, She’d not believe
it earnest.
He feels sorry for Antony; it seems that at the instigation of
Ventidius he has tried to stir up Antony’s spirit and alienate him
from Cleopatra. Now he feels that he should not have blamed his
friend’s love, and wishes that he were Antony, to be so ruined. In
the meantime, Cleopatra has been instructed by Alexas to excite
Antony’s jealousy by encouraging Dolabella to make love to her.
Dolabella, encouraged by the hint from Cleopatra that “love may
be expelled by other love,” is caught unawares, and frames the
parting message of Antony in the harshest words. And the shock is too
much for Cleopatra. Then Dolabella goes down on his knees and
confesses that he had been a traitor for the love of her and reported
wrongly of his friend, Antony, and now begs her forgiveness.
Dolabella loses his good name with Antony as the result of
Cleopatra too openly admitting her own part in kindling love in him.
The scene is witnessed by Ventidius and Octavia, and when it is
reported to Antony, he is inflamed with jealousy. Both Dolabella and
Cleopatra make an unreserved confession to Antony, but he will not
listen to reason. This episode produces serious consequence such as.
Dolabella’s loss of fair name, final breakoff between Antony and
Octavia, Antony’s estrangement from Cleopatra. For a l l t h i s ,
Ventidius and Alexas are responsible. If Dolabella has any fault, it
is his sentimentalism, and he becomes the victim of a shady intrigue.
Dolabells holds an important position in the court of Cleopatra
and Cleopatra often follows his advice. He is devoted to Cleopatra
and he is concerned about the dubious position of Cleopatra now that
Antony has fallen from his fortune—the battle of Actium being lost,
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and Octavius with his army stationed in Alexandria.
5.10. ALEXAS
Alexas speaks as the man of unimpassioned reason:
“You [Cleopatra] misjudge; You see through Love, and that deludes
your sight:” As what is strait, seems crooked through the Waiter;
But I, who bear-my reason undisturbed can see this Antony.
He is an u n d i s t u r b e d m a n of reason, and is ironically,
“unmanned,” a eunuch; and if this speech is designed to identify him
with reason, then his later failures—his- counsels to Cleopatra in
Act V to negotiate with Caesar, is lie to Antony, his scheme to make
Antony jealous have the effect of discrediting reason. He “sees
through reason” and his sight is deluded.
Alexas as the perpetrator of poetic justice, the “punishment”
inflicted upon the lovers. But then the whole problem of sympathies
and motiva^ tions in the play becomes confused because Alexas is the
least sympa-1 thetic character in the play and is, as such, a poor
instrument of justice. His lies are a dramatic weakness.
5.11. STYLE AND TECHNIQUE
T h e p l a y has moments of grandeur and some of Dryden’s most
intense poetry; some have even believed that if Shakespeare had never
written, it would be one of the most impressive monuments of English
drama. But this study suggests that the play is full of confusions:
the conclusion of the play endorses passionate love, though earlier
in the play, and in the: preface, passionate love is condemned as
unreasonable and therefore immoral; the inevitability of the action
is marred because the catastrophe is brought about by an accident;
the role of reason in the play; is ambiguous. Clearly the play is not
what it has been called (by Dobree, Restoration Tragedy, 1929, p.
123
90): a play which “has a co-herence, a direction to one end, in a
word, a unity.”
Antony’s love is presented in the words of one recent critic, as
“a suitable enterprise for a hero. The heroism of All for Love is
subverted at every turn by sentimental effects which emphasize not
the heroic glory_of love, but ..its. domesticity and compassion.
Dryden is explicit in the prologue. The author, he writes:
fights this day unarm’d; without his Rhyme.
And brings a Tale which often has been told;
As sad as Dido’s; and almost as old.
His Heroe, whom you Wits his Bully call,
Bates of his mettle; and scarce rants at all:
He’s somewhat lewd; but a well-meaning mind;
Weeps much; fights little; but is wond’rous kind.
In short, a Pattern, and Companion fit,
For all the keeping Tonyes of the Pit,
I cou’d name more: A Wife, and Mistress too;
Both (to be plain) too good for most of you:
The Wife well-natur’d, and the Mistress true.
The weeping of the men in All for Love is especially conspicuous.
Antony cries three times onstage (V, 353, 388, 417) and once his
“falling tear” is reported (V. 362). Dollabella cries when Antony
exiles him (V, 417) and even Ventidius cries twice, once in grief for
Antony (V, 352) and once in joy over Antony’s family reunion (V,
390).
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The following views of Hazelton Spencer highlight the
“technical excellence in the play. It seems to me more apparent than
real. There is a unity of action, certainly, but it is of the most
artificial kind. As a matter of fact, the. play is a series of
confrontations between Antony and Ventidius, Antony and Alexas,
Antony and Cleopatra, Antony and Octavia, Octavia and Cleopatra. One
scene does not grow out of another, or out of characterization; the
action is essentially arbitrary with the dramatist, not spontaneous
with the characters. And the style is rarely good enough to redeem
this defect, as it so often is redeemed in Racine.”
Characterization (this is the play’s most grievous fault) has
been dedicated to the great principle of consistency. Antony is a
sentimentalist; Cleopatra’s degradation at Dryden’s hands is even
more pitiful. Shakespeare’s great psychological portrait of the queen
and woman is turned to the wall in favor of the puppet of a ruling
passion. The complex human being, with her infinite variety, gives
place to a lay figure of Woman in Love. •
The unity of place is likewise achieved by arbitrary measures;
the poet does not even trouble to excuse his characters for appearing
so promptly and so pat. They saunter in and saunter out from the four
quarters of the Mediterranean world, as if their leisure hours were
habitually passed in wandering up and down the streets of Alexandria.
Poetic justice is not respected except in the death of the hero and
heroine. Violence on the stage is permitted in the deaths of five of
the characters. Of comedy, even of ironic comedy, there is none;
there is no wishing her joy of the worm.
The influence of the heroic drama is powerful in this play, as it
is in Dryden’s alteration of Troilus and Cressida. The heroics not
infre-quently pass over into the extreme absurdities of that derided
form, yet the passion is rarely wild or indecorous. Even the diction,
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the best thing in the play, is for the most part smooth and flowing.
There is rant in profusion, but the daring homeliness, which makes so
many of Shakespeare’s metaphors so impressive, is never indulged in.
A s P r o fessor Saintsbury points out, there is nothing like
Cleopatra’s Peace, peace:
Dost thou not see my Baby at my breast,
That suckes the Nurse asleepe?
which, he continues, “no poet save Shakespeare since the
foundation of the world, would or could have written.”
Judged by what he conceived a tragedy ought to be and by what he
tried to accomplish with his source, the author of All for Love
achieved a remarkable tour de force. No one in his senses desires to
deny to the great name of Dryden one scruple’of the praise that such
an accomplishment deserves. But our admiration for its author’s
genius does not oblige us to like this play or, for more than a
moment in the fifth act, to believe in it.
The views of T. S. Eliot on Dryden’s blank verse herewith
cited. “As for the verse of ‘All for Love’ and the best of Dryden’s
blank verse in the other plays in which he used it, it is to me a
miracle of revivification. I think that it has more influence than it
has had credit for; and that it is really the norm of blank verse for
later blank verse playwrights.”
Dryden’s rendering there is nothing to say except that it has
none of the poetic a n d life of the original. It is accomplished
verse, and verse that lends itself to stage-delivery, but it is
hardly poetry. It is not poetry, in the sense that it is not the
product of a realizing imagination working from within a deeply and
minutely felt theme. Dryden is a highly skilled craftsman, working at
his job from the outside. The superior structure with which his play
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is credited as a theater-piece is a matter of work-manship of the
same external order as is represented by his verse. He aims at
symmetry, a neat and obvious design, a balanced arrangement of heroic
confrontations and ‘big scenes.’ The satisfaction he offers his
audience is that of an operatic exaltation and release from
actuality, a ballet-like completeness of pattern, and an elegantly
stylized decorum.
The structure, it will be seen, is always that of simple,
illustrative, point-by-point correspondence. One analogy may give way
to another, and so again, but the shift is always clean and obvious;
there is never any complexity, confusion or ambiguity. When there is
development, it is simple, lucid and rational.
This habit of expression manifests plainly the external approach,
the predominance of taste and judgment. It is an approach equally
apparent in the treatment of emotion in what are meant to be the
especially moving places—as, for instance, in the scene in which
Octavia and the children are loosed upon Antony:
Antony: Oh, Dollabella, which way shall I turn? I find a secret
yielding in my Soul; But Cleopatra, who would die with me, Must she
be left? Pity pleads for Octavia But does it not plead more for
Cleopatra?
(Here the Children go to him, etc.) Ventidius: Was ever sight
so movingl Emperorl Dollabella: Friend. Octavia: Husbandl Both
Children: Father! Antony: I am vanquished: take me,
Octavia; take me, Children; share me all.
(Embracing them).
Commenting on the scene Morris Freedman s a y s , “The emotion
doesn’t emerge from a given situation realized in its concrete
particualrity; it is stated, not presented or enacted. The
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explicitness is of the kind that betrays absence of realization.”
Antony is depicted, like Samson, as a man bereft of hw masculine
strength.
Oh, she has decked his ruin with her love,
Led him in golden bands to gaudy slaughter,
And made perdition pleasing: She has left him
The blank of what he was.
6
I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him. (I, i)
Dryden follows the unities of time and place, and has
conse-quently to limit the number of characters and incidents, and
avoid any entanglements.
The first Act has but one scene, and so has every other Act. This
has been done to make sure of the unities of time and place.
All for Love is soundly plotted, the characters are fully
developed, and the verse is dramatic, vigorous, and flexible. The
conflict is between love and reason, heart and head. A t t h e
beginning of the play Antony has lost his reason; he has dis graced
"the name of soldier with inglorious ease." It is Ventidius' function
to make him see his plight rationally and to act according to the
dictates of reason. But Ventidius can never be sure of Antony, w h o
acts, now rationally, now impulsively, as his passions spin the plot.
As the play opens, Antony is already so far sunk in the

lethargy of love that his flashes of strength seem like the false
shows of health in a dying consumptive. But neoclassic limitations
gave little space for slow decline, and if terror is diminished, pity
is increased by the exposure of Antony's weakness and suffering.
5.12. Features of Heroic Play
The Heroic play is otherwise called the Heroic Tragedy, It
128
arose first as reaction to Shakespeare because it was felt that

nothing more could be done with the Shakespearean type of tragedy,
and if they wanted rally to excel and do something new, they must
explore fresh fields.
It arose mainly to satisfy the social, moral and artistic needs

of the age and it lived so long as it satisfied those needs. Dryden
defined it, “as an imitation, in little of an heroic poem”. H e
noticed the great affinity between the two genres the end is the
same, the characters are the same, the action and passions are the
same. But the epic poet uses narration while the heroic play used
action and dialogue for the purpose.
The heroic play was invested with, “the greatness and majesty
of a heroic poem”. It was not to hold merely a mirror to nature but
to magnify reality. It was the representation of nature but nature
raised to a higher pitch. The plot, the characters, the passions, the
descriptions were all to be exalted above thelevel of common
converse. The style was also to be made epical. It was not to imitate
conversation of real life too closely, since sublime subjects ought
to be adorned with the sublimest expressions.The purpose of the
Heroic play was not to arouse, “pity, and fear” but admiration.
Dryden emphasised three virtues, Valour, Duty and Love, for

which the poet should arouse admiration. The dramatist must present
“patterns of virtues” in his plays.The most impressive feature of the
heroic play is the hero who is superman and in whom are emboided the
typically romantic qualities of Love and Valour. Valour is the
outstanding trait of his character. He is a great warrior and he
sweeps across the world in quest of glory and honour. He performs
incredible feats, conquering a few million soldiers is a mere trifle
for him. But he is not a mere men-killer, he is also a lover of
extraordinary emotional capacity. His love is so sudden and intense
that it surprises everybody including himself.
He throws away the entire universe in the pursuit of his love.

The audience is amazed at such superhuman devotion and loyalty.
Moreover, this love is not a mere physical passion it is a virtue,
heroic passion. It kindles in the soul honour’s fire, and so the
lover is eager to be worthy of his desire. To be worthy of his
beloved, he must be a man of honour and honour includes all possible
moral and spiritual qualities. Heroic love purifies the hero of all
base desire and makes him a fit object of admiration.
129
But love does not arouse only admiration, it also arouses

compassion. It involves so much pining and whiming on the part of the
lover that in the true romantic tradition he is always on the verge
of dying. This lethargy of love is the only weakness on the great
hero. It paralyses his will. It makes him a captive helpless and
pitiable. He fawns on, and flatters, his beloved, and faints and
swoons. He passes from love to jealousy from hope to despair from
crisis to crisis.
Because the heroic tragedy arouses only “admiration” and

“compassion” an unhappy ending was not considered appropriate or
necessary for it. There is no place for tragic awe and sense of<
waste in the heroic play : Dryden discarded the unhappy ending. The
aim of the playwright was to extol some great hero and this naturally
made and happy ending quite unsuitable. Heroic play is a play
offering one sensation after another, arousing hopes and fears and at
last making the event happy to the infinite surprise and wonder of
the audience. The hero does not die in the end. He is virtuous, and
so virtue must be rewarded. It is only then that the people would
follow the virtuous example of the hero. Poetic justice was,
therefore, considered necessary in the interest of moral edification.
Sensationalism is an essential feature of the heroic play. This

admiration in the heroic play is not aroused merely by the
contemplation of the virtues of the hero, it is also here physical
wonder at the sight of the strange, the marvellous and the terrible.
Ghosts, spirits, operatic elements, scenic effects, stirring action,
bustle and turmoil, were all used to dazzle and stupefy the
contemporary novelty seeking audience. The theme is taken from past
history so that the dramatist may claim more reality for his
absurdity. The setting is always foreign and unfamiliar, and the time
remote, and in this way the dramatists try to procure, “willing
suspension of disbelief for the incredible in their plays.
To depict sudden turns of fortune and to provide theatrical

effectiveness, the heroic play gives prominence to martial action. It
also employs elements of the opera to provide thrill and spectacle to
the audience. There are songs and dances, angles and spirits, ample
measure. Scenes of horror and bloodshed are frequent.
Reaction against the manifold extravagances of the heroic play

began quite early. The heroic play could provide romance and heroism,
but it could not meet any larger demands. Soon there was a longing
130
for nature and reality. Its artificiality, its improbability, its

extravagance, its lack of genuine human passion, doomed it to an
early and natural death.
5.13. ALL FOR LOVE AS A HERIOC PLAY
The Heroic Play usually called itself a tragedy but preserved

the hero’s life. Antony on the other hand, as Dryden points out, has
a flaw, and dies. But the exception proves the rule, for Antony’s
one human frailty proves by contrast that he is otherwise superhuman:
Virtue is his path; but sometimes it is too narrow for his

vast soul; and then he starts out wide, And bounds into a vice, that
bears him far from his first course, and plunges him in ills: But,
when his danger makes him find his fault, Quick to observe, and full
of sharp remorse, He censures eagerly his own misdeeds, Judging
himself with malice to himself, And not forgiving what as man he did,
Because his other parts are more than man.
Indeed, by the standards of the Heroic Play, this makes Antony

a superman, for the ordinary superman is merely content with virtue.
Characteristic of Antony is a superman who nevertheless whines; he
gives All for love after a series of struggles with duty, each of
which takes up an Act, and, turn and turn about, gains a temporary
mystery, the whole suggesting a formal debate rather than a play
which rises to and falls from a central climax. The setting is in
the near East. But it is not either in theory or effect a strict
example.
Moreover, Antony “fights little”. Not of course from lack of

valour but from the policy of curbing heroics hard in this play.
There is the usual state of siege, convenient for the hero’s army-
killing excursions and for saving appearances in the matter of the
unity of time, but Antony is allowed only one Hotspur sally, and even
then Ventidius pours cold water on his exultation.
‘Tis well; and he, Who lost them, could have spared ten
thousand more.
Use of verbal hyperbole is a significant feature. Ventidius’

theory that Antony’s vice proceeds from the unmanageable size of his
virtue is one of the few parallels to Almanzor’s stand off; I have
not leisure yet to die or
131
It (the bull’s head) fell so quick, it did even Death prevent

: And made imperfect Bellowings as it went
The ruminations on life which occur often enough in the strict

Heroic Plays are absent from All for Love, as is everything else not
bearing on the situation, including the songs, Concomitantly the
structure has been tightened.
A Restoration tragedy like All for Love depends for its effect
not on character interest or on situation, and least of all on
exploit. The last is always off stage, and the others are
contrivances for exhibitions, in fine rhetoric, of emotions which,
although they are in All for Love invariably pertinent to situation
and role, are there for their own sake.
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5.14. HIGH TRAGEDY
For nearly three centuries critical opinion has agreed that

Dryden's All for Love, or The World Well Lost (December, 1677) is the
best example of Restoration high tragedy.
In conformity with the neoclassic unities and the vogue for

heroic plays, Dryden limited the action to a single straightforward
conflict between love and honor — or reason. To achieve unity of
place he set the action in one catch-all building, the Temple of
Isis, and by carefully avoiding any mention of time lie managed to
give the impression that the ideal time of the play was not more than
the permissible twenty-four hours/ The neoclassic critics objected to
the delightful slanging 'match between Cleopatra and Octavia as
indecorous because both were great characters of high rank. With
sublime common sense Dryden replied that, though one was a Roman and
the other a queen, "they were both women."
In All for Love we see the final downfall of Antony, a veteran

hero, is the mere "shadow of an emperor"; he has almost lost his
ability to reason and decide. Dryden, a master plotter, worked out
his conflicts and climaxes with almost mathematical precision. Thus
i n A c t one, honest Ventidius, the embodiment of honor and reason,
persuades Antony to leave Cleopatra and join twelve loyal legions
waiting for him in Syria. Alexandria is besieged by Caesar, but there
are still ways open. In Act two, Cleopatra, whose love is "a noble
madness," persuades Antony to remain with her, and Ventidius
complains, O women! women! women! all the gods Have not such power of
doing good to man As you of doing harm!
In Act three, Ventidius, aided by Antony's wife, Octavia, and

their two children, and by Antony's young friend, Dolabella, per-
suades Antony to desert Cleopatra and make peace with Caesar. In a
contrived but very effective scene, Antony stands alone. His two
little daughters run to him and throw their arms about him. Then
VENTIDIUS. Was ever sight so moving? — Emperor! DOLABELLA. Friend!
OCTAVIA. Husband! CHILDREN. Father! ANTONY. I am vanquished. Take
me,
Octavia — take me, children — share me all.
Embracing, them.
I've been a thriftless debtor to your loves,
And run out much, in riot, from your stock,
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In Act four, nobody wins. On tbe advice of her prime minister,

the eunuch priest Alexas, Cleopatra tries to make Antony jealous of
Dolabclla and succeeds all too well. Octavia, angered at Antony's
concern for "an abandoned, faithless prostitute," flings away in a
huff, breaking off negotiations with Caesar; and, in a fury, Antony
rebuffs both Cleopatra and Dolabella. Now he is left with only
faithful Ventidius to share his wretchedness.
In Act five, the Egyptian fleet deserts to Caesar. Antony and

Ventidius have just decided to sally out with the remnant of their
forces and die bravely in battle, when Alexas, carrying out another
scheme to reunite the lovers, brings the false news of Cleopatra's
death. Completely unmanned, Antony cries,
My torch is out; and the world stands before me Like a black

desert at tV approach of night. I'll lay me down and stray no farther
on.
Ventidius, called on to slay his master, instead kills

himself. Antony falls on his sword. Cleopatra and her women find him
dying, and seat him in a chair. He sings his swan song in melodious
blank verse, dies, and Cleopatra, with her basket of "'aspics,"
quickly follows him in death. As a mob enters the temple, they see
the lovers seated together in somber state. Serapion, a priest,
pronounces their benediction:
Sleep, blest pair,
Secure from human chance, long ages out, While all the storms
of fate fly o'er your tomb;
And fame to late posterity shall tell, No lovers lived so

great or died so well.
No doubt All for Love is a magnificent tragedy, and yet

perhaps it is a too well contrived, too coldly classical in form and
style. Possibly the conflict is too mechanically balanced, the
"moral" too obvious. "The chief persons represented," said Dryden in
his preface to the play, "were famous patterns of unlawful love; and
their end accordingly was unfortunate." Yet, as his second title, The
World Well Lost, suggests, Dryden hedged on his thesis. He seems to
ask us, in effect, to forgive his lovers' faults and to blame their
fate on the circumstances of their world. The "famous patterns of
134
unlawful love" are not presented as sinners or adulterers; indeed,

the word "sin" appears in connection with them only once in the play,
when Octavia accuses Cleopatra of owning "those black endearments
that make sin pleasing." Adultery is never mentioned.
Political necessity forces Antony to marry Octavia (Caesar's

sister) after the death of his first wife, Fulvia. He never loved
Octavia; he loved only Cleopatra, whom Dryden depicts, not as the
"serpent of old Nile," but as a sweet, good, beautiful woman meant by
Nature to be a wife, "a silly, harmless, household dove." Cleopatra
is aware that she has lost her honor and "stained the glory" of her
royal house "to bear the branded name of mistress," but Antony seems
unaware that he has done anything wrong, that he has broken a moral
law and must pay the penalty. Instead he blames his own sloth and the
gods, crying in his despair, "Is there one god unsworn to my
destruction?" In the
inal scene, as the blood drains from his body, he whispers to

Cleopatra,
Think we have had a clear and glorious day, And Heaven did
kindly to delay the storm Just till our close of evening. Ten years'
love, And not a moment lost, but all improved " To the utmost joys —
what ages have we lived! And now to die each other's; and, so dying,
While hand in hand we walk in groves below, Whole troops of lovers'
ghosts shall flock about us, And all the train be ours.
From Antony there is no word of remorse, regret, or repent-

ance.
5.15. SHAKESPEARE AND DRYDEN
An examination of the immediate cause of the tragedy as compared
with that in Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra can be useful in
illustrating this weakness of All for Love. We should not judge
Dryden’s play a failure because it does not do thing s t h a t
Shake-speare’s does; it is a different play, conceived with
considerable differ-ent dramatic intentions. But in both plays the
lovers die, and die within the dramatic framework of the tragedy.
In Shakespeare’s play the tragedy of Antony and Cleopatr a i s
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brought about almost wholly by the love affair; all through the play
we feel the awful compulsion of this love forcing them to their
inevitable end. Dryden gave to the early part of his play the same
im-pression of inexorability. But the destruction later of Antony and
Cleopatra is not occasioned by their love alone. Instead, the
motivation for their deaths, the quarrel which leads to the suicide
of Antony, is the result of the blundering lies and machinations of
the well-meaning Alexas, who is not directly involved in the love
affair. Specifically, it is his lie to Antony about Cleopatra’s death
which causes Antony to kill himself and later Cleopatra to do the
same.
Although there is a similar chain of events in Shakespeare’s
play, there Cleopatra agrees to Charmian’s subterfuge, hiding in the
monument, the false suicide; whereas in All for Love Alexas on his
own initiative tells the lie which sets off the chain of forces. Thus
he assumes the immediate responsibility for the deaths, which are not
the inevitable result of the love affair but the result of a casual
mischance (the mistake due, ironically, to Alexas’ faith in reason).
The action moves from the lovers’ entangling themselves in inexorable
fate to a simple accident, not caused by the lovers themselves.
“Shakespeare’s have a life corresponding to the life of the
verse; the life in them is, in fact, the life of the verse.
Correspondingly, his poem as drama—in situation, larger rhythm,
cumulative effect—has an actuality, a richness and a depth in
comparison with which it becomes absurd to discuss Dryden’s play as
tragedy. It is, of course, understood that in a sustained reading
Shakespeare’s poetry conveys an organization such as cannot be
examined in an extracted passage” remarks T.S. Eliot.
“The point may be fairly coercively made by an observation
regarding what, in Dryden’s verse, takes the place of the life of
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metaphor and imagery in Shakespeare’s. What we find, when we can put
a finger on anything, is almost invariably either a formal simile, or
a metaphor that is a simile with the ‘like’ or the ‘as’ left out. The
choice is so wide and the showing so uniform that illustration must
be random.”
In the words of Ifor Evans “ Dryden indulged in no slavish
imitation of Shakespeare’s play, though the composition shows again
Dryden’s admiration for Shakespeare. Dryden breaks down the widely
distributed scenes of Shakespeare and brings the theme as close to
the unity of action as its nature will permit. The picture of Antony
is less generous than in Shakespeare, for the emphasis is on the very
last phase, full of fretting and nerves and morbid suspicion. Nor has
Cleopatra the ‘infinite variety’ that she once possessed. Antony and
Cleopatra was the play in which Shakespeare approached the Values of
the Restoration stage most closely, for this is the only one of his
mature tragedies in which love is made the dominant theme. All for
Love, of all Dryden’s plays, is the one in which the Restoration
motives of love and honor are subordinated, and their place taken by
suspicion and jealousy.
Dryden’s Antony is far closer to Milton’s Samson, as is his
Cleopatra to Dalila, and Ventidius to the chorus, than they are to
their counterparts in Shakespeare’s tragedy. But the tempestuous,
mighty-spirited, mature lovers of Shakespeare were transformed by
Dryden to resemble the far simpler, more predictable figures of
Samson and Dalila. For example, he pruned and trimmed Enobarbus'
florid description of Cleopatra as she came down the Nile in her
barge, changing its archaisms and deleting its pathetic fallacies to
fit the Restoration taste for the language of direct statement. Thus
Enobarbus' verdict on Cleopatra.
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety.
Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where
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most she satisfies became in Dryden's hands Antony's "refined"

apostrophe to his mistress,
There's no satiety of love in thee: Enjoyed, thou still art

new; perpetual spring Is in thy arms; the ripened fruit but falls And
blossoms rise to fill its empty place, And I grow rich by giving.
Dryden glossed over the conclusion of Enobarbus' description,

For vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish. Dryden's Cleopatra was never wanton.
Shakespeare dramatized the entire Antony and Cleopatra story as told
by Plutarch, while Dryden concentrated on the final events in the
tale, after Antony's defeat by Octavius Caesar at Actium.
5.16 LET US SUM UP
Through this lesson we have learnt the following.
1) Dryden’s life and works.
2) Plot – Construction
3) Theme of “All for Love”
4) Important Characters of All for love.
5) Styles and techniques of Dryden.
6) Features of Heroic play etc.
5.17 Lesson-End Activities
1. Write an essay on the character of Antony.
2. Compare and contrast Cleopatra and Octavia.
3. What is the significance of the role of ventidius?
4. Consider All for Love as a heroic play?
5.18 References
· Emerson Everett H., Harold E. is, and Ira Johnson “Intention

and Achievement in All for Love”
· Kirsch, Arthur C., All for Love from Dryden’s Heroic Drama
Princeton, N/J.: Princeton Univer-ify Press, 1965.
· Spencer Hazelton, From “Dryden’s Adaptations” in Shakespeare

Improved (Cambridge, Mass.: Har-vard University Press.
· Eliot T . S . F r o m “Dryden the Dramatist” by From The

Listener, V, No. 119 \ April 22, 1931,
· Leavis F. R. F r o m “ ‘Antony and Cleopatra1 and ‘All for

Love”: A Critical Exercise” by From Scrutiny, V, No. 2
September
138
139
Unit – III
Lesson – 6
Francis Bacon
Contents
6.1 Bacon's Life and Works
6.2 Of Ambition
6.3 Of Revenge
6.4 Of Love
6.5 Bacon’s Regard for Structure
6.6 Poetic Qualities
6.7 Bacon's Use of Allusions and References
6.8 Let Us Sum Up
6.10 References
This lesson talks about Francis Bacon. You will

understand, by reading this lesson, the life and
works of Francis Bacon and his use of concenities as
reflected in his works.
6.1 Bacon's Life and Works
Francis Bacon was the younger son of Sir Nicholas

Bacon who held the high position of Lord Keeper of
the Great Seal of the King-a political office, and
was born in the city of London on January 22nd 1561.
To hold his high office, his father must have been an
educated and cultured courtier but even more
140
surprising it is to find that his mother also was

highly educated in Latin and English and made a
scholarly translation of Jewel's Apology for the
Church of England which was written in Latin into
English. Francis was sent to Trinity College,
Cambridge, where the education was at that time in
Greek and Latin but where the spirit of the new
learning had begun to establish itself to such an
extent that the works-especially, the scientific
treatises-of Aristotle were being called in question.
After graduation, be entered Gray's Inn to study Law,
and he went to Paris in the company of the ambassador
Sir Amyas Paulet, since travel on the continent of
Europe was considered at that time the final touches
to the education of a gentleman and a courtier.
Unfortunately his father died suddenly, and he had to
return to England without spending much time abroad.
But prepared for a political career by being elected
to Parliament at the early age of 23. He soon made
his mark in Parliament because of his sharp intellect
and oratorical ability, and was called upon to draw
up a Treatise of Advice to Queen Elizabeth at the age
of 24. He then became a Bencher (a Magistrate) in
Gray's Inn, but failed to secure any better political
post.)
Francis Bacon, being a younger son, did

not inherit an estate from his father and had to
make his own way in the world. He was relationship
o f s e l f -giving love. He deals with them in a
utilitarian sense. Though he values them highly it
seems clear that he has not experienced such
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closeness himself. There seems to be a pre-occupation

with the self-rather than with the other. This
selfishness and self-regard mark the tone of these
essays. The same is also true with regard to his
essays on religion. Bacon is lacking in what we may
term as religious fervour. His religion is not of the
heart or soul, but of the mind. So he does not think
of what religion means to the human soul, but to the
live community of mankind on this earth. He is
thinking of religion in human terms even when he
thinks of death so he leaves out any mention of life
after death or resurrection. We may safely conclude
that religion of the more fervent kind played no part
in his life it was all a matter of belief, and of
human relationships and morality-a path to follow,
not a heaven to aspire to.
Essays filled with thought so massive could

only be written by Bacon; and in this respect, the
earliest of English Essayist still stands alone. Yet
the massive thought we poured into a style that has
been unrivalled as well-a style suited to the
shortest and briefest of meditations, and stately and
dignified enough to convey the deepest ideas.
Baconian lucidity has become a byword in English, but
the essays have still to be read slowly to allow the
mind to grasp the concept and the progression of
ideas-The style suits itself to the simple as well as
the profound, it can be .used in any situation and so
is completely flexible. Some of the best English
prose is suited only to highly emotive passages, or
to lofty oratory—but Bacon's style is a 'style for
142
all seasons'.
6.2 Of Ambition
Ambition gives a strong motivation to a man,

unless it is frustrated. If man's ambition is
frustrated then ambition turns to evil, and becomes
venomous. So an ambitious man who is given an
opportunity is an asset, but a frustrated man is a
danger.
Since ambitious men have the necessary drive

and motivation for achievement, Kings and rulers
should make use of their gift. Ambitious men make the
best soldiers and generals; they are also useful
courtiers in order to provide rivalry and competition
among them. The King can encourage one at one time,
and another later. So that one does not get all the
time. Positions of danger and envy are best offered
to ambitious men as they will be bold enough to take
them and make the most of them. Here he probably
means foreign embassies and such political mission.
One ambitious courtier may also be used to pull down
another who is getting too powerful, as in the case
of Macro, whom Tiberius the Roman Emperor used to
pull down Sejanus. So it has been shown that
ambitious men are useful to the state-it now remains
to see how best they can be used without causing
trouble.
Men of low birth who have been raised to high

positions are less troublesome and more easily
controlled since they have more to lose. Men of good
and pleasant natures are better than men of harsh and
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hard dispositions. It is better to keep changing the

power structure, thus getting in fresh blood e v e r y
now and then, instead of allowing one man to hold a
dominant position for too long.
So Kings should change their favourites

frequently. I t i s a weakness in a monarch to keep a
single favourite too long. Another method is to
encourage competition between rival men or rival
groups, so that both parties are kept guessing, and
none gets any monopoly of favour. Kings should also
show some favour to men of lower birth, and greater
steadiness to keep the balance of power.
Those who have a single ambition are better

than those who desire to shine in every sphere.
Constant competition among those in the lower ranks
to rise is a good thing, either in politics or in
business. These men should be ambitious for honour,
which is the safest, for it holds them to morality
and makes them bold to their positions in society. A
good King will be able to pick out men whose
ambitions are good, and whose intentions are to serve
his King and country.
I n c h o o s i ng ministers particularly, rulers

should be careful to choose such men as are anxious
to serve, and not merely to build their own selfish
profits. If it is in the military services the men
chosen should be brave, not for personal but for
national glory, if it is in business the man should
be conscious of service to the country as well as
serve his own profit. One way of finding such people
144
is test and see whether they are willing to obey

commands and offer services.
In this essay, Bacon shows himself to be a

shrewd judge of courtiers, generals, and businessmen.
He seems to understand how to make the best use of
able men who are ambitious for themselves, and to use
them for the service of the country. He shows himself
to be farsighted statesmen. It is noteworthy that he
takes a very detached view of the subject even though
he himself was in the very positions that he
describes. He was a poor man who had to be patient
and even frustrated for a long time before he
obtained recognition. Yet he looks at the problem
from a detached standpoint and is able to make a
number of points that a good manager in a large
company today, as well as a chief minister in a state
of a government, may find useful. Bacon is an expert
in assessing situation and men and finding who would
fit the problem to be solved, best
6.3 OF REVENGE
Revenge is a crude form of justice and it

usurps the function of law. So it should be our
foremost duty to stop the practice by legal steps.
Actually there is no superiority in taking revenge,
Rather, to condone is princely virtue. Wise men do
not trouble themselves thinking of past bitterness.
No one does wrong for the wrong’s sake. Every wrong
doer is motivated by a strong self interest. If any
man does wrong without any motive, it is because
cannot help it, it is in his nature.
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Revenge is sometimes tolerable for those wrongs

which are not legally punishable, but the avenger
must sea that his revenge is not unlawful. Noble
revenge is that which is open and bold. But cowards
are sneaking mischief makers. Enemies may be
forgiven, as Jesus has commanded us, but Cosmos holds
that treachery from friends is unpardonable. Job
remarks that we should accept both good and bad in
the same spirit.
The thought of revenge disturbs the mental

peace of the avenger, which would have been tranquil
otherwise. Public revenges are often fortunate
whereas private revenges are not. In fact, the
avengers lead the life of the witches, which is both
mischievous and unfortunate.
6.4 OF LOVE
“Of Love” The great the worthy men have always

kept themselves from love. It is a form of idolatory
and therefore contemptible; it grossly distorts and
exaggerates truth and it deprives a man of the gifts
of Juno and Pallas. On analysis of the observations
of respective love, it is the most powerful in times
of weakness, and when it is found to be
irresponsible, it ought to be kept within proper
limits. In the case of soldiers love is the
compensation for peril sought in pleasure Love should
be allowed to expand from individual love t o t h e
general love for humanity and at last. Bacon
concludes that nuptial love is the cause of mankind,
friendly love is the perfection of it, but sensual or
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wanton love is the corruption of it.
Bacon says that love should be kept out of

life. It may be allowed only on the stage, in the
tragedies and comedies. In real life love creates
great mischief and therefore “great and worthy
persons” have kept themselves away from it. We must
be very careful in keeping our hearts free from
passion, for it has found entrance even in the hearts
free from passion, for it has found entrance even in
the hearts of ansters and wise men like Appius
Claudius, when they have been slightly of their
guard.
It is not proper to say that we are each a

sufficient theatre to one another. All men are equal
and a man kneeling before a woman, is a sort of
idolatory and it is not proper for a man to use his
eye in his affair which was given to him to execute
higher purposes. Another evil that love develop. In
man is a tendency to exaggeration. A lover always
speaks in a hyperbolic language. It is impossible to
love and to be wise man ought to guard very carefully
against this passion, in which he loses himself.
A lover has neither riches nor wisdom. This

can be illustrated by the example of Paris who chose
love and despised the two, as a result of which the
whole nation was involved in war. Love overtakes a
man when he is weak either due to great prosperity
or great adversity; but in the latter case it is less
frequent from this very fact, that it overtakes a man
in his weakness - it proves that it is the outcome
147
of folly.
The best course is that if one cannot help

loving, he must keep his love limits. He should not
let this passion interfere with the serious affairs
in life a man does not adopt the above course, he is
sure to lose his fortune and he cannot be able to
achieve his land. Even soldiers fall in love but with
them it is the compensation sought for perils.
Man is inclined to love and if he does not

spend his love on the particular person or a group of
persons, it expands itself into universal love and
such men become very kind and charitable to others.
148
6.5 Bacon’s Regard for Structure

Structure
In the essay there is a strong organic unity of
structure like a tree with its various branches. From
the main trunk of the basic concept arise the growth
and evolution of a series of related ideas that are
structured accordingly, one. leading on and sometimes
generating the other; or explaining and justifying
what had been said earlier.
Bacons divides his essays into paragraphs, It

is not like the modern system of paragraphing, where
we set one idea and its relationship in a single
paragraph. Sometimes there are sentence paragraphs. A
group or cluster of ideas are presented at the same
time. Hence his paragraphs are long and sometimes
contain whole series of related ideas, which break up
into separate units.
Bacon maps out the subject, so that the reader

will know, what exactly is to follow. The exclusion
of all extraneous material is the essence of Bacon's
structure. There is nothing but the barest truth of
what he desires to present.
The logical division into its several aspects

and parts, is noteworthy. This preserves the
perspective and not giving undue prominence to any
one portion of the material.
To conclude with the words of Bacon,
"Above all things, order, and distribution, and

singling put of parts, is the life of despatch; so as
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the distribution be hot too subtle; for he that will

not divide, will never enter well into business; and
he that divideth too much will never come out of it
clearly". (Essay "Of Despatch")
Bacon's use of Aphorism

Bacon's use of structure of individual
sentences has caught the attention of stylists His
apposite style is based on his use of aphorism. This
use of aphorism give firmness and flexibility to the
style. Bacon here makes use of a pattern which has
been known for a long time and was, much respected in
his time but not used as he did as a quality in prose
writing.
“The aphorism is to be found for instance in

the Bible, in the Book of Proverbs; it is to be seen
in some of the pronouncements of Moses, especially in
the Laws. It is to be found again in the sayings of
the prophets,' and finally Jesus himself used an
aphoristic style in his teaching the best example
being the Beatitudes. The aphorism was also to be
seen in the writings of the Greek and Latin writers
of Classic times who used it with great effect. So it
was no new method that Bacon had invented it was
rather one that he knew and had appreciated, and had
appealed to him as suitable to the ideas together.”
'The aphoristic style makes his essays more

professional and intellectual. Aphorism can be
easily memorised and quoted, and provides a kind of
wisdom on occasions which cannot be achieved in any
other manner and Bacon them a new form and lease of
150
life.
The moral precision of the aphorism is asking

of reasoning and persuasive power which was accepted
in his time. He uses it in the form of very short
'dispersed meditations'.
Bacon sees aphorism as a condensation of wisdom

and knowledge. In an age which valued precepts and
aphorisms, Bacon provided exactly what they needed,
and had the knowledge and wisdom to do so. It is
probably for this reason that his essays were so
popular. Some Examples of aphorisms are cited
below:
(a) For a lie faces God and shrinks from

man. (Of Truth)
(b) This is certain, that a man that

studieth revenge keeps / his wounds green, which
would otherwise heal and do well. (Of Revenge)
(c) Revenge is a kind of wild justice. (Of

Revenge)
(d) Besides nakedness is unseemly as well in

mind and in body. (Or Simulation and Dissimulation).
Bacon uses this short pithy style so peculiar

to him to impress what he said upon the reander as
forcibly and memorably as possible.'
6.6 Poetic Qualities
Bacon's prose is poetic among them the most

poetic of poets. This may be attributed to his use of
151
imagery, metaphor, and analogy and other rhetorical

devices in his prose.
The purpose of these devices is to create an

image in the imagination to up a picture before the
imagination of the reader. He was able to present
abstract ideas endowed with a kind of life and
actuality which was miraculous because they did not
lose their precision and yet were full of emotive
meaning. The clear expression of his subject matter
reveals that it is not necessary for words to be
affected or dominant but that meaning could be made
the prime interest without losing the grandeur and
dignity of literature.
Commenting of Bacon’s Essays Sir Joshua

Reynolds remarks "The excellence and their value
consisted in being the observations of a strong mind
operating upon life; and in consequence you find
there, what you seldom find in other books".
Bacon himself opinions there is no proceeding

in invention of knowledge but by similitude". So
Bacon himself sought out similarities between natural
phenomena and human situations which he could use
with strong effect.
The opening lines of ‘Of Fruth’ is cited here

as an example "What is truth? said jesting Pilate;
and would not t stay for an answer". Immediately he
is able by this image call up the picture of the
trial of Jesus Christ, and the incident of Pilate not
taking seriously the statement of Jesus at he had
come to bring truth into the world. He further uses
152
this image to point out that there are a type of

people who will not take anything-particularly truth
seriously. In the essay "Of Revenge", he alludes to
the witches in closing they ascribe it to the evil
work of the witch and hunt her and either drown her
burn her. To quote "Nay, vindictive persons live the
life ' witches; who, as they are mischievous, so end
they unfortunate". In other words vindictive persons
will come to a good end, just as witches will come to
harm. Bacon thus uses images very skillfully and
powerfully in his essays to affect his purposes.
Bacon uses metaphorical language to make

matters much clearer and actual to the reader.
In the essay of 'Simulation and Dissimulation'

have the example of analogy "Where a man cannot
choose or vary in particulars, there it is good to
take the safest and wariest way, like the going
softly, by one that cannot well see;" Here we have an
example of the simplest form of analogy. The prose of
Bacon does contain many examples in almost all his
e s s a y s r hetorical devices which makes his prose
imaginative and poetic. It clearly adds depth and
richness to his prose and clarity to what he wishes
to express. He is able to bring home what he means to
express much more powerfully because of the use of
other methods.
6.7 Bacon's use of Allusions and References
Almost all the essays have at least one

reference to the Bible. The most famous one is the
reference to jesting Pilate in the essay "Of Truth".
153
But besides that he has several references to the

famous King Solomon. In the essay "Of Revenge",
Solomon is quoted as saying that "it is the glory of
a man to pass by an offence". In the essay "Of
Riches", as saying: "Where there is much, there are
many to consume it; and what hath the owner but the
sight of it with his eyes? and "He that maketh haste
to be rich, shall not be innocent". Bacon also quotes
the Bible in 'On Atheism' as saying; '"The fool hath
said in his heart, there is no God". There is little
doubt that Bacon knew his Bible very well, and used
it with great effect.
Bacon also uses the classics for reference to a

very great extent. Bacon refers freely Epicurus
Plato, and Democritus among the Greeks, and Seneca
among the Roman philosophies. He refers to the Roman
Emperors Augustus Caesar, Tiberius, Vespasian and
others.
Bacon also alludes to modern writers in Europe

such as Montaigne. Cosmus, Duke of Florence, and
Spanish proverbs and thus orbiting his knowledge of
the modern European languages, French, Italian and
Spanish. This wide frame of reference goes to show
the immense amount of reading and knowledge that
Bacon possessed, and which he was able to call upon
in his dispersed meditations.
Finally we have references to Nature, a tree

and its branches, the hills, the sea, precious stones
and pearls, and talks about the waves and weathering
of time. His appreciation of the beauty and order of
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the created universe is best seen in his essay 'On

Atheism', this universal frame is without a mind.
And therefore God never wrought miracles to convince
Atheism, because his ordinary works convince it." The
belief in the natual world as against miracles is the
attitude of a truly scientific mind.
Thus the use of allusions makes his Essays

rich and varied, and give an idea of Bacon’s
encyclopedic knowledge and interests.
In the words of Benjonson “he seemed to me

ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and the
most worthy of admiration, that had been in many
ages.” One of the contemporary men remarks "He was a
man of strong, clear and powerful imagination, his
genius was searching and inimitable; and of this I
need give no other proof than his style itself. The
course of it is vigorous and majestically; wit bold
and familiar; the comparisons fetched out of the way,
and yet the most easy".
According to Hazlih, "He united powers of

imagination and understanding in a greater degree
than almost any other writer. He was one of the
strongest instances of those men who by rare
privilege of their nature are at once poets and
philosophers, and see equally into both worlds."
Commenting upon Bacon's style, Hazlitt remarks

"His writing have the gravity of prose with the
fervour and vividness ofpoetry. His sayings have the
effect of axioms, are at once striking and self -
evident. His style is equally sharp and sweet,
155
flowing and pithy, condensed and expansive expressing

volumes in a sentence, or amplifying a single,
thought intopages of rich, glowing and delightful
eloquence."
In the words of Sir, to be Mathews, "A man so

rare in knowledge of so many several kinds, endowed
with the faculty and felicity of expressing it all in
so elegant, significant, so abundant and yet so
choice and ravishing a way of words of metaphors and
allusions as perhaps the world has not seen since it
was a world.”
6.8 LET US SUM UP
You have learnt so for, life and works of

Francis Bacon, his style and technique employed in
his work and essential components of his essays.

1. Comment on the style and technique of Bacon’s
Essays with reference to the essays
prescribed.
2. The essays of Bacon are ‘true of all men, for
all time and in all place, Justify.
3. Discuss the essential features of Bacon’s
Essays.
156
6.10 REFERENCES
Chaudhuri, Sukanta Bacon’s Essays : A Selection. 1977

; rpt. Delhi : Oxford University Press,
1984.
Selby F.G. Bacon’s Essays. 1889; London :
Macmillan & Co., Ltd., 1964.
Hudson, William Henry Outline History of English
Literature. 1961 : rpt. Bell & Hyman
Ltd., 1988.
Saintsbury, George A short History of English
Literature. 1898; rpt. London :
Macmillan & Co. Ltd., 1960.
Sutherland, James. On English Prose. 1957 : rpt.
Canada : University of Toronto Press,
1965.
Vickers, Brian Francis Bacon and Renaissance
Prose. Great Britain : Cambridge
157
Lesson 7
Charles Lamb
Contents

7.1 Introduction
7.2 Charles Lamb’s Life & Works
7.3 Dissertation upon Roast Pig
7.4 In Praise of Chimney – Sweepers
7.5 Dream Children- A Reverie
7.6 Style and Technique of Charles Lamb
7.7 Humour and Patho7s in Charles Lamb’s Essays
7.8 Let Us Sum Up
7.10 References
This lesson aims to present you the life and works of Charles
Lamb; a towering essayist and critic besides detailing various
styles, feeling techniques and detailing of employed by him in his
works.
7.1 Introduction.
The true art of the essay was born with Lamb. He ranks very
high as an essayist and critic. He is compared to Addison but he is
far, superior to Addison in depth and tenderness of feeling, and in
richness of fancy. Goldsmith comes nearer to Lamb in delicacy of
feeling and sentiment, and also in pathos and humour, but does not
posses Lamb’s exquisiteness and quaintness of fancy. After all, Lamb
is the true inventor of the essay. In his own style he has woven
together into one charming whole the quaintness’ of the Elizabethan
manner, and the clearness and common source of modern times.
7.2 Charles Lamb’s Life & Works
Charles lamb was born in 1775. He was cradled in the quiet

cloisters of the Temple, and the old-world atmosphere of the Temple
clung about him all his life. Charles Lamb was the seventh and
youngest child of John and Eilzabeth Lamb. John Lamb was a
158
barrister’s clerk, with seven children, and had to fight hard against
the encroach-ments of poverty. Little money could be spared for
educational purposes, and it might have fared ill with Charles had
not Samuel Salt, his father’s patron, obtained for him, when he was
seven, a presentation to Christ’s Hospital. He could thus bid
farewell to his earlier mentor, “ Mr. William Bird, eminent writer
and teacher of languages,” whose readiness with the birch was more
obvious than his readiness with learning.
At Christ’s Hospital he stayed for another seven years. Here he

made the acquaintance of the youthful Coleridge, three years his
senior, and the acquaintance soon ripened into a friendship that was
to last a lifetime. Lamb proved a fairly good scholar, and when he
left in November 1789, ob-tained a post in the South Sea House, where
the friendly Salt was a Deputy Governor. His family had left the
Temple, the father by reason of increas-ing infirmities having
retired on a small pension, and we find them in Little Queen Street,
Holborn.
In his scanty leisure, Lamb threw himself with keen zest into
the joys of reading, a joy he shared with his sister Mary. This was
varied by occasional visits to the theatre, a brief excursion to
Hertford-shire — where some of his happiest moments were spent, and
where the one romance of his life budded and faded. His home life was
wearisome and gloomy. His father was growing childish and querulous ;
his mother was an invalid, and the strain of insanity in the family
suddenly showed itself in poor Mary, upon whom all the household
cares had devolved.
Between 1807 and 1817, Lamb’s contributions to! literature were

frequent and important. In 1817 the Lambs left the Temple for Covent
Garden, and an interesting chapter in his life was’ closed, f o r i t
was at the Temple where the famous, Wednesday evening gatherings took
place at theTemple moreover, where he made so many of his’lasting
friendships. The most interesting chapter in his literary life was to
start, however, in 1820, when Hazlitt introduced him to the editor of
the London Magazine, and the famous Elia essays came into existence.
In 1821 John Lamb died. In the summer of 1823 the Lambs once
again migrated yet further north, this time to Islington, failing
health made Lamb consider retirement, perhaps the loss of some of his
best friends weighed upon him also. The fact remains that neither
brother nor sister got so much pleasure from this retirement as had
159
been anticipated.
He found the folk at Enfield slow, and too prone to talk about
cattle. To relieve his boredom he would indulge in farcically
extravagant letters.
Lamb started as a writer about 1795, when Burke and Gibbon were
at the height of their glory, and some years before Scott had given
romantic narrative verse its astonishing vogue. He experimented both
in prose and verse. The tenderness of Lamb, and his genius for
reminiscence, find expression in Mrs. Leicester’s School and Poetry
for Children (1809) works written also in collaboration and designed
for Mrs. Godwin’s “ Juvenile Library.” For some years he wrote
little, but his literary friendships helped to stimulate his slowly
maturing powers.
Lamb’s work as a critic precedes his work as an essayist,

though the essays no less than the letters scintillate in brilliant
flashes of criticism. His earlier essay work, between 1811 and 1820,
is scarcely up to the level of Leigh Hunt’s. The flowering time came
in 1820 when “Elia” entered upon his own and started with the South
Sea House, rich in observant humour and reminiscent charm. In 1833,
the final fruits of Lamb were gathered together in The Last Essays of
Elm.
7.3 DISSERTATION UPON ROAST PIG
Lamb believes that the practice of roasting pigs originated in

China. A manuscript which was read out to him by his friend Thomas
Manning, told the story that the art of roasting was discovered
accidentally. Once the cottage of a shepherd caught fire and his nine
young pigs were burnt to death. From the burnt bodies of the pigs the
son of the shepherd experienced an alluring odour. As he searched for
the source of that smell in the ashes, he stooped down to feel a pig,
if there were any signs of life in it. The Shepherd burnt his fingers
and in order to cool them he put mem into his month. In this way, he
happened to taste the roast skin of the pig, which appeared to him the
greatest delicacy in the world. From that day, the shepherds started
setting fire to their cottages now and then and leaving some pigs to get
roasted in it. Gradually, a wise man suggested them not to burn their
cottages but roast pigs on gridirons.
Later the judge purchased all the pigs of the town. In a few days
160
his house was observed to be on fire. Then it followed that every house
was on fire. Throughout the district, fuel and pigs became very costly.
Insurance offices were closed. After a long time a practical
philosopher like Locke invented a cheaper way of roasting the flesh
of pigs and other animals.
The costly method described in the Chinese manuscript is worthy of

the pig. It is worthy because the roasted flesh of the pig is the
most delicate of all delicacies. It must be a young pig which is less
man a month old and which is called a crackling. In the plate on the
dinner-table is his second cradle. Such a pig is beautiful and good.
Elia might enjoy certain things when his friends taste them. But on
the question of the pig, he is stubborn. He himself must taste the pig.
Our ancestors were very particular about the way they sacrificed
such tender animals. How will a pig taste when it is whipped to death?
The young students at St Omer discussed a similar problem. If the pig
killed by whipping adds a new taste to the roasted flesh, is death by
whipping justifiable? Whatever be the decision, the young pig is a weak
ling a flower.
Lamb considers the roast pig as one of the best delicacies in the
world. "Of all the delicacies in the whole mundus edibilis, I will
maintain it to be the most delicate—princeps obsoniorum". Like a true
epicurean, Lamb describes the taste of this delicate dish, "There is no
flavour comparable, I will contend, to that of the crisp, tawny, well-
watched, not overroasted, crackling, as it is well called—the very
teeth are invited to their share of the pleasure at this banquet in
overcoming the coy, brittle resistance with the adhesive oleaginous O
call it not fat, but an indefinable sweetness growing up to it – the
tender blossoming of fat – fat cropped in the bud.
The essay reveals Lamb's epicurean tastes. A roast pig is the

greatest
delicacy in the world. Lamb wants to enjoy every good thing in the
world.
There is a charming self-revelation in the essay. Lamb was a kind-
hearted
man, but his preference for pigs which have been whipped to death is
against his nature.
7.4 IN PRAISE OF CHIMNEY – SWEEPERS
161
This essay reflects Lamb's concern for the lowly placed chimney-
sweepers. This is one of his best essays. His concern for humanity
and his profoundly sympathetic nature is vividly displayed throughout
the essay. No doubt he speaks only for the "young" chimney-sweepers
but that does in no way lessen the importance of the essay. He refers
to them as "those tender novices."
Lamb recalls his child-like wonder at the young chimneysweeper

disappearing into the chimney and emerging at the top like a warrior.
He is impressed by their work so he wants other people to be kind to
them. He urges the reader to give a penny or a two pence to a young
chimney sweeper, when he meets him on the way. He does not forget to
tell his readers not to be offended like Lamb himself if he laughs or
jeers at them because in this way only they will provide the chimney-
sweeper a chance to enjoy himself. Similarly he is pleased to see the
white teeth of a sooty young chimney-sweeper but he would not tolerate
a young beauty to show her white teeth.
Charles Lamb says that he always feels attracted towards young

chimney-sweepers whose cry of "sweep-sweep" at dawn fills him with a
little excitement that reminds him of the chirping of sparrows. He
r e f e r s t o
them as their work demands patience, When Lamb was a child he used to
w o n d e r h o w
young boys would enter the chimney from below, brush its walls and
then
emerge at the top.
' Lamb's appeals for such boys for their wont is strenuous as well
as dangerous. They deserve charity from us. He urges people to give a
penny or a two-pence to such a boy meeting them on the way.
The chimney-sweepers try to keep their senses of smell and taste

in order. They use sassafras tea or "salon" —a favourite beverage
with them. Lamb himself has never tasted it but thinks that it should
be gratifying to their senses as Valerian is to cats. But there are
imitators who sell the A show of charity to such boys will enable
them to do better work so that there may never be a casual spark. The
reader's hospitality will be suitably rewarded in the future as this
gesture will save them the expense of having to call fire engines in
the event of a chimney catching fire.
Lamb hates jeers and ridicules of a street crowd but he does not
162
mind if a young chimney-sweeper laughs at him. He tells us that once

he fell on his back in street. A roguish young chimney-sweeper saw
him in that condition and started laughing. He went on laughing until
tears flowed from his eyes.Still Lamb did not feel offended for, as
he felt, he had provided the chimney-sweeper an opportunity to be
happy at his cost. There was of course no malice in the heart of the
young chimney-sweeper.
Lamb is critical of young ladies showing their beautiful white

teeth but the sight of a black and sooty figure of a young chimney-
sweeper showing a set of white teeth is attractive.
' Lamb testifies to their social or family status. They are born
in high aristocratic family but are kidnapped from their homes in
their infancy. Once a young chimney-sweeper was found asleep in a
lordly bed. Had he been of low-birth, he would have dared not do so.
The possible explanation can be that the boy must have got some
natural instinct to get into that aristocratic bed.
Finally, Lamb tells us how his friend Jem White used to entertain
a large number of young chimney-sweepers every year. Mr. White was a
kind man. He had a great deal of sympathy for these unfortunate
chimneysweepers. During the feast Mr. White would go round offering a
morsel here and a slice there. They had a sumptuous meal. He used to
propose several toast to the king, to the chimney sweepers. The
slogan of one of the toasts was: "May the brush supersede the
Laurel". The young chimney-sweepers really used to enjoy themselves on
these occasions. It is a sad lot, Lamb says, that after the death of Jem
White, the practice has come to an end. No one else could undertake to
continue the tradition.
The essay is characteristic of its personal note. Lamb speaks

much about his attitude, likes and dislikes. The use of "I" is in no
way annoying, instead it adds to the charm of the essay. His style is
persuasive when he speaks on behalf of the young chimney-sweepers; we
almost begin to share his sentiments about them.
There are three paragraphs in which he describes "Sassafras tea"

which is a stimulating drink for the young chimney-sweepers. It is
greatly relished not only by the chimney-sweepers, but also by other
workmen leaving their homes at dawn. They freshen themselves with
this drink.
163
Another quality of the essay is that Lamb often slips into his
fancy. He imagines that some of chimney-sweepers were born in a
aristocratic family and were kidnapped from their homes in their
infancy. In order to make his argument appear sound, he relates an
anecdote concerning a young chimney-sweeper who crept into the lordly
bed in Arundel Castle.
As Lamb is fond of loading his essays with anecdotes, he does the

same in this essay as well. There are three anecdotes, one when he
slipped while walking and thus provided a chance of fun and enjoyment
to a young chimney sweeper. Two, there is a story about a young
chimneysweeper who slipped into the lordly bed in order to feel the
softness of the bed and also to give his tired limbs a little rest.
Three, there is a long narrative about Jem White who used 'to arrange
annual feasts in order to honour and provide entertainment to young
chimney-sweepers.
The essay presents a rich variety of Lamb's characteristic style.

There are high-sounding words and phrases that interest the reader
liking high-flown style of writing. Iteration which is a significant
feature of Lamb's writing is also noticeable in this essay. A few
examples of his style from this essay are given below:
"I have a kindly yearning toward these aim specks—poor blots—

innocent blackness—these young Africans of our own growth—these
almost clergy imps....." (The description of young chimney-sweepers).
It is like some ramnant of gentry not quite extinct; a badge of

better days; a hint of nobility....and a lapsed pedigree", (an
example of iteration).
Example of high-sounding or unusual words ".....whether the oily

particles (sassafras is slightly oleaginuous) do attenuate and soften
the fuliginous concretions....."
".....to come just in time to see the sable phenomenon emerge in

safety....."
".....but one of those tender novices, blooming through their first

negritude."
"Him shouldest thou haply encounter, with his dimvisage pendent over
the grateful steam, regale him with a sumptuous basin."
Lamb writes with eloquence. The description of Lamb's falling down in
164
the street exciting laughter of a young chimney-sweeper is such an

example. Though the entire description has been made in one long sen-
tence, yet several parentheses therein are not able to mar either the
eloquence or the beauty of the sentence. The same is true about the
description of Jem White's way of entertaining the young chimney-
sweepers.
The racing of sentences is smooth and the reader is carried

forward as if he were flowing with water. Lamb's style is
characteristic in its imaginative approach and the poetic appeal. The
essay may be called a "lyric in prose". Above all the humanistic
purpose of the essay makes it all the more beautiful and pragmatic.
7.5 DREAM CHILDREN- A REVERIE
Children like to hear about their elders when they were children. So, our author’s children sat
around him to listen to the stories of childhood of their great grand-mother Field. She lived in a great
house in Norfolk. The most interesting fact about this house was that the whole story of the Children in
the Wood was carved in wood upon the chimney piece of the great hall. But this was replaced by a
marble chimney-piece by a rich person afterwards. Great grand-mother Field was not the real owner of
the house but her behaviour and manners, and her religious devotions were so great that she was
respected by every one. She however used the house as if it was her own. But later, the ornaments were
taken off from the house to the real owner’s home, which was in the adjoining country. When Mrs.
Field died, her funeral was attended by both, poor folks, and the rich people. Men from many miles .
round, came to show their respect for her memory. She was indeed a very gentle-hearted and pious
person. She knew the Psaltery by heart and also a great part of the Testament.
Then Lamb began telling them about their great grandmother’s youth, when she was regarded
as the best darcer in the country. But she was attacked by cancer, and that desisted her from dancing
any further. Her good spirits, however, could not be broken, and she continued to be good and
religious. She used to sleep by herself in a desolate chamber of that great house. She thought she saw
two apparitions of infants at midnight, but she was sure that they were good creatures, and would not
hurt her. She was also very kind to her grand--children, who went to her during the holidays.’ Lamb
himself used to spend hours in gazing upon old busts of the Emperors Rome. He used to roam round
the large silent rooms of that huge house, and looked through the wt;rn-out hangings, fluttering
tapestry, and carved oaken panels. He also used to hang about the garden, gazing at the trees and
flowers. He was satisfied thus roaming about and preferred this to the sweet flavours of peaches,
nectarines, and such like common habits of children.
Though great grand-mother Field loved all her grand-children, she had a special favour for
their uncle John Lamb, because he was a handsome and spirited lad He was dashing sort of fellow.
165
While others would have preferred a secluded corner, he used to mount on horses and ride around the
country and join the hunters. Their uncle John Lamb was really a brave man, and when he grew up to
be a man, he won the admiration of every one. When our author was a lame-footed boy, John who was
few years senior to him used to carry him on his back for many miles. In after-life, John, however,
became lame-footed. Lamb now fears that perhaps he had not been considerate enough to bear the
impatient pains of John, or to remember his childhood, when he was carried by John. But when Juhn
died, Lamb came to miss him very much, and remembered his kindness and his crossness, and wished
him to be alive again. The children then demanded that Lamb should say something about their dead
mother. Then Lamb began telling them how for seven long years he patiently courted the fair Alice
Winterton. As he was relating these experiences of his, he, ’suddenly felt that the eyes of that old Alice
were gazing from the face of the little Alice, sitting before him. As Lamb looked, and looked, it seemed
that the two chitdren, John and Alice, were receding from him. At last just two mournful features were
left of them, and they told him that they were neither of Alice, nor of Lamb, that they were not
children. For, the children of Alice, had Bartrum for their father. So they were merely dreams. At this
point. Lamb woke up and found himself sitting in his bachelor arm-chair, where he had fallen asleep
with the faithful Bridget by his side.
7.6 STYLE AND TECHNIQUE OF CHARLES LAMB
Lamb’s place in literature is unique. He is a fine

imaginative critic and something of a poet; but he lives, and will
live, by virtue of being himself and expressing that self in a series
of prose essays unsurpassed in their charm, prodigality of fancy and
literary artifice, marked by a distinguished common sense, starred
with passages of great beauty and profound insight, and suffused with
a kindly and capricious humour. The “Essays of Elia” are a complete
revelation of their writer’s character and, with his correspondence,
constitute an autobiography.
Lamb is fond of a kind of reversed irony. He makes a

statement or uses a phrase which at first is unpleasing, but becomes
pleasing when we consider it more carefully. For instance, he writes
of “the rational antipathies of the great English and French
nations.” He says of himself and his sister, “We are generally is
harmony, with occasional bickerings, as it should be among near
relations,” and describes the coast-guard men as carrying on “a
legitimated civil war in the deplorable absence of foreign one.”
The Essays of Elia reveal the charm and endurance of a

personality with a turn for quaint and fantastic humour, melting into
pathos, with sober delight in the things of life, which even the
overshadowing tragedy of his sister’s fatal malady can hardly
166
repress. In reading his essays the tragic background of his life is

highlighted but there is no track of self-pity to our sympathy, nor
any bravado, nor the hashing of teeth in important range. By the
alchemy of his sweeteners of disposition and by the alchemy of
poetry, he seems to have metamorphosed all his troubles into the
fancy realm of dreams, reminiscence, unfulfilled longings, things
stored up in the memory, experiences that should have been forgotten
long ago, sketches of incidents which one would have passed over in
life, the bizarre and fantastic which he seem to have an miscanny
sense of perceiving – all these enter into his essays.
Lamb lives mostly in the world of memories, the has a brooding

fantasy and it ponders and meditates, softening the outlines of the
past and presenting a clear, though sad picture. Pathos becomes a
necessary element of each writing. It reveals his infinite capacity
for compassion. He converts his personal experiences into the
universal suffering of mankind. His style owes its grace and charm
to this unfailing sense of pathos.
The romantic essence of things and personalities which he

very stuffily brings out is a part of his humorous understanding and
sensibility. It is love of life – of things essentially human,
including weakness and even vices – that lifts him above the
calamities of life.
“As a contributor to the London Magazine, he evolved the

Essays of Elia, incomparable meditations, reveries, fantasies, on the
accidents and essentials of life and death. There the tenderness,
pathos, and ineffable lavish humour of one of the most lovable
personalities in literature find an expression steeped in rich
allusiveness, quaint with freaks, starting with sudden child like
felicities, and sweet with sighing cadavers. RemarksG.L. Craik”.
In his essays there is a hint, now and then, of things painful

Dream children, can be cited as an example but the painful relatives
o f l i f e form the back drop, a n d are transmitted to us in shadowy
renaissance, “He does not deal with problems, but in memories of
simple things and simple people, often with the pathos of death on
oblivion dinging about these; the sights of common London the
chimney – sweepers and the Jews and the actors, the choice savours of
beasts and of fish, the street arise and the changing bells” (C.H.
Herford)
167
Humour and pathos which are allied in Lamb’s essays. Humour in

an essential part of his nature. He could just get away from his own
tragic experiences and dispassionately view human affairs. Sometimes
he indulges such humour to spite realities.
Lamb’s humour keeps him human and makes up a large part of

his benign personalities. He could never have cherished any bitter
feelings in his heart. The tender watchfulness with which his humour
invests everything is a quality unique in Lamb. Wh a t s u d d e n
unexpected touches of pathos in him! He is represented by the fine
shade of perception and sensibility expressing itself in delicate
humour, which is rendered in language subtle and perfect. His
humour makes a sense appraisement of life.
“How admirably, he has sketched the former of the south – sea

house; what fair fretwork be makes of their double and single
entries. “With that a firm, yet subtle peril, he has embodied Mrs.
Battle’s opinion on what! How notably he embalms a battered bearer;
how delightfully an armour, that was cold forty years ago revives in
his pages ! With what evil distinguished humour he introduces us to
his relation, and how freely leaves up his friends!”
It reflects Lamb's epicurean tastes, his liking of delicious dishes,

like that of a roast pig. Though Lamb calls the essay 'a dissertation*,
it is not a formal treatise. Throughout the essay can be seen a vein of
humour and fun.
The essay, Dissertation upon a roast pig, is full of fun and

humour. The story of accidental discovery of cooking or burning is
quite humorous. The various anecdotes narrated by Lamb provide
occasions of fun and humour which was an essential trait of Lamb's
nature. The roasted pig is humorously called 'mundus edibilis' and
'the chief of the dainties'. There can be nothing but humour in
remarks, such as 'See him in the dish', his second cradle, how meek he
looks. The pine-apple is a humorous simile for the pig. In short, the
essay is full of fun and humour. The essay should be read with a
spirit of light fun and laughter.
Lamb explains the principles of his diction “ Diligent care

has been taken to select such words as might least interrupt the
effect of the beautiful English tongue in which he wrote ; those few
words introduced into our language since his time have been as far as
possible avoided.”
168
“ Some things are of that nature as to make one’s fancy chuckle

while his heart doth ache,” wrote Bunyan. The nature of things mostly
appealed to Lamb in that way. Humour with him is never far from
tragedy ; through his tears you may see the rainbow iii the sky ; for
his humour and pathos are really inseparable from one another, they
are different facets of the same gem ; or to change the simile, one
may say that Lamb’s moods, whether grave or gay, are equally the
natural effervescence of an exquisitely mobile imagination.
As a rule he tells the world more about himself than he tells

his friend. This is due to no morbid egotism, no mere loquacity, it
is a necessity of his nature to express himself. In fiction it is the
least apparent, because of the exigencies of this particular art
form. A novelist may dramatize his moods and experiences, and this to
an extent disguises his selfrevelation ; but in the essay form the
intimate confidential note is the most obtrusive, and the disregard
for classical standards and rigidity of form that is peculiar to
romantic literature of all kinds, necessarily helps this self-
revealing process.
For this reason the Essays of Elia especially, and the critical
essays to a less extent, are practically autobiographical fragments,
from which we may reconstruct with little difficulty the inner life
and no little of the outer life of Lamb. In spite of his apparent
carelessness as to the comfort of his brother and sister, Charles
had always retained a strong affection for him. This most
pathetically expressed in Dream Children. The streets of London are
his fairy-land, teeming with wonder – with life and interest to his
retrospective glance, as it did to the eager eye of childhood; he has
contrived to weave its tritest traditions into a bright and endless
romance. To one chief feature of city life, Lamb was indifferent. He
took no interest in politics. Lamb was so thoroughly a lover of the
town.
In the underlying melancholy of his character Lamb resembles

many of the Elizabethans, for melancholy is a common accompaniment of
habits of deep thought, but in Lamb’s case his melancholy was due to
a hereditary taint. His father’s dotage and his sister’s madness have
been mentioned already, and though no actual evidence of madness has
been recorded of his brother John, we find Lamb writing on one
occasion that he has fears for his mind.
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One can notice the usual wit and humour in this essay. The
description of how a young-chimney sweeper disappears into a chimney
and emerges at the top, is interesting. Similarly, the description of
"Sassafras" tea and the Chimney-sweeper's liking for that is
humorous. Then follows the incident of Lamb's stumbling and falling
on his back in the street causing laughter of a young chimney-
sweeper. The odd reference to young beautiful ladies showing their
"white and shining ossifications" is satirical as well as humorous.
Then the whole account of Jem White is also very interesting. Thus
humour is the chief quality of the essay. As pathos also runs beside
humour in Lamb's writing, mean find moving references about chimney-
sweepers' poverty and fate. He writes, "Reader, if thou meetest one
of these small gentry in thy early rambles, it is good to give him a
penny." Pathos is present also in the description of how these young
chimney-sweepers might have been kidnapped from their aristocratic
homes in their infancy and left to suffer the whole life.
7.7 HUMOUR AND PATHO7S IN CHARLES LAMB’S ESSAYS
Lamb is the supreme essayist of the period and in

English literature because the true art of the essay was born with
him. He ranks very high as an essayist and critic. He is compared
to Addison but he is far, superior to Addison in depth and tenderness
of feeling, and in richness of fancy. Goldsmith comes nearer to Lamb
in delicacy of feeling and sentiment, and also in pathos and humour,
but does not posses Lamb’s exquisiteness and quaintness of fancy.
After all, Lamb is the true inventor of the essay. He was fond of
“out-of the-way humours and opinions – heads with some diverting
twists in them – things quaint, irregular and out of the road of
common sympathy.” In his own style he was woven together into one
charming whole the quaintness’ of the Elizabethan manner, and the
clearness and common source of modern times.
The essays of Elia reveal the charm and endurance of a

personality with a turn for quaint and fantastic humour, melting into
pathos, with sober delight in the things of life, which even the
overshadowing tragedy of his sister’s fabal malady can hardly
repress. In reading his essays we feeling the tragic background of
his life but there is no truck of self-pity to evilest our sympathy,
nor any bravado, nor the garnishing of teeth in important range. His
life is a tragic history “dashed tremendously with gloom,” suffered
with tears, but when read as a whole, it is a tale of conquest and of
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triumph. There is little direct hint of all in his essays. By the

alchemy of his sweeteners of disposition, by the alchemy of poetry,
be seems to have metamorphosed all his troubles into the fancy realm
of dreams, reminiscence, unfulfilled longings, things stored up in
the memory, experiences that should have been forgotten long ago,
sketches of incidents which one would have passed over in life, the
bizarre and fantastic which he seem to have all these enter into his
essays.
“As a contributor to the London Magazine, he evolved the Essays

of Elia, incomparable meditations, reveries, fantasies, on the
accidents and essentials of life and death. There the tenderness,
pathos, and ineffable lavish humour of one of the most lovable
personalities in literature find an expression steeped in rich
allusiveness, quaint with freaks, starting with sudden child like
felicities, and sweet with sighing cadavers. There is no more in
describable book in literature” says G.L. Craik.
The south sea House, Oxford in the vacation, Chief’s hospital

are some of the many essays that reveal the essentially human
interest of the prices. In his essays there may be a hint, now and
then, of things painful (e.g. Dream children), but the painful
realities of life are kept in the region of memory, and are
transmitted to us in shadowy renaissance, “He does not deal with
problems, but in memories of simple things and simple people, often
with the pathos of death on oblivion dinging about these; the sights
of common London and what else is a great city but a collection of
sights?” the chimney – sweepers and the Jews and the actors, the
choice savours of beasts and of fish, the street arise and the
changing bells” (C.H. Herford)
Lamb lives mostly in the world of memories, that has a

brooding fantasy and it ponders softening the outlines of the past
and presenting a clear, through sad picture, which we may think
romantically coloured, but which in tree relatively to the author’s
experience. Pathos becomes a necessary element of each writing. It
reveals his infinite capacity for compassion. He read his personal
experience into the universal suffering of mankind. His style owes
its software grace and charm to this unfailing sense of pathos.
Then again humour in an essential part of his nature. Humour

grace him the detachment of an onlookers – and he could just get away
from his own tragic experience and dispassionately view human
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affairs. The pre-environment gift to humour, most akin to pathos,

touches everything be writes in all its shifting colours. The
romantic essence of things and personalities which he very stuffily
beings out is a part of him humorous understanding and sensibility.
It is love of life – of things essentially human, including weakness
and even vices – that lifts him above the calamities of life.
Lamb’s humour that keeps him human and makes up a large part of
his benign personalities. His humour in a mingling of laughter and
tears. and they are again acrylic laughter tears. He had a comic
view o f l i f e and he could see life and see it steadily and as a
whole. Lamb is represented by the finer shade of perception and
sensibility expressing itself in delicate humour, which in rendered
in language subtle and perfect. What largely describes as a
“ghastly make – believe of humour as a gross judgment. It is rather
diving a veil over the ghastliness of his experience in life. His
humour makes a sense appraisement of life. He does not jest with
life; he cannot for he has known all that is grim in life; but his
humour relieves him of the painfulness and tendencies of life.
“How admirably, he has sketched the former of the south – sea

house; what fair fretwork be makes of their double and single
entries. “With that a firm, yet subtle peril, he has embodied Mrs.
Battle’s opinion on what! How notably he embalms a battered bearer;
how delightfully an armour, that was cold forty years ago revives in
his pages ! With what evil distinguished humour he introduces us to
his relation, and how freely leaves up his friends!
Humour is a necessary equipment of a writer like Lamb who

perforce of black out all that troubles in spirit and turn his
attention to men and things outside himself; now when doing so be
must assessable incongracious elementary in life and he must laugh
inspite of tears. The tender watchfulness with which his humour
invests everything is a quality unique in Lamb – and we look for it
elsewhere in vain “… what sudden unexpected touches of pathos in him!
- beauty witness how the sorrow of humanity the welf schemers, the
constant asking of the wounds, is ever present with him; but what a
gift also for the enjoy of life in its suffleties, of enjoyment
actuality refined by the need of some thoughtful economies and
making.
Lamb’s humour, in all its shifting colours, touches everything he writes. The romantic essence
of things and personalities which he very subtly brings out is a part of his humorous understanding and
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sensibility. His humour, his wistful longing, his haunting sense of the painful realities of life, his loving
interest in his habitat and neighbors, as well as in things that are gone or going and lastly his style and
fancy are all moulded together by his essentially human personality are all of a piece. Hence we cannot
separate his style from his humour. His essays are alive with his being and iridescent with his character
and sensibility, and fully develop all the graces, nobility, tenderness and whimsicality that make Lamb
what he is. Humour lends enchantment to all his reveries, fantasies and speculations, and humour is a
very important element in his character as well as in his writings.
7.8 Let us Sum Up
The genius of Lamb lay in his power of visualizing memories. As

a stylist does he walk in the past, gathering to himself the pleasant
tricks and mannerisms of bygone writers. Passing through Lamb’s
imagination, they become something fresh and individual. The matter
harmonizes with the manner. It also belongs to the past; its charm,
too, is a retrospective one. In his dearly loved haunts it is the
shadow of bygone times that he sees, rather than present actualities;
a vanished face, a hushed voice, a recollected gesture, some familiar
friend from book, the memory of some treasured joyance. But Lamb’ a
memories are not like Wordsworth’s, “ emotions recollected in
tranquility.” He recalls them not to wring from them some spiritual
rapture, or ethical significance, but merely as material for his
intellect and fancy to play upon. He plays with his thoughts the
atmosphere of his mind reflects the pictures that he conjures up
Lamb belonged externally very little to his own time. He

cared nothing for politics on public events, although he was not
sorry when the death of a royal personage gave him a holiday. He
preferred, as he put it, to “write for antiquity.” His life is a
tragic history “dashed tremendously with gloom,” suffered with
tears, but when read as a whole, it is a tale of conquest and of
triumph. There is little direct hint of all in his essays.
1. Analyse the distinctive features of Lamb’s essay with reference

to the essays prescribed.
2. Comment on the humour and pathos in Lamb’s essays.
3. Consider Lamb as an Essayist.
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7.10 REFERENCES
Lamb, Charles Essays of Elia, Bombay: Macmillan & Co., Ltd.,

1970.
Lucas; E.V. The Best Lamb London: Methuea and Co. Ltd., 1966
Park, Roy Lamb as Critic. London: Routledge & Thegan Paul,

1980.
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LESSON - 8
JOHN BUNYAN
THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS
Contents
8.1 The Life of John Bunyan
8.2 Outline of The Pilgirm’s Progress
8.3 Style and Technique
8.4 Pilgrim’s Progress as an Allegory
8.5 Let Us Sum Up
8.7 References
This lesson costs light on one of the works of John Bunyan,

entitled “The Pilgrim’s Progress” By reading this lesson, you will be
aware of the life history of Bunyan and his contributions with style
and techniques.
8.1 The Life of John Bunyan
John Bunyan was born at Elstow near Bedford in 1628. His father
was a tinker by trade, and he brought up his son also in the same
job. There is no record of his having gone to any school, but in the
years of the Civil War, lie was drafted into the army, but stayed in
it for little more than a year. For he returned to his native village
in 1645 while the Civil War was still in progress, and married in
1649—the year of the king's trial and execution—a poor girl who
brought him curiously enough two old books as her dowry! These were
well-known religious tracts entitled ' Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven'
and ' The Practice of Piety." In 1653 he became a member of a small
Christian oommumfes-whioh had no other dogma except to follow the
teachings of Christ implicitly. Thereafter Bunyan began to address
small groups of his acquaintances and the public on the message of
Christianity as he understood it.
There were severe laws enacted against unofficial and
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unauthorised preachers who began to multiply in all parts of the land.

Bunyan was arrested in 1660 for disobeying the law and sent to
Bedford jail where he dwelt till the year 1679. In those twelve years
he wrote in jail a number of religious discourses such as ' Christian
Behaviour,' ' The Holy City', 'The Resurrection of the Dead* and
'Grace Abounding.' From 1672 to 1675 he laboured as a licensed
preacher, but in the latter year the freedom given to Dissenters was
withdrawn and he was again sent to jail for six months in 1675. It
was during the period of his second imprisonment that he wrote in
Bedford jail the first part of ' The Pilgrim's Progress.' It was
published in 1678 .
Then followed a series of other books from his pen in

too-following years. Chief of them were ' The Life and Death of Mr.
Badman (1680). 'The Holy War' (1682), and the second part of ' The
Pilgrim's Progress ' (1684). After labouring zealously as a preacher
among his fellow-townsmen, he at last died in 1688. Altogether he
wrote about sixty books, all of religious appeal. But ' The Pilgrim's
Pro g r e s s ' became a best seller even in his life-time, and has
remained one of the world's classics ever since. It has since been
translated into almost all the languages of the world. "
8.2 OUTLINE OF THE PILGIRM’S PROGRESS
The journey of the Christian occurs in three different stages

and stands a good comparison to the life journey of every individual
with the temporal things of the world and secondly he is pre-occupied
with self love. The last stage deals with the Christian’s full and
victorious living with God, his total surrender and sanctification
and the heavenly bliss accruing to him from his intimate association
with him.
At the very outset Christian is seeking deliverance from the

enmeshing and enervating influences o f t h e City of Destruction.
Though obstinate resolves to pursue him, to change his purpose,
Christian is able to overcome him because he is firm in seeking an
inheritance, which is incorruptible and undefiled. The company of
Pliable is responsible for driving him to the Slough of Despond.
There arises in him fears, doubts and discouraging apprehensions.
For the deliverance from the burden of sin that he is carrying

on the back the Evangelist leads him to Calvary and throws light upon
the meaning of the death of Jesus Christ. The Worldly wise man of the
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town of Carnal Policy, Legality of the village called Morality and

Civility try to mislead and misguide Christian.
During the course of his pilgrimage in the way of the cross,

there are numerous temptations for him to burn back. The love of
earthly comforts, the priority of tender family ties, are some of the
primary hindrances to his true discipleship. As he walks through the
wicket gate and reaches the house of Interpreter, many truths about
Christ and Satan, Salvation, sanctification, Second coming and about
the life of this world, and that of which is to come are revealed to
him.
The First stage of Christian’s spiritual-journey ends with his

thrilling experience of Salvation. The load of sins rolls away at
the vision of the cross. The redemption which is in Christ Jesus has
a specific beginning, a specific working out in Christian’s life and
ultimately a specific conclusion, a goal, a mark towards which he is
pressing. Since his assurance of salvation is securely based, his
progress is not deterred by Simple, Sloth, Presumption, Formalist,
Hypocrisy and Vain glory who come along his way.
As Christian climbs up the Hill of Difficulty, clambering upon

his hands and his knees, life seems to be filled with innumerable
cares and disappointments, penetrating care and sorrow which become a
heavy weight and impede him and make him grow slack in his running
race and reaching the goal. As a result Timorous and Mistrust
encounter him, and a sense of fear and guilt arise in him making him
feel helpless.
In the early stages of his journey Christian moves through an

inhospitable terrain, where he must take refuge in a way station such
as House Beautiful and where evidences of divine favor are fleeting
and mysterious for example, the hand that appears with leaves from
the Tree of Life to heal Christian’s wounds when he is in the Valley
of Humiliation. When Christian keeps on his way and faces Apollyon,
he is not inspired by any martial ardour. He goes on because he
remembers that he has armour for his chest but not for his back, so
that turning tail would be the most dangerous thing he could do.
The way of the cross involves Christian passing through the

valley of Humiliation, with a direct encounter with Apollyon, the
devil, whom Christian successfully overcomes him. The Valley of the
Shadow of Death is an inevitable place in the way of the
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cross.Chsristian accompanied by Faithful reaches the town of Vanity

Fair, where all worldly things, transactions, places, honours,
desires, titles, kingdoms, lust, pleasure and all kinds of delights
and evils prevail. The people of the town sentence faithful to death
and imprison Christian who finally manages to escape with the help of
God. Hopeful is another interesting character who joins Christian.
Though they encounter Mr. Hold-The-World, Mr. Money-love and Mr.
Save-All, whom successfully overcome.
In the progress of Christian the field of Ease is another

barrier. Though he is trapped and imprisoned in the Doubting Castle
by giant Despair, he makes use of the key of promise and successfully
escapes from the Doubting Castle. As he reaches the Immanuel’s land,
he gains more knowledge, experience and become more watchful and
sincere. In the continuation of their journey, despite the words of
Flatterer, ignorance and the Atheist they never waver in their faith.
Christian is in inclined to be impulsive and passionate. He

runs part of the way up the Hill of Difficulty, and it is he who, by
overruling Hopeful’s good advice and taking a short cut, leads them
both into By-Path Meadow and to Doubting Castle. He is too ready to
jump to conclusions, fearing that all hope is gone when he loses his
roll of election in the Arbour, or beginning to sink when his doubts
return upon him in the crossing of the River.
Christian’s actions describe a progression through stages of
spiritual life proceeds from an initial conviction of sin that lands
him in the Slough of Despond to the instruction in Scripture that he
receives in the Interpreter’s House and through the various trials of
the major part of the journey until he finally arrives at the
assurance of God’s mercy represented by Beulah. The more violent,
and dramatic, assaults on Christian’s faith come early – the most
violent, that of Apollyon, soon after he has put on the Pauline
armour of the solider of Christ. The transition from the Valley of
Humiliation to the Valley of the Shadow of Death makes sense in terms
o f C hristian’s experience; he has just faced the prospect of
annihilation in the battle with Apollyon. After escaping the fiends
of the Valley of the Shadow, Christian must face the hostile society
of Vanity Fair. Later Christian encounters more subtle kinds o f
temptations, involving fraud or deceptive appearances Demas, By-Path
Meadow, Flatterer, the seductive appeal of the Enchanted Ground for
the pilgrim nearing the end of his journey.
The Delectable Mountains constitute a spiritual height
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attained only by the stalwart ‘For but few of them that begin to come
hither, do shew their face on these Mountains,’ remark the shepherds
on which Christian and Hopeful anticipate pleasures to be realized
more fully in Beulah. The ‘Gardens, and Orchards, the Vineyards, and
Fountains of water’ serve as tangible proof of God’s marvellous
bounty. When Christian reaches Beulah the gate of the New Jerusalem
is ‘within sight’ and he is able to solace himself with delights of
the place: flowers, singing birds, ‘abundance’ of corn and wine, and
, not least, the presence of ‘Shining Ones’.
The Delectable Mountains suggest a large region named
Immanuel’s land that embodies the promise of salvation, Beulah a
whole ‘country’. By the time Christian and Hopeful have reached the
River of Life the landscape itself sustains them; it is an oasis
where they may ‘lie down safely’ and enjoy the life giving fruit and
water of the place.
In addition to the River of Life the springs and fountains
that Christian encounters in his journey, beginning with the spring
at the foot of the hill Difficulty, embody the ‘Spirit of grace’. As
Christian drinks these waters, and eats the fruit of the Tree of Life
and of the vineyards of Beulah and the Delectable Mountains, he may
be said to grow in spiritual strength and vitality.
The delights of Beulah suggest the high level of spiritual
satisfaction that can be attained by the faithful in this life, but
Chrisitian must cross the river, a spiritual Jordan to reach the true
promised land.
Bunyan shows his pilgrims, ‘transfigured’ by their heavenly
garments, entering into a state of bliss and rest that surpasses
anything they could have known in the world and justifies all the
trials they have endured there. The holy joy that they experience can
be attained only in the presence of God, in the act of praising him.
We last see Christian and Hopeful as they blend into the festive
chorus of angels and saints singing: ‘Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord’
(p.162).
Pilgrim’s Progress consists of two parts, each complete in
itself. The first recounts the full journey of the pilgrim, who was
called Graceless and is now known as Christian, from the City of
Destruction to the Celestial City. Concerned as it is with the
individual, this first part presents one facet of the Christian life,
and does not deal primarily with the larger life of the Christian
community.
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“The second part of The Pilgrim’s Progress (1684), which is

the story of Christian’s wife and children on their way to Paradise,
is much inferior to Part I. At the outset, it was Bunyan’s idea to
have Mr. Sagacity tell the story to the Dreamer; then, apparently, he
realized the clumsiness of this plan, and Sagacity was summarily
dropped. Bunyan seems now to be writing for women and children. But
a picturesque narrative needs a hero, not a heroine.
“At the outset, Bunyan substituted an assault on Christina’s

chastity for the physical combats in which her husband had
participated. But he unable to do much with it, and in any event
such a device could not very well have been repeated. When combats do
occur, it is not Christina but her guide, Greatheart, who is involved
in them. There is a adventure and more exposition in Part II, then in
Part I and much of it is dismal. Even the death of Giant Despair,
which ought to have been a climax to the thrilling adventure of Part
I, is comparatively tame.
“Yet there are touches as fine as anything in Bunyan.

G r e a t h e a r t h i m s e l f ,
Mr. Valiant for Truth, Mr. Honest, and Madame Bubble are all
memorable characters. Abstractions come to life as of old in those
weak Christians, Mr. Fearing and Mr. Fearing and Mr. Feeblemind –
how wise, how tender, and how deeply Christian Bunyan is in his
treatment of them! When Ready to Halt dances with Despondency’s
daughter, Much-Afraid, there is a w e l c o m e touch of humour. When
Mercy falls in love with Christian’s son, Matthew, and marries him
and bears him a child, we are coming close to the novel of domestic
life. Finally they cross the River. Despondency’s daughter went over
singing, ‘but none could understand what she said.’ With Mr. Valiant-
for-Truth the situation was different ‘all the Trumpets sounded for
him on the other side.’
8.3 STYLE AND TECHNIQUE
Considering the real qualities of the novel, ocean find it very hard
to discover one which is not eminently present in Pilgrim’s Progress.
It has a sufficient and regular plot in each of its parts, the two
being duly connected – a plot rather of the continuous or straight –
line than of the interwoven or circular order, but still amply
sufficient. The action and interest of this plot rather of the
continuous or straight – line than of the interwoven or circular
order, but still amply sufficient. The action and interest of this
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plot are quite lavishly supported by character; indeed, the Pilgrim’s

Progress is the first prose work of fiction in which this all-
powerful tool, which had hitherto been chiefly used by the dramatist,
and to a less intense, but more extensive, degree by the poet, was
applied.
The description and the dialogue are used to further the

narrative, in the precise way in which novel differs from Drama – the
description being given by the author, not by the characters or the
stage directions – and are mixed and tempered with an art only
inferior to that shown in the projection of character which they
help.
In his relations with Faithful and Hopeful there is some room

for the play of temperament as well as a generalised picture of
Christian comradeship. The theological passages have a firm
intellectual structure. In contrast, in the minor characters
something that can be called literary art is displayed in its full
subtlety it is the art of the traditional popular sermon judiciously
fusing moral doctrine and dramatic reality into economical vignettes.
In the portraits of heretics and backsliders, after we have taken in
the introductory catch-word of a moralised name, Ignorance or Ready –
to – halt, we slip from allegory to genre studies of flesh and blood.
Ignorance is ‘a very brisk lad’. Talkative is ‘a tall man, and
something more comely at a distance than at hand.
The skilful, dissecting humour of the portrait of Ignorance may
serve to illustrate the quality of all these studies of heretics and
backsliders Ignorance is young and some what ingenuous; he is not a
corrupt old time-server like By-Ends, or a pompous authoritarian prig
like Worldly Wiseman.
The grammatical arrangement is loose but never sloppy, a series
of parallel clauses and sentences; if they naively run on, they are
never allowed to pile up too much and cause confusion. An emphatic
pause, like that before the last sentence, serves to make the
structure of meaning absolutely clear. The slight but pleasing music
of the short clauses, varying in length but only varying a little,
creates a transparent medium for dramatic effects. The simpler the
prose statement, the more humorous or poignant implications can show
through it.
The prose has a range extending through this serviceable,
fairly neutral medium, to a rough, vivid colour in words and phrases
from racy, country speech. The language is studded with popular
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proverbs sometimes it is hard to tell whether a phrase not recorded

elsewhere is a rare proverb or simply the creation of the proverbial
imagination.
Major force is Bunyan’s own speech and tone of voice, modified
by the use he had put it to in order to express personal religious
experience and by his training as a popular preacher. Where the
Bible is dominant is in the though and structure of the work. First,
in the great metaphors of wayfaring and struggle, but also in nearly
every important episode.
The Valley of the Shadow, Vanity Fair, the houses of
entertainment for pilgrims modeled on the life of the apostles in the
Acts, the final bourne of the Heavenly City – all by the creative
ferment of the native imagination expand hints and suggestions into
full-scale drama. The dream is frame; it is also the process by
which the native imagination was able to crack the narrow sectarian
pattern and free the Biblical truths to describe the way of the
people of God in living terms. Christian undertakes his journey
because he believes his hometown is going to be destroyed by fire.
Lively characterization, of course, constitutes a major
strength of The Pilgrim’s Wiseman and Talkative and Pliable. But the
spirit and quality of Bunyan’s art in this respect are not adequately
suggested in terms of the characters in the book that are observed
satirically; there is no lack in his characterization of sympathetic
perception and rendering or of warm human feeling.
The encounter of Christian and Hopeful with the shepherds of
the Delectable Mountains provides a revealing illustration of
Bunyan’s ability to combine the two basic senses of the metaphor of
the way. This episode offers one of the best examples in T h e
Pilgrim’s Progress of the subjectivity of the individual way of
faith:
Christian . Is this the way to the Celestial City?

Shepherd . You are just in your way.
Christian. How far is it thither?
Shepherd. Too far for any, but those that shall get thither
indeed.
Christian. Is the way safe, or dangerous?
Shepherd. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe, but
transgressors shall fall therein.
The deliberate ambiguity forces one to recognize that the
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nature of the way its length and the specific dangers to be

encountered depends upon the faith of the individual pilgrim.
Christian’s faith exists only in this ‘time present’ because faith
must be renewed continuously.
One cannot overemphasize the importance of his final episode
to the structure of The Pilgrim’s Progress and the experience of its
contemporary readers. The emotional intensity of Bunyan’s narrative,
as it rises to a series of peaks leading up to the moment of
Christian’s and Hopeful’s reception into the New Jerusalem, registers
in unmistakable fashion his own estimation of how far his pilgrims
have progressed.
Bunyan’s rendering of the glory of heaven, and of the
preliminary delights of Beulah, is one of the great triumphs of the
Puritan imagination and the ultimate justification of his use of the
metaphor of the journey. The climatic episodes of The Pilgrim’s
Progress bring the reader all the way from the ‘carnal’ world in
which the narrative began up to the contemplation of a transcendent
world whose reality is validated by the word.
In the terms of Bunyan’s narrative one can gain entrance to
heaven only by learning to understand the visible world of ordinary
experience in the metaphoric terms established by the Word: as an
alien, and ultimately insubstantial country through which God’s
people must journey until they attain the ultimate satisfaction of
communion with God. To accept this mode of thought is to see in the
Exodus a pattern explaining and assuring the deliverance of the
faithful of all items.
8.4 PILGRIM’S PROGRESS AS AN ALLEGORY
The allegory in “The Pilgrim’s Progress” helps to give us a

clear idea of the various difficulties and obstacles, temptations
that lie in the path of any one who wants to reach God. Christian is
the personification of an ideal Christian, simple, honest and good,
who has an earnest desire to save his soul and secure eternal life in
Heaven.
Christian in a restless frame of mind, is weighed down by the

consciousness of his sins. Domestic happiness leaves him cold. He
is sick of the world and its sins. His thoughts are on salvation.
His family and his friends first treat this as a physical ailment and
later deride him as crazy. Thus the path to salvation is shown to
him and all alone he sets out to seek it.
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Christian’s dramatic flight from his family-with his fingers

in his ears and crying, Life, Life, Eternal Life the expect the
Gospel demands that one loses his life in order to save it (Mark
8:35) and further that one leaves his family in order to follow
Christ(Luke 15:26) if one chooses the way of Christ, one will
necessarily appear foolish in the eyes of the world.
The world tries to drag him back. Very soon despondency
overtakes him. This is natural as he is mentally lonely. Soon
however he gets over it. The world in the shape of Mr. Wiseman tries
to claim him back. For a short while he is taken in by Mr. Wiseman,
Soon he recollects the worlds of God’s Interpreter and cleanses his
mind of all thoughts of self-indulgence.
He receives good advice and directions from men of good will

and this encourages him. He meets one who interprets to him God’s
ways and illustrates the dangers of worldly temptations. This
spiritual guidance from one well versed in the spirit of God’s
teachings is of great help to him. And soon his conscience is
cleared of its sins and he feels very free and light-hearted. But he
is yet open to attacks from the world. Formalism and hypocrisy try
to show him short-cuts to heaven. But he sufficiently developed to
discard such devices as signs of self-deception.
The process acquiring spiritual exaltation is very rigorous.

Christian has his weakness in him. He relaxes and indulges in sloth.
This weakens his moral tone and so he becomes a prey to timidity and
lack of confidence. But his better nature asserts itself and be soon
repents his temporary lapse. He bravely faces the dangers on the way
and this matures new aspects in his mind. In the Palace, Beautiful,
Discretion, Prudence, Pity and Charity enlighten him and give him a
new armour to resist the physical terrors of the world in the shape
of Appollyon. Then for a while he has to grope along amidst the
fogs, pitfalls and dangers of the world, through the valley of the
Sh a d o w o f Death. By keeping his mind resolutely on God he wins
through. And with this be acquires a great mental equipment,
unshakable faith in God. He easily sees through. And with this he
acquires a great mental equipment, unshakable faith in God. He
easily sees through Talkative who cares only for the form and not the
spirit of religion.
T h e w o rldly forces beset him again in another guise. In the

Vanity Fair all the allurements, wiles and wickedness of the world
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beset him. With staunch faith he overcomes these. He develops in

this process another noble quality, Hope. He is by now morally well
developed and is able to nail By-ends lies. Wealth ceases to hold
any allurement for him. He ignores the call of wealth as reflected in
the episode with Demas.
He indulges himself and pays the price of easy by getting his

mind clouded over with doubt. Soon he becomes very desperate.
Despair and hope wage a war in his heart. Despair is driven off and
hope triumphs. Now he is on an elevated mental plane from which he is
able to glimpse the truth of heaven and also understand the danger of
worldly indulgence and ignorance. The delectable mountains depict
his high mental and moral development.
He is proof against ignorance. But flattery leads him astray

and lands him in trouble. He however gets over this weakness too.
Yet another obstacle in the shape of Atheism confronts him. But this
has no power over Christian. Still the danger of falling a pray to
self-indulgence remains a constant threat. Christian gets over this
by concentrating on God and His teachings.
And finally he faces death. He has still some worldly

weakness in him. His hope of salvation is shaken and he begins to be
afraid of death. But ultimately hope sustains him and he faces death
with courage. Thus he reaches heaven. The entire pilgrimage is a
figurative illustration of the psychological struggle inside man who
wants to attain God. Man can attain mental and moral eminence only
by battling against his base inclinations i.e. by conquering his
thirst for worldly pleasures. Fortitude, austerity, faith, hope are
the primary qualities needed by man to attain salvation.
The Doubting Castle episode proves that Christian can lose the
way at a relatively late point in the journey through overconfidence,
not that he has failed to grow in faith and understanding. In
Doubting Castle Christian is baffled and dismayed by the fact that it
seems impossible either to defeat his enemy or to get his key. The
brilliance of the episode lies in the fact that Bunyan makes escape
seemingly so difficult yet paradoxically so easy; Christian has only
to remember that Scripture has provided him with his own key, a
solution that comes to him as a result of prayer.
Christian again lapses into doubt at the River of Death, this
time a paralyzing ‘ darkness and horror’ that causes him to forget
temporarily the ‘ sweet refreshments’ he had met with in the way and
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the assurance they had given him of reaching the ‘ Land that flows
with Milk and Honey’. Bunyan’s emphasis upon the ‘ sorrows of
death’ does not subvert the metaphor of the journey it merely
indicates his acute sense of the dangers of this final obstacle, even
for those who have persevered in the way of holiness. Reaching the
plane of assurance represented by Beulah does not relieve one of the
necessity of making the crossing.
Christian continues to be vulnerable to doubt throughout his
pilgrimage because Bunyan believed that faith could never be
completely secure in this world. But his doubts are prompted by very
different kinds of trials, appropriate to different stages of the
journey, and in each case we are reminded of what has gone before.
Christiana’s journey presents a clearer, less interrupted sense of
progress, of course, because her way is so much easier.
To understand the nature of Christian’s spiritual progress
one must look more closely at the stages of his journey, particularly
at his experience in such places as the Delectable Mountains and
the land of Beulah. Those episodes that mark Christians growing
awareness of divine favour serve to establish the truth embodied
in the biblical metaphor of the journey and hence to convince the
reader that the goal for which Christian strives is real.
Bunyan’s narrative insists that the claims of the way and
those of the world are mutually exclusive. The pilgrim must set his
course ‘against Wind and Tide’ as Christian increasingly realizes.
Faithful relates that he has learned to ignore the ‘ hectoring
spirits of the world’ because he recognizes that ‘ what God says, is
best, though all the men in the world are against it.
The Vanity Fair episode constitutes the most important
statement of the warfare between spirit and flesh in The Pilgrim’s
Progress. The whole episode illustrates the necessity of choosing
between two modes of life that are irreconcilable, between ‘ carnal
sense’ and ‘things to come’, to use the distinction made for
Christian by Interpreter. All the assumptions about the end of human
activity that underlie Vanity Fair, and the indulgence of ‘ fleshly
appetite’ that they allow, can be comprehended in the term ‘ carnal
sense’.
The Valley of Humiliation, the Valley of the Shadow of Death,
the Delectable Mountains, and the other landscapes that Christian
must traverse define a world that is open only to those who believe
in the Word sufficiently to seek the goal that he does. These
landscapes do not exist for Pliable, who refuses to enter the
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spiritual country to which they belong, or for Atheist, who cannot

find it. The topography of this country is determined largely by
Bunyan’s experience of Scripture, and the key to Christian’s progress
through it is his understanding of the power of the word.
Christian’s near disaster in his struggle with Apollyon
suggests that this understanding does not come easily. The education
in the Gospel that he has received from Evangelist, Interpreter, and
the inhabitants of House Beautiful prepares him to resist Apolyon’s
arguments successfully. Yet his failure in the physical combat that
follows suggests that Christian is deficient in faith and needs the
intervention of the Spirit to be able to manage his sword.
The Gate by which the pilgrim enters upon the way is Christ,
according to the symbolism by which Jesus had declared, ‘I am the
door’. This identification of Christ with the Gate is explicit in
Part II (‘the Gate which is Christ’) of The Pilgrim’s Progress but is
clearly implicit here, so that the Christian begins with the
incarnation and moves on toward God. Men tend to assume they can know
God as he is, often judging Christ by his conformity to a prior human
image of God. Christianity, however, denies that finite and sinful
creatures can know God, with any great clarity, apart from Christ.
Bunyan thus indicates that the pilgrim knows virtually nothing of God
until he enters the Gate which God has provided, and that henceforth,
his knowledge increases as he advances along the route of pilgrimage.
From the total number of the pilgrims in both parts of the
allegory, we see the various types of Christian life and t h e
problems, temptations, and joys incident to each. Not all the
pilgrims set out for the same reason, and each has a somewhat
different experience of the way. Christian leaves the City of
Destruction because of a compelling sense of doom, and a sort of
numinous fear, so that he sets out with less sense of his goal than
of his need.
As Augustine put it, ‘Christ as God is the fatherland where we
are going; Christ as man is the way by which we go’. The way is the
same, but the wayfarers differ and, therefore, so does the wayfaring.
Each learns for himself and in terms of his own character ‘how to act
faith’ (213), to use the words of Christiana, and each increases in
the love for God and for God’s people, which is the only ultimately
satisfactory motive for acting the Christian faith.
The pilgrims who complete the journey from destruction to
fulfillment do so out of ‘the love that they bear to the King of this
place’(172), and they continue in the way only because, like
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Christian, they prefer the person, company, and servants of Christ

over the enticements of Apollyon (6I-2). No other motivation is
ultimately sufficient to sustain the pilgrims in the completion of so
difficult a way. Each who perseveres does so in order that, as young
Samuel puts it, ‘I may see God, and serve him without weariness; that
I may see Christ and love him everlastingly; that I may have that
fullness of the Holy Spirit in me, that I can by no means here
enjoy’(238). Heaven is sought not because it is ‘a palace and state
most blessed’, but because God is the center of heaven, and it is
only for that reason that heaven is the palace and state most
blessed(238).
The love of God, then, is clearly central. Without it, man’s
alienation cannot be overcome, or his fulfillment attained. We have
developed in some detail, in Chapter 3, the threefold alienation from
which Adams suffers, as his sin sets him at odds with God, with his
neighbour, and with himself. This isolation of the self is overcome,
as we have seen, only by reconciliation with God, and this
reconciliation comes in its turn only through the action of God
himself, in and through Christ.
In Christ, God acts so that his justice and mercy, his power
and his love, are at one, and it is only through such divine action
that man can be rescued from imprisonment to his own self-critical or
self-satisfied self. No merely human efforts will suffice, for, as
Hopeful says of himself, man commits enough sin in one duty to seal
his own isolation; Augustine says, our greatest virtues are but
splendid vices (149). Man, then, must enter through the one Gate.
8.5 Let us Sum Up
The reader is led through his own stages of pilgrimage in the

way of the cross as he reads “The Pilgrim’s Progress”. The Pilgrim’s
Progress” is one of the very few books, which may be read over
repeatedly at different times and each time with a new and different
pleasures for it is a lively portrait of everyman’s life in
pilgrimage for it is a lively portrait of everyman’s life in
pilgrimage in the way of the cross.

1. Account for the popularity of Bunyan’s on the Pilgrim’s
Progress.
2. Write an essay on the Pilgrim’s Progress as an allegory.
3. What are the significant features of Bunyan’s writing?
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8.7 References
Raju, Anand Kumar The Pilgrims’ Progress New Delhi, Macmillan Indian
Ltd., 1999.
Keeble. N.H. John Banyan : The Pilgrims Progress Oxford :

Oxford University Press 1984.
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Unit – IV
Lesson - 9
JONATHAN SWIFT
GULLIVER’S TRAVELS
Contents

9.1 Introduction
9.2 Life & Works of Swift

9.3 Outline of the Story
9.4 Gulliver’s Travels as an Allegory
9.5 The Moral Vision of Swift
9.6 Gulliver’s Travels as a Satire on Man.
9.7 Gulliver’s Travels as a Political Satire
9.8 Gulliver’s Travels as a Satire on Humanity
9.9 Style and Technique of Gulliver’s Travels
9.10 Let Us Sum Up
9.12 References
This lesson aims at presenting you all things about Jonathan

Swift; a greatest prose satirist of the eighteenth century. That
includes his life and works, outline of the Gulliver’s Travels, his
style and techniques, and his moral vision.
9.1 Introduction
Swift is the greatest prose satirist of the eighteenth

century. No other major English writer is so charged with the spirit
of satire as Swift. His entire work is satirical in tone. “Swift's
apparent malignity arose from a great love of his fellow-creatures,
soured by continual disappointment in their nobility, and from a
love of truth and of righteousness that on every hand he saw trampled
under foot." His personal life also contributed in making him a
ferocious satirist. "He was disappointed in material ambition, a
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victim of hope deferred ; far sadder, he was debarred from conjugal

love, either by his fear of madness or by some other and more
mysterious ban." His works are a satire on humanity. He uses irony to
drive home a point. He sounds profounder depths and exhibits a cosmic
humour.
9.2 LIFE & WORKS OF SWIFT
Jonathan Swift was born in Dublin on the 30th of

November, 1667, of English parents living in Ireland.
He was graduated from Trinity College, Dublin, with
some difficulty because of his refusal to study logic
and he left Ireland for England at the time of the
Revolution (1688). His writings rather strangely
began with a group of Pindaric Odes, of which he
published only one. At Moor Park he wrote his first
and very important prose. A Tale of a Tub and The
Battle of the Books, which he published in 1704.
Gulliveer’s Travels was published in 1726.
The Demands of the reading public during the

Augustan age was met by the growth of periodicals
like “The Idler”, “The Tatler”, “The Spectator”, “The
Examiner”. This age was marked by a love of reason,
proportion and balance. Thus this era has been
rightly named. The Age of Prose and Reason.
Swift’s early prose masterpieces – A Tale of a

Tub and The Battle of the Books had their origin in
the so called quarrel between the Ancients and the
Moderns, which Temple’s essay of Ancient and Modern
Learning (1690) had fanned into flame. Swift
completed his masterpiece Guliver’s Travels in 1725.
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As a whole Gulliver’s Travels has the multiple

intention of a masterpiece; it can be read by
children for its narrative and descriptive charm; it
can be read by learned historians as an allegory of
the political life of Swift’s time; it can be read as
a burlesque of voyage literature; it can be read as a
masterpiece of misanthropy; it is perhaps best read
as the ingenious reflections of a thoughtful man on
the abuses of human reason.
..2..
In the first voyage a complex political allegory
is at work based on Swift’s own experience of
politics in Queen Ann’s reign. It focuses attention
on the corruptions of court life. The second voyage
takes Gulliver to the land of giants where the human
body seems loathsome when seen in its magnified form.
The satire reaches its climax in the denunciation of
the entire human race by the king. In the third
Voyage Swift attacks every kind of impractical
scholarship and vain philosophy and the absurd and
pretentious schemes of economist and promoters. The
fourth voyage to Hounhmland, where animal man, the
Yahoo, is contrasted with the “Perfection of nature”
seen in the Houyhnhnms who are figured as horses.
9.3 Outline of the Story
Gulliver”s Travels records four voyages of one

Lemuel Gulliver, and his adventures in four
astounding countries. The first book tells of his
voyage and shipwreck in Lilliput, where the
inhabitants are about as tall as one’s thumb, and all
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their acts and motives are on the same dwarfish

scale. In the petty quarrels of these dwarfs the
littleness of humanity is highlighted. The statesmen
who obtain place and favor by cutting monkey capers
on the tight rope before their sovereign, and the two
great parties, the Littleendians and Bigendians, who
plunge the country into civil war over the momentous
question of whether an egg should be broken on its
big or on its little end, are satires on the politics
of Swift’s own day and generation. The style is
simple and convincing; the surprising situations and
adventures are as absorbing as those of Defoe’s
masterpiece ; and altogether it is the most
interesting of Swift’s satires.
On the Second voyage Gulliver is abandoned in

Brobdingnag, where the inhabitants are giants, and
everything is done upon an enormous scale. The
meanness of humanity seems all the more detestable in
view of the greatness of these superior beings. When
Gulliver tells about his own people, their ambitions
and was and conquests, the giants can only wonder
that such great venom could exist in such little
insects.
In the third voyage Gulliver continue s h i s
adventures in Laputa, and this is a satire upon all
the scientists and philosophers. Laputa is a flying
island, held up in the air by a loadstone ; and all
the professors of the famous academmy at Lagado are
of the same airy constitution. The philospher who
worked eight years to extract sunshine from cucumbers
is typical of Swift’s satirtic treatment of all
193
scientific problems.
It is in this voyage that we hear of the

Struldbrugs, a ghastly race of men wtio are doomed to
live upon earth after losing hope and the desire for
life. The picture is all the more terrible in view
of the last years of Swift’s own life, in which he
was completed to live on, a burden to himself and his
friends.
In these three voyages the evident purpose is to

strip off the veil of habit and custom, with which
men deceive themselves, and show the crude vices of
humanity as Swift fancies he sees them. In the
fourth voyage the merciless satire is carried out to
its logical conclusion. This brings us to the land
of the Houyhnhnms, in which horses, superior and
intelligent creatures, are the ruling animals. All
our interest, however, is centered on the Yahoos, a
frightful race, having the form and appearance of
men, but living in unspeakable degradation.
There are four ‘books’ in Gulliver’s Travels:

the story of the ships doctor who goes first to the
land of people six inches tall to Lilliput, then to
Bobaingnay a land of giants seventy two feet tall to
Brobdingnag next to Laputa a Floating island and
other places and finally to the land of horses. As
he wrote to Pope : The chief end and purpose of my
labour is to vex the world rather than divert it.
In this satire Swift aims shrewd blows at
personal enemies, especially Robert Walpole, the
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first Prime Minister a Whig, a man known for

permitting and indulging in corruption and one who,
Swift felt sure, was keeping him from advancing. In
Lilliput Swift’s shows Walpole walking the tight-rope
an inch higher than the other ministers and managing
to keep his equilibrium, ridiculi n g w a l p o l e ’ s
‘agility’ in retaining office.
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9.4 GULLIVER’S TRAVELS AS AN ALLEGORY
In the words of Kathleen Williams, “Its sharp

contrast in method, with the grotesque figures of the
Laputans and the excursions into magic and
immortality, certainly breaks the atmosphere of moral
realism which pervades the voyages to Lilliput,
Brobdingnag, and Houyhnhnm-land; even the rational
horses belong to a world of morality, not of
fantasy…. "Voyage to Laputa" can be considered as an
allegorical presentation of the evils of a frivolous
attitude to life.” The flying island presents a
political philosophy and a comment on man’s
relationship to nature.
The balance of power, and the delicate relation-

ships which subsist between a monarch and those whom
he governs, could scarcely be better represented than
by conditions in Laputa and Balnibarbi. The Laputan
king, for all his knowledge of cosmic circumstance,
for all the ingenuity of his flying island, is yet
dependent upon the firm earth beneath him for every
movement Laputa can make; for all his theoretic
achievement man is, in practice, dependent upon and
circumscribed by other men and by laws of nature, of
which he can take a certain limited advantage but
which he can neither alter nor, finally, explain.
For example, the astronomers of Laputa,

although they have written "large Systems concerning
the Stone" whose movements control the course of the
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flying island, can give no better reason for the

inability of Laputa to rise above four miles, or to
move beyond the extent of the King's continental
dominions, than the self-evident one "That the
Magnetick Virtue does not extend beyond the Distance
of four Miles, and that the Mineral which acts upon
the Stone in the Bowels of the Earth, and in the Sea
about Six Leagues distant from the Shoar, is not
diffused through the whole Globe, but terminated with
the Limits of the King's Dominions. Their pursuit of
second causes ends in inscrutable mystery, which
their confident exposition can only conceal, not
clarify.
The Laputans have indeed lost their human

quality in their abnormal absorption in things remote
from the concerns of men. They make little physical
effect upon us, for their outer aspect is as
unnatural, as purely emblematic, as that of a
personification like Spenser's Occasion: "One of
their Eyes turned inward, and the other directly up
to the Zenith" because they are completely absorbed
in their own speculations and in the study of the
stars. Their interests are entirely abstract, and
they see nothing of the everyday practical world,
ignoring the knowledge of the senses.
They scorn the evidence of the sences, the

Laputans are “very bad Reasoners”. These strange
figures are akin not only to the mechanical operators
but more closely to the spider-like world-makers. One
197
eye looks outward, but only to a remote world of

abstractions where, in the regular motions of the
heavens, mathematics and music join. One eye looks
inward, to the mind where systems are spun out of a
"Native Stock," not built up from that basis of
observed fact which, however faulty our senses, is
yet the only material upon which our reason can work
constructively and practically. Laputan thinking
produces results as flimsy and useless as a cobweb—
G u l l i v e r ' s i l l -fitting soil/file devastated
countryside of Balnibarbi.
The Laputans are absorbed in music, mathematics and

astronomy. They spend hours at their instruments,
preparing themselves to join in the music of the
spheres, which they claim to be able to hear. Since
mankind is traditionally deaf to this music because
of the grossness of the senses through sin, the claim
implies that the Laputans believe themselves to have
escaped from such tyranny.
The Laputans cut themselves off completely from all

that is humanly creative and constructive. Even their
food approaches as nearly as possible to the rarefied
atmosphere in which they live, for their meat is
carved into geometrical shapes and their poultry
6
trussed up "into the Form of Fiddles." Nor have
they any conception of physical or sensuous beauty,
since they see beauty only in mathematical
abstractions, and judge not by sense impressions but
by an arbitrary relation of animal forms to abstract
198
shapes existing in their minds: "If they would, for

Example, praise the Beauty of a Woman, or any other
Animal, they describe it by Rhombs, Circles,
Parallelograms, Ellipses, and other Geometrical
Terms; or else by Words of Art drawn from Musick . .
. the whole Compass of their Thoughts and Mind, being
shut up within the two forementioned Sciences."
They do not realize that the world of human

beings cannot be adequately dealt with in
mathematical terms, and their wives, as a
consequence, have fallen into matter, escaping
whenever possible into a life altogether physical and
degraded, as exaggeratedly animal as that of their
husbands is exaggeratedly intellectual king has no
interest in "the Laws, Government, History, Religion,
or Manners of the Countries" Gulliver has visited,
and his realm of Balnibarbi is chaotic. Gulliver
"could not discover one Ear of Corn, or Blade of
Grass" except in a few places, during his journeys,
and our minds revert to the kingdom of Brobdingnag,
the land which has been called a "simple Utopia of
abundance," where government is conducted with
practical good will and a due regard for traditional
wisdom, and where the King regards his task as one of
promoting increase and life, making "two Ears of
Corn, or two Blades of Grass, to grow where only one
grew before." The Laputans, on the other hand,
produce a world of death, and the results of their
efforts are purely destructive because their aims are
impossibly high and are unrelated to real conditions.
199
Some day, they say, "a Palace may be built in a

Week, of Materials so durable as to last for ever
without repairing. All the Fruits of the Earth shall
come to Maturity at whatever Season we think fit to
chose, and increase an Hundred Fold more than they do
at present; with innumerable other happy Proposals."
10
In the meantime, houses are ruined, land
uncultivated, and people starving, and the only
result of Laputan enterprise on the prosperous estate
of the old-fashioned Lord Munodi has been to destroy
the mill which had long provided his family and
tenants, in order to make way for one which should,
on scientific principles, be better, but which
somehow fails to work. . . . That Munodi, the one
successful landowner in Balnibarbi, should be a
traditionalist is only to be expected; "being not of
an enterprizing Spirit, he was content to go on in
the old Forms; to live in the Houses his Ancestors
had built, and act as they did in every Part of Life
without Innovation."
The projects of Lagado are, in fact, conducted

in an atmosphere similar to that of A Tale of a Tub,
an atmosphere of aimless activity, distorted values,
and a perversion of things from their proper purpose
even to the point of removing all life and meaning
from them. The results produced are woolless sheep,
dead dogs, horses whose living hooves are turned t o
stone. The mechanism of the Tale exists in Lagado
too, in the machine which is to replace the thinking
and creating mind of man and will, by pure chance,
200
eventually produce "Books in Philosophy, Poetry,

Politicks, Law, Mathematicks and Theology."
The effect of Laputa and its subject kingdom is

of a wilful abandoning of the physical and of the
vital for the abstract, the mechanical, and the
unproductive. The prevailing images here are not of
real people and animals, even "little odious vermin,"
but of ruins, mechanical constructions, men who look
like allegorical figures and women who are thought of
as rhomboids or parallelograms. Animals are only
negatively present, as in the pathetic horses and
sheep of the Academy. Even Laputa itself is a
mechanical device, and the flying island expresses
not only the Laputans' desertion of the common earth
of reality but their conversion of the universe to a
mechanism and of living to a mechanical process.
A gloomy enough picture of both the ancient and the

modern world, and upon this ghostly history follows
the most somber episode of all, that of the
Struldbrugs of Luggnagg, in which the lesson of
Laputa with its naive hopes, its misplaced ambition,
and its eventual sterility is repeated with more open
seriousness. A right sense of values, a proper
attitude to living, is here suggested not through the
handling of contemporary aims and habits of thought
but through the figure of man, immortal yet still
painfully recognizable. Gulliver, hearing of the
immortals, cries out "as in a Rapture," exclaiming
upon the wisdom and happiness which they must have
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achieved. And he is only too willing to tell his

hearers how he would plan his life, if he were a
Struldbrug, to bring the greatest possible benefit to
himself and his country. In fact, of course, the
immortal and a ged creatures, though free from the
fear of death, are yet as full of fears and
wretchedness as any other men: being what we are, we
will always find occasion to display those vices
which as human beings we •will always have, however
long we may live. The Struldbrugs certainly do not
keep their minds free and disengaged, and for them
the prospect of endless life does not conjure up
visions of endless improve-nient in wisdom and
virtue.
They regard their immortality as a "dreadful

Prospect" even as other men regard their death, and
indeed they long to die as did the wretched Sibyl in
Petronius's Satyricon, regarding with great jealousy
those of their acquaintance who go "to an Harbour of
Rest, to which they themselves never can hope to
16
arrive." Immortal man is still man, limited in his
capacity for growth, sinful, fearful, dissatisfied;
the somber simplicity of the passage, and indeed of
the whole of the visit to Glubbdubdrib, is
reminiscent of Johnson's methods rather than of
Swift's, and the message is essentially similar.
Gulliver, who has dreamed of being a king, a general,
or a great lord, and now dreams of being a
Struldbrug, has to learn the same lesson as the
Prince of Abyssinia: that life is a serious,
202
difficult, and above all a moral undertaking, and

thought no Tyrant could invent a Death into which I
would not run with Pleasure from such a Life,"
The voyage to Laputa is a voyage of illusion,

the escape from facts, ends in a darker reality than
any Gulliver has yet encountered. Gulliver himself,
in this book, becomes a part of the world of illusion
and distorted values. Already in the earlier voyages
the shifting, inconsistent quality which Gulliver
shares with all Swift's satiric mouthpieces has been
made to contribute to effects of relativity, and to
suggest the hold of physical circumstances over
mankind. That he is, generally, a different man in
Brobdingnag and in Lilliput is made into part of
Swift's presentation of human nature. In the "Voyage
to Laputa," any still surviving notion that Gulliver
is a safe guide through these strange countries is
ended.
9.5 The Moral vision of Swift
Samuel H. Monk remarks “Gulliver's Travels is a

complex book. It is, of course, a satire on four
asgects of man: the physical, the political, the
intellectual, and the mofalTThe last three are
inseparable, and when Swift writes ofone he always
has in view the others. It is also a brilliant parody
oftravel literature; and it is at once science
fiction and a witty parodyof science fiction. It
expresses savage indignation at the folios, vices,
203
/and stupidities of men, and everywhere implicit in

the book as a whole is an awareness of man's tragic
insufficiency. But at the same time it is a great
comic masterpiece, a fact that solemn and too-
sensitive readers often miss.’
Swift's satire was written in anger, contempt, or

disgust, but it was written to promote self-knowledge
in the faith that self-knowledge will lead to right
action. Swift did not wish us to laugh but beyond the
mirth and liveliness are gravity, anger, anxiety,
frustration and he meant us to experience them fully,
there is an abyss below this fantastic world the
abyss of corrupt human nature. He is the great master
of shock. With perfect control of tone and pace, with
perfect timing, he startles us into an awareness of
this abyss and its implications. We are forced to
gaze into the stupid, evil, brutal heart of humanity,
and when we do, the laughter that Swift has evoked is
abruptly silenced. The surface of the book is comic,
but at its center is tragedy, transformed through
style and tone into icy irony.”
Gulliver in all respects is a goodman. He is

simple, direct, uncomplicated. At the outset he is
full of naive good will, and, though he grows less
naive and more critical as a result of his voyaging
among remote nations, he retains his benevolence
throughout the first three voyages. The four voyages
"into several remote nations of the world," are so
arranged as to attain a climactic intensification of
204
tone as we travel through increasing darkness into

the black heart of humanity.jBut the forward movement
is interrupted by the third voyage, a macabre scherzo
on science, politics, economics as they are practiced
by madmen—Swift's term for those who misuse and abuse
human reason. The first two voyages, Gulliver is made
aware of his disproportion;" placed on this isthmus
of a middle state, in the voyage to Lilliput he looks
down the chain of being and knows himself an awkward,
if kindly, giant in that delicate kingdom; in the
voyage to Brobdingnag he looks up the chain and
discovers a race of "superior beings," among whom his
pride shrivels through the humiliating Knowledge of
his own physical insignificance. The emphasis here is
upon size, the physical; but it is none the less
notable that Lilliputia calls into operation
Gulliver's engaging kindliness and gentleness, and
that Brobdingnag brings out his moral and physical
courage.
Gulliver, who seemed lovable and humane among

the Lilliputians,-appears an ignominious afld morally
insensitive being in contrast to the enlightened and
benevolent Brobdingnagians. The Lilliputian's
ingeniously capture the Hercules whom chance has cast
on their shore; they humanely solve the problem of
feeding him; their pretty land and their fascinating
little city take our fancy. But in the end what do
they prove to be? prideful, envious, rapacious,
treacherous, cruel, , vengeful, jealous, and
hypocritical. Their primitive social and political
205
systems have been corrupted; they are governed by an

Emperor who is ambitious totally to destroy the
neighboring kingdom, and by courtiers and ministers
who are chosen not for their fitness for office, but
for their skill in walking the tightrope, leaping
over sticks or .creeping under them.
"Climbing," Swift once remarked, "is performed

in the same Posture with Creeping." These little
people, like Gulliver himself, are an instance of the
disproportion of man. Their vices, their appetites,
their ambitions, their passions are not commensurate
with their tiny stature. They appear to Gulliver as
he and his kind must appear to the higher orders of
beings—as venomous and contemptibly petty. In
Brobdingnag we meet creatures ten times the size of
Europeans, 'and we share Gulliver's anxiety lest
their moral natures be as brutish as their bodies.
But the reverse is true; and through a violent and
effective shift of symbol, tone, and point of view,
In the questions which the king asks and which

Gulliver meets with only an embarrassed silence, the
voice of morality is heard condemning the
institutions of the modern world. And the verdict of
a moral being on European man is given in words as
icy as controlled contempt can make them: "But, by
what I have gathered from your own Relation, and the
Answers I have with much Pains wringed and extorted
from you; I cannot but conclude the Bulk of your
Natives to be the most pernicious Race of little
206
odious Vermin that Nature ever suffered to crawl upon

the Surface of the Earth." Such a conclusion is
inevitable, for the King is high-minded, benevolent,
and, in Swift's sense of the word, rational: i.e., he
and his people think practically, not theoretically;
concretely, not metaphysically; simply, not
intricately. Brobdingnag is a Swiftian Utopia of
com.mon good sense and morality; and Gulliver,
conditioned by the corrupt society from which he.
comes, appears naive, blind, and insensitive to moral
values/His account of the history of England in the
seventeenth century evokes the King's crushing
retort: “... it was only an Heap of Conspiracies,
Rebellions, Murders, Massacres, Revolutions,
Banishments; the very worst Effects that Avarice,
Faction, Hypocracy, Perfidiousness, Cruelty, Rage,
Madness, Hatred, Envy, Lust, Malice, and Ambition
could produce.”
Houyhnhnms are the embodiment of pure reason.

They know neither love nor grief nor lust nor
ambition. They cannot lie; indeed they have no word
for lying and are hard put to it to understand the
meaning of opinion, Their society is an aristocracy,
resting upon the slave labor of the Yahoos and the
work of an especially-bred servant class. With icy,
stoical calm they face the processes of life—
marriage, childbirth, accident, death. Their society
is a planned society that has achieved the mild
anarchy that many Utopian dreamers have aspired to.
They practice eugenics, and since they know no lust,
207
they control the size of their population; children

are educated by the state; their agrarian economy is
supervised by a democratic council; government is
entirely conducted by periodic assemblies.
The Houyhnhnms feel natural |iuman affection for

each other, but they love every one equally. It is
Gulliver, not Swift, who is dazzled by the Houyhnhnms
' and who aspires to rise above the human condition
and to become pure intelligence as these horses and
the angels are the most powerful single symbol in all
Swift is the Yahoos. They <Jo not represent Swift's
view of man, but rather of the bestial element in
man—the unenlightened, unregenerate, i r r a t i o n a l
element in human nature—the id or the libido.
From the moment that the banished Gulliver

despairingly sets sail from Houyhnhnm land, his
pride, his misanthropy, his madness are apparent.
Deluded by his worship of pure reason, he commits the
err: r of the Houyhnhnms in equating human beings
with the Yahoos, Cy ired by a Portuguese crew and
forced to return from sullen solitude to humanity, he
trembles between -fear and hatred. The captain of the
ship, Don Pedro de Mendez, like Gulliver himself,
shares the nature of the Houyhnhnm and the Yahoo; and
like the Gulliver of the first voyage he is tolerant,
sympathetic, kindly, patient, and charitable; but
Gulliver can no longer recognize these traits in a
human being. With the myopic vision of the
Houyhnhnms, he perceives only the Yahoo and is
208
repelled by Don Pedro's clothes, food.
“In the words of Gulliver my Reconcilement to

the Yahoo-kind in general might not be so difficult,
if they would be content with those Vices and Follies
only which Nature hath entitled them to. I am not in
the least provoked at the Sight of a Lawyer, a
Pickpocket, a Colonel, a Fool, a Lord, a Gamester, a
Politician, a Whoremunger, a Physician, an Evidence,
a Suborner, an Attorney, a Traytor, or the like: This
is all according to the due Course of Things: But
when I behold a Lump of Deformity, and Diseases both
of Body and Mind, smitten with Pride, it immediately
breaks all the Measures of my Patience; neither shall
I ever be able to comprehend how such an Animal and
such a Vice could tally together”.7
The grim joke is that Gulliver himself is the

supreme instance of a creature smitten with pride.
His education has somehow failed. He has voyaged into
several remote nations of the world, but the journeys
v ere not long, because of course he has never moved
outside the bounds of human nature. The countries he
visited, like the Kingdom of Heaven, are all within
us. The ultimate danger of these travels was
precisely the one that destroyed Gulliver's humanity—
the danger that in his explorations he would discover
something that he was not strong enough to face. This
befell him, and he took refuge in a sick and morbid
pride that alienated him from his species and taught
him i the gratitude of the Pharisee—"Lord, I thank
209
Thee that I am not.
9.6 Gulliver’s Travels as a Satire on Man.
Gulliver's Travels is divided in to four books recounting the

adventures of Gulliver in four lands. The main burden of Gulliver’s
Travels is satirical and Swift set out to show man in the most
despicable form. Swift once said to Pope, "I heartily hate and detest
that animal called man," and this book is an elaboration of that
attitude. He magnifies man into a giant, and then diminishes him into
a manikin, and he finds him wicked, insolent and mean. He regards man
in his wisdom, and he finds him a fool. In despair, in the last book
o f t h e Travels, he turns from man altogether, and in the brute
creation he discovers a charity and sagacity before which humanity
grovels as a creature , beastly beyond measure.
In the first book of Gulliver's Travels, Gulliver's ship is

wrecked at Lilliput where the inhabitants are six inches tall— except
their emperor, "taller by almost the breadth of my nail". Here the
satire obviously consists in showing human motives at work on a small
scale, and in suggesting by the likeness of the Lilliputians to
ourselves, the littleness of human affairs, and especially t h e
pettiness of political intrigues. The arts by which the officers of
the government keep their places, such as cutting capers on a tight
rope for the entertainment of the emperors, remind us of the quality
of statesmanship in both Swift's day and our own. The dispute over
the question at which end an egg should properly be broken which
plunged Lilliput into the civil war, is a comment on ' the
seriousness of party divisions in the greater world.
Gulliver's next voyage, recounted in the second book, is to

Brobdingnang, where the people are as large in comparison with man as
the Lilliputians are small. Once more his adventures are a tale of
wonder behind which lurks Swift's contempt for man's meanness.
Gulliver tells the giant beings by whom he is a mere manikin, of the
world from which he has come. Among other things he tells of the
invention of gunpowder and the use of instruments of warfare. "The
king was struck with horror at the description If had given of these
terrible engines. He was amazed how so important and grovelling an
insect as I could entertain these inhuman ideas."
The first two books of the Travels, in spite of the satirical
210
tone,
have a charm and vivacity that delight the old and the young. The
satire
lurks in the allegory, but it is so delicately tinselled over that it
does
not repel. The crowded incidents are plausible and lively, and they
are often spiced with a quaint and alluring humour.
Here his comments upon mankind are shrewd and arresting, as

well as satirical,
There is playfulness of fancy, a lightness of touch about the two
books and a simplicity of treatment that gives it a readier access of
appeal.
In the third book we have Gulliver's voyage to Laputa and

other curious places embodying Swift's contempt for pedantry and for
useless 'scientific' experiment. In the fourth voyage a burning
indictment of man's tortuous and sly reasoning as compared to the
noble inhabitants of' Houyhnhnm land is highlighted who within the
shapes of horses embody 'perfection of nature.' The beastly Yahoos
represent Swift's conception of man living in a degenerate state of
nature. The evil instincts of 'civilized' men are here again bitterly
portrayed.
9.7 GULLIVER’S TRAVELS AS A POLITICAL SATIRE
T h e s i x -inch high creatures of lilliput are

perfectly conceived to show the mental and moral
smallness of man, the pettiness of the concerns about
which we are so pompous and self important. For
Swift eighteenth century party politics, with its
struggles for office and for court favour, was one of
the areas of human activity where such smallness and
pretensions could be seen.
Gulliver’s adventures in Lilliput are riddled
with more allusions to contemporary political evens
211
and personalities than any other part of the travels:

Part I of Gulliver’s Travels, ostensibly a satire on
human greatness, can be seen, if one looks a little
deeper, to be simply on attack on England, on the
dominant Whig Party and on the war with France.
The Tiny ruler of Lilliput whose c o u n t r y
measures twelve miles round is no mere king but the
mighty Emperor, delight and terror of the Universe
whose head strikes against the Sun. At court,
Gulliver sees the candidates for great office
competing before the Emperor, and the skill they are
required to show is calculated by Swift to point to
the kind of quality needed for political success
under George. I. The fact that a Lilliputian rope
looks to Gulliver like a slender white thread
increases our sense of the dexterous balance required
for survival in the precarious world of eighteenth
century politics. Similarly the art of jumping over
or crawling under stick for the reward of what looks
to Gulliver like a colored silk thread-the ribbons of
the order of the Garter (blue), Bath (red) and
Thistle (green) suggests both the subservience
demanded by Lilliputian Emperor and the worthlessness
of the honour for which the ‘great persons’ compete.
Swift of course, disapproved of George I’s government
led by the Whig Sir Robert Walpole. Under Walpole’s
leadership political life was thought by many to be
more than usually corrupt, and his politics were
disliked by Swift. Walpole figures in the story as
the supremely skilful rope dancer Flimnap. The
cushion that broke his fall represents the Duchess of
212
Kendal, one of George I’s mistresses. Reldresal is

thought to be Lord, Cateret, a personal friend of
Swift’s but a political opponent in the affair of
wood’s half pence. Many of the details of the
Lilliputian political scene, and of Gulliver’s
relations with the Emperor and his ministers relate
to England under George I and his predecessor Queen
Anne.
In his account of the two parties in the country
distinguished by the use of high heels and low heels,
Swift satirises English Political parties, and t h e
intrigues that centred around the Prince of Wales.
Religious feuds were laughed at in an account of a
problem which was dividing the people; ‘Should eggs
be broken at the big end or the little end?’ All this
is a reference to current politics at the time of
Swift. Gulliver stands largely for Belingbroke, the
secretary of the state from 1710 – 1714.
In Lilliput, although Gulliver is under a strong

guard, he is unavoidably expressed to the
‘Impertinence’ and malice’ of the ‘rabble’ some of
whom sheet arrows at him. But the colonel delivers
six of the ring leaders into his hands. Gulliver
frightens each one by pretending he will eat the man
alive and then setting them free. It was under
Bolingbroke, as Secretary of State that the
Government was trying to stamp out journalistic
opposition by means of frequent arrests rather than
by court action. Swift, libeled like the government
has thus created an allegorical detail from
Belingbroke’s method of dealing with the dart-
213
throwing hack writers of 1710-1714.
The fire in the palace is put off by Gulliver

urinating over it. Case interprets it as the Treaty
of Utrecht ending the war of the Spanish Succession.
Gulliver’s story is based on Bolinbroke’s adventures,
with only minor references to Oxford. Swift mentions
the displeasure of the Emperor of Lilliput when
Gulliver makes friends with the ambassadors from
Blufuscu and agrees to visit their emperor, thus
creating a suspicion of high treason. The proposed
visit to the French Court, and the suspicion of his
disaffection would be due to Bolinbroke’s having seen
the Pretender during that visit. The fourth article
of the impeachment against Gulliver for treason
corresponds to that against Belingbroke and
Gulliver’s flight to Blefuscu is a close parallel of
Boling broke’s flight to France in 1715.
Lilliputians are proud, envious, rapacious,
treacherous, cruel, vengeful, jealous, and
hypocritical. Their emperor is ambitious totally to
destroy the neighbouring king. The Lilliputians, like
the nations, regard accession of strength primarily
as a means to overcome their rivals. Though Gulliver
is willing to defeat the aggressive intentions of the
Blefuscans by capturing their navy, he draws the line
firmly at being used to subjugate and enslave them.
To punish him for this the Lilliputians states-man
resolve to put him to death. The first voyage exposes
man in his myopic self- esteem.
Thus the High heels and the low heels are the
214
Tories and the wigs, the Big and Little endians

stand for the catholics and the protestants, and
Lilliput and Blefuscu correspond to England and
France. Firth identified skyresh Bolgolam, Gulliver’s
chief opponent, with the earl of Nottingham, who
became a personal enemy of swift in the years before
1714. A.E. Case postulated that Gulliver’s career in
Lilliput represents the joint political fortunes of
Oxford and Boling broke during the latter half of
Anne’s reign, when the two men shared the leadership
of the Tory party. The inventory of his personal
effects refers to the attempt by the whigs in that
year to implicate Harley in the treason committed by
one of the clerks in his office. His release
symbolizes Harley’s return to power in 1710, the
conditions attached to it by Belgelam representing
Nottingham’s amendment on ‘No peace without Spain
which was added to the House of Lord’s address in
1711. The reaction of the empress is equated with
Queen’s growing disgust with Oxford’s policies and
person, and his final dismissal in 1714. The
Lilliputian ministers named by Gulliver as being his
main opponents case identified as members of George
I’s cabinet, Reldresal representing Townsend the
secretary of state who prepared dealing with the
fallen minister’s leniently.
Gulliver who has deserved the highest gratitude
from the Lilliputians, is impeached for capital
offences chiefly for making water within the
precincts of the burning royal palace Under – colour
of extinguishing the fire, and for traitorously
215
refusing to reduce the empires of Blefuscu to a

province and put to death all the Big Endians. The
courts debate en how to dispose off Gulliver is
corrosive satire, savage and irenic. They decide to
blind Gulliver and to starve him to death.
Then there is a delightful side kick at all

government officials. Because Gulliver was suc h a n
attraction people were flecking into town from all
over the island, leaving farming and household duties
in a state of neglect. The emperor therefore issues
proclamation saying that anybody who had seen
Gulliver once must return home and must not again
presume to come within fifty yards of his house
without license from court, whereby adds Gulliver,
‘the secretaries of state get considerable fees.’
In this voyage swift also attacks the time

honoured target, the disproportionate aims for which
nations go to war. The article of impeachment, and
especially the alleged reasons for Gulliver’s crimes,
are so flimsy that swift is here hitting at the
processes of the law in Britain. In Lilliput a set
of puny insects, or animalcules in human shapes are
ridiculously engaged in a affairs of importance. In
Broadening the monsters of enormous size are
employed in trifles. In the fourth voyage, he gives
an account of the political state of the political
state of Europe.
Gullivers conversations with the king of

Brobdingnag are often quoted as example of Swift’s
216
satiric force. In the first encounter with the king

that Gulliver reports, the king observes.
How contemptible a thing was human grander
which could be mimicked by such
2
diminutive Insects as I ,
At Brobdingnag Gulliver is part pet, part freak of

doll, and in each of these aspects his experiences
enable Swift to indulge in satirical exposure of
human pride and pretension. The King of Brodingbag
is horrified when Gulliver offers him a way to
complete dominion over his subjects by teaching him
to make gunpowder. The King is baffled by the
concept of political science as to how could the art
of government be reduced to a science? The King’s
comment makes us aware of our pettiness of the
disproportion of our recent of the shocking
difference between what we profess and what we are.
But Swift uses the good giants to strike an
unexpected blow at human vanity. Gulliver’s tiny
stature and comparative importance lend a particular
irony to his grandiose account of western
civilization. It is of course the ludicrous size of
his tiny visitor which prompts the king to comment on
the folly and pride of human beings.
Gulliver boasts to the king about thousand’s of

books in Europe written on politics and the art of
government. Again the king’s reaction is unexpected.
For him the art of government consists almost
entirely in common sense and reason, justice and
lenity, and speedy decisions in all legal cases.
217
Thus in his Gulliver’s Travels Swift has

successfully exposed the vain pride vain pride and
absurd whims of monarchs, the stupidity of men with
titles, the intrigues, of courtiers, the corruption
and greed of politicians, the false glory of
conquers, the treachery and meanness of court
favorites and the corrupt and unscrupulous nature of
politicians.
Gulliver who seemed lovable and humane among the
Lilliputians, appears an ignominious and morally
insensitive being in contrast to the enlightened and
benevolent Brobdingnagians. Since Gulliver is ‘We’,
his shame, insufficiency, and ludicrousness are ours.
The giant king is high-minded, benevolent and, in
Swift’s sense of the work, rational i.e., he and his
people thing practically, not theoretically,
concretely, not metaphysically, simply, not
intricately. Brobdingnag is a Swiftian Utepia of
common good sense and morality, and Gulliver
conditioned by the corrupt society from which he
comes, appears, native, blind and insensitive to
moral values.
In the country of faints, the animal imagery is

more explicit; the giant is half afraid of Gulliver,
as of ‘a small diangerous animal’s like a weasel.
The first impression Gulliver makes is of an animal.
The tiny Gulliver, so self important about the great
affairs of his diminutive country is absurb to the
huge king; he is an insect.
218
The Brobdingnagians, as Gulliver explains in his

epilogue, are the least corrupted of the Yahoo
species, and their ‘Wise maxims in morality and
government it would be our happiness to observe’.
But not all the Brobdingnagians are superior beings.
The treatment of Gulliver by his farmer captor is
pitiless and in human, he intends, without a qualm,
to work him to death much as contemporary society
treated Negro slaves. Gulliver’s portrait of the
king of Brobdingnag agrees in many essentials with
the character of temple. In politics the King of
Brobdingnag professed both to abominate and despise
all mystery, refinement and intrigue, either (of) a
prince or minister.
Though less vicious than the pigmies, the
Brobdingnagians possess a fair complement of human
weakness. Error abounds even among the least
corrupted of mankind.
The voyage to Laputa, gives us the most
elaborate ‘mechanical’ image of the state. Here the
actual functioning of the government depends on
managing the flying island and its lode stones. This
allows an ironical comparison to be made with the
political situation and oppressive centre of power in
London. The Lapouta – Balnibarbi situation, is the
impasse between England and Ireland, is seen as
allowing free scope for misapplied reason in social,
political and economic matters where bright ideas
solely motivated by self interests seem better than
the traditional values of good government
responsibility, duty, compassion and love, informed
219
by intelligence. The flying island of Laputa seems

to be the English court.
The King and his court are devoted entirely to

two subjects, music and mathematics, the most
obstruct of sciences rather than as an art. Those
who held this view began to demand that the state
should be run by experts well versed in mathematics
and other sciences, rather than by cultured amatures,
Swift’s dislike of government by ‘experts’ is most
clearly demonstrated in Gullivers description of the
flying island of Laputa. Here the political
arithmeticians are completely in change, and they are
making as complete a mess of things. Gulliver’s
marration of affairs in Laputa and Balnibarbi is a
political satire on the whigs and the tories and on
Anglo- Irish relations. The whigs were regarded as
the champlions of professional government. and the
Tories as the up holders of the ancient constitution.
The first favoured the employment of experts in
government, the
second looked upon them as a virus introduced into

the body politic, which was never really healthy
unless cared for by honest country gentlemen. The
flying island can be a symbol for the English court
in which case Balinbarbi represents the whole of
Great Britain But laputa can stand for England and
lindalino for Ireland
There is also a personal element in the political
220
satire. Swift had spent many vain weeks in 1708

trying to get the government to make a definite move
on the subject of extending queen Anne’s bountry to
Ireland . He never forged the frustrations which he
suffered from their perpetual procrastination and
their indifference to Irish affairs. His reception
from the whigs of Anne’s reign was surely in his
mind when he wrote of Gulliver’s (receptions from the
king of Luputa.
Gulliver praises the progress of the laputans in the

science of astronomy and describes the revelt of the
people of lindaline. They erected high towers, with
strong magnets at the top of each which effectively
neutralized the magnets of laputa and the king of the
latter was eventually forced to grant the request of
the lindalinians.
In the Academy of projectors in lagade Gulliver

visits the school of political projectors. There is a
doctor who relates physical well – being closely to
political judgements and administers the appropriate
medicines to every senator, who after arguing any
case, should give his vote ‘ directly contrary to
what he had argued, be cause if that were done, the
result would infallibly terminate in the good of the
public ‘ He even suggests that the senators should
be operated on and part of the brains of one should
be transferred to another since the mingling of
brains would induce moderation. Gulliver visits the
island of luggage, where he is required literally, to
221
lick the dust before the king but is otherwise

hospitably received It is not only the English
political life of his time which he thus dissects,
the monarchy itself the paraphernalia that surrounds
it the courts and countries the debating assembles,
the struggles of parties, the wiles of the favorites
of both sexes everything upon which in fact, rests
the contemporary administration of Europe is
irremediably damaged by this corrosive satire. The
object of ridicule is the absurdity of human
government.
The flying island, in its devious and sensitive

oblique movements, suggests the relationship of king
and country. Laputa is ultimately dependent upon
Dalnibarbi, its motions only allowed by the magnetic
quality of the ‘kings’ Dominious. It is this quality
which has allowed the Laputan king to establish his
power but there is a reciprocal dependence, for if
either side pressed its power too far the result
would be general ruin. The king’s last resource, in
case of defiance from the populace of Balnibarbi, is
to let the flying island drop upon their heads. But
t h i s t hough it would certainly destroy both houses
and men, would at the same time damage the adamant of
Laputa itself.
Laputa signifies a condemnation of political,

scientific and moral irresponsibility, For England
the symptoms include the Royal society the Walpole
towns head fued and the personal vices of George As
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the decay of agriculture, industry, and trade In such

a scene to busy oneself with fantastic inquiries and
useless experiments appears criminal.
In the fourth voyage we get a picture of an anarchist

society, not governed by lawn the ordinary sense but
by the dictates of reason which are voluntarily
accepted by every one. Swift was a Tory anarchist,
despising authority while disbelieving in liberty,
and preserving the aristocratic out look while
focusing clearly that the existing aristocracy is
degenerate and contemptible.
In recent years critics have tended

increasingly, to find the Houynhms satire upon the
neoteric humanism of shaft burry or the Deists.
9.8 Gulliver’s Travels as a Satire on Humanity

Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels may be seen as a
controlled display of man’s nature and his social
life. It presents Swift’s vision of the essential
contradictions of human nature, of the war between
rational control and animal drive, between just
judgement and pride, between ignorance and knowledge,
between true belief and illusion, between freedom and
tyranny.
The intention of the imaginary voyages was

almost always to satirize the existing European
order, and it did so by playing up the innocence,
manliness and high ethical standards of the untutored
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people whom the voyages claimed to have met. These

voyages tend alike to stress the goodness of
unspoiled primitive man. Swift makes use of animals
as his symbols in order, to make it quite plain that
pure rationality is not available to man. His irony
is directed against all the common failings of
mankind. All human institutions from the family to
the state are the targets of his irony.
In Lilliput, Gulliver’s body is grosser than

he can imagine and the Lilliputians seem more
delicate than in fact they are. Gulliver’s ineptness
among the Lilliputians like his insignificance among
the Brobdingnagians is not a weakness which can be
attributed to any identifiable group or person; it is
the result of his normal, his universal human
qualities, in large part simply of his ordinary
human size. The moral frailties he displays-
inflexibility and vanity, for example are generic
human weaknesses. The Lilliputian stature is
employed to augment the ludicrous effect of their
complacency, arrogance and short sightedness, all of
which are displayed as human failings.
Gulliver discovers in the Lilliputians admirable

qualities absent from the English, For example their
treatment of Children, which consists of an odd
mixtures of rational and common sense and a Swiftian
mistrust amounting to dislike of human sentiments.
Swift’s ideas regarding the education of children are
outlined in his description of the educational
224
systems of the Lilliputians and the Houyhnms. At

both places parents are not entrusted with the
education of their own children. As infants they are
sent to nurseries where they are taught by expert
professors. The aim of education in both places is
not to make the students merely literate but to
develop in them noble qualities of character.
Gulliver treats the Lilliputians kindly, but

when he leaves he reveals how readily he still thinks
of them, because they are smaller than the humans he
is used to-as not so different from animals. As he
is taking the tiny cattle home, ‘to propagate the
bread’, so he would have taken’ a dozen of the
natives, ‘without considering them as individual
humans, who might be distressed at being so treated.
The voyage to Brobdingnag contains such sarcasm

on the structure of the human body, as too plainly
show us, that the author was unwilling to lose any
opportunity of debasing and ridiculing his own
species. Swift’s purpose is to make an assault on
human pride, particularly on the beauty of the female
form. Swift makes us share Gulliver’s disgust at the
cancerous breasts and lousy bodies of the beggars; at
the blotched color, the huge pores, the coarse hairs.
Swift shows that our beauty is only apparent, our
disportion is real. Swift’s satire on women in
general is very sharp. Women in his view are
the embodiment of physical,
intellectual and moral waste under a fair exterior.
225
He regarded women as loathsome creatures and marriage

as a calamity for man.
Voyage to Laputa brings out Swift’s satire on

the abuse of learning. The Laputans neglect
practical matters to indulge in theory. Their houses
are illbuilt without even one right angle in any
apartment, and this defect arises from the contempt
they bear to practical geometry, which they despise
as vulgur. From Laputa Gulliver goes to Balnibarbi
and its capital Lagage, and in the description of the
Academy of projectors in Lagado, Swift satirizes
inventors and promoters of schemes for improving
everything. A new method of teaching is as follows:
The preparation and demonstration were

fairly written
on a thin wafer, with ink composed of a
caphalick
_incture. This the student was to swallow
upon a
fasting stomach, and for three days
following eat
nothing but bread and water. As the water
digested,
the tincture mounted to his brain, bearing
the
proposition along with it.
Laputans with their absorption is music, mathematics,

and astronomy, represent specifically the members of
226
the Royal Society but more generally all those who

believe that, by turning away from the impressions of
the senses and the ordinary concerns of human nature
they can ignore sublunary confusion and reach eternal
truth. The sources for nearly all the theories of the
works at the academy of Lagade came from Swift’s
contemporary scientists and particularly in the
philosophical transactions of the Royal Society.
The account of the miscalculations of Laputan

tailers in making-Gulliver’s clothes is a satire on
Newton who makes a mistake in his calculations of the
distance of the sun.
The Laputans c a l c u l a t e that after a certain

number of years the sun would lose its heat and they
are sure that it would be the end of the world. Such
fears are not original to the Laputans. Many
scientists of that age have pandered over the
possibility of such calamities. It is the influence
of Newton which makes people fear that their planet
might one day fall into the sun.
Among the professors of Lagade is a man born

blind who has several apprentices in his own
condition; and who could distinguish colors by
feeling and smellings. Swift is here attacking Robert
Boyle’s Experiments and observations upon colours.
Another projector whom Gulliver saw it work was
trying to calcineice into gun powder. This is an
attack on Boyle’s Experiments and observations upon
227
cold in which he had suggested this idea.
One experiments at the Academy want to change

human excretion into original food. There is also an
architect who wanted to construct houses by beginning
at the roof and then coming down to the foundation.
At the school of languages, one of the experiments is
to simplify the language by retaining only
monosyllabic words and nouns.
Their efforts are summed up by an illustrious

member who has been given the title of the ‘The
Universal Artist’ and who has been for the
thirty years directing his followers in various
ways of converting things into their opposites, thus
turning the useful, into the unusable and the vital
into the atrophied. Air is made tangible and marble
left. land is sown with chaff and naked sheep are
bred and perhaps as an epitome of the achievement of
the Academy of the heeves of a living hoarse are
being petrified.
From Lagade Gulliver makes his way to

Gulubbddubdrib, where again he is in a world of no
meaning, of delusion and death, darker and more
shadowy than Laputa. The final mockery of the pursuit
of progress comes when Gulliver visits luggage and
meets the immortal struid-bruggs. These, so far from
leading the idyllic life he imagined would be the lot
of a human freed from the fear of death, were the
most miserable of beings. Although they have eternal
228
life they do not have eternal youth, so that physical

and mental decay continue until ‘they acquired an
additional ghastliness in proportion to their number
of years, which is not be described’.
It has been fully demonstrated that in his

satire of scientists and projectors swift made use of
the knowledge of actual experiments which were being
undertaken by members of the Royal Society, possibly
drawn to his attention by his friend Dr. Arbuthnet.
Swift was not opposed to all forms of progress. What
he opposes is what he regards as artificial, as
distinct from natural progress. The political
arithmeticians appear ludicrously absentminded and
impractical when Gulliver tells of the Flappers who
attend them to keep their minds on the immediate
subject under discussion and of the ill-fitting suits
of clothes produced by their refined method of
measuring. Gulliver sees for himself the effects of
their
schemes when he looks around Balnibarbi. There they
have inspired projects designed to work economic
miracles. The projects are not brought to perfection
and the whole country lay miserably waste, the houses
in ruins, and the people without food or clothes. By
contrast the estates of Gulliver’s friend lord Munodi
who used old fashioned methods were flowing with milk
and honey. Balnibarbi is badly cultivated, its people
in misery and want.
The Luptans, though they are in human shape, are
229
more obviously allegorical creatures than any in

Gulliver’s Travels. Their effect is made through at
the same time it tends to destroy itself. The
Houyhnhnms are a race of noble horses who live
according to the laws of reason and nature. Serving
them and despised by them are the beastly Yahoos, a
degenerate species of man. Gulliver himself
recognizes how detestable the yahoos are before he
realises to his ‘horror and astonishment’, that these
‘abominable animals’ had perfect human figures.
Gulliver is appalled by the bestiality of the yahoos,
recoiling from them as creatures for whom, he had
natural antipathy. Yet it is demonstrated that the
yahoos are men, although completely degenerate men.
The life of reason asked by the Houyhnmnms is

curiously dead. George orwell has argued that the
reason which governs them is really a desire for
death. He says that they are exempt from love,
friendship, curiosity fear and sorrow except in their
feeling of anger and hatred towards the Yahoos, who
occupy rather the same place in their community as
the Jews in Nazi Germany. Gulliver concludes the
voyage by describing his difficulty in reconciling
himself to life among yahoos in England after his
experience with the noble Houyhnhnm race, and he ends
with a final bread side against human pride.
In this voyage Gulliver discovers the shocking

recognition that man, in his brute nakedness, is
indeed a Yahoo, his ugliness vainly disguised by
230
civilized artifice, his animal powers merely vitiated

by refinements which are actually corruptions. The
second discovery emerges largely in Gullivers
dialogues with the Houyhnhnm master, it is simply
that those systems which we regards the hall marks of
civilization law military science, government,
breeding, medicine, and the best represent the
institutionalizing, the elaboration of our animal
indications toward hatred, avarice and sensuality.
Gulliver’s own account of western society produces a
third discovery, unequivocally advanced by the
Houyhnhnm master himself who defines mankind as:
.....a sort of animals to whose share, by
what
accident he could not conjecture some small
pittance of reason had fallen, where of we
made no
other use than by its assistance to
aggravate
our natural corruptions, and to acquire new
ones which nature had not given us.
The superiority of the Houhynhnms is discovered

by Gulliver as proof of the fact that a horse-even a
horse could, if endowed with that genuine reason on
which man falsely prides himself, achieve a serene,
beign and cleanly prosperity which is the opposite,
in every important respect to the present state of
civilized man. The traditional view was that the
Yahoos represent man as he actually is, self-seeking,
sensual and depraved while the Houyhnhnm symbolize
231
what men ought to be, altruistic rational and

cultured.
Yahoos have a strong disposition to nasty ness

and dirt. Their eating habits are equally filthy.
Their undistinguishing appetite to devour every thing
that came in their way, whether herbs, roots,
berries, corrupted flesh of animals or all mingled
together rendered them odious. Excrement to the
yahoos is no mere waste product but a magic
instrument for self expression and aggression. In the
Yahoo system of social indentation their leader had
usually a favorite as like himself as he could get,
whose employment was to lick his master’s feet and
posteriors, and drive the female Yahoos to his
kennel. As a constrast to the Yahoos, the horses do
not shirk, do not lie, do no evil, and so the
Houyhnhnms are industrious, truthful and virtuous.
They have no word in their language to express
anything that is evil, except what they borrow from
the deformities or ill qualities of the Yahoos.
Swift is attacking the Yahoo in each of the
reader The good qualities are given the non-human
form of the horse, and the bad qualities the nearly
human form of the Yahoo. The etymology of the word
Houyhnhnm means ‘horse’ but also the ‘perfection of
nature’. Swift was trying to create a sort of utopia
in his account of the life if ‘reason’ led by
Houynhnhnms. It was a singularly dull and inhuman
utopia. These noble horses never experience love or
hope, curiosity or passions they take pleasure in sex
232
and feel no more affection for their own off spring

strictly limited to two per ‘family’ than for other
foals. The only reference to music in their lives is
the rather comic idea of a song composed in honour of
the victors in their running race. They apparently
have no conception of beauty, other than the
comeliness of their chosen, mates, and even their
poetry is apparently restricted to ‘exalted motions
of friendship and benevolence and the praise of
successful athletes. It is difficult to resist the
conclusion that Swift was more concerned to satirize
human nature in the Yahoos than to arouse our respect
and admiration for the Houyhnhnms.
Swift presents a number of descriptions of

Yahoo behaviour, provokingly reminiscent of human
behaviour but cruder; more contemptible in one sense,
and yet more harmless. The pictures of the Yahoo
treatment of a fallen favourite and a Yahoo female
sexually excited can be cited as an example. It is
the human equivalent that we are continually
confronted with in these descriptions. Swift’s
intensity and disgust are now here more striking than
here when the Houyhnhnms compare. Gulliver with the
Yahoo at first objects acknowledging ‘some
resemblance’, but insists that he cannot account for
their ‘degenerate and brutal nature’. The Houyhnhnms
have none of this however, deciding that if Gulliver
does differ he differs for the worse. The
contemptuous view of mankind formed by the Houyhnhnms
is the main satiric charge.
233
Although the Houynhnhnms embody traits which

Swift admired they do not represent his moral ideal
for mankind. The Houyhnhnms combine deistic and
stoic views of human nature – views against which as
a devout Anglican, he fought. Swift wished men to be
as a rational as possible; he believed that religion
helps them to become so, and that reason leads them
towards revelation. But the deistic efforts to build
a rational system of morals outside revelation, he
regarded as evil and absurb, Gulliver, occupying a
position between the two, part beast, part reason, is
Swift’s allegorical picture of the dual nature of
man.
Arthur.E. Case thinks that Gulliver’s Travels is

a politico – sociological treatise much of which is
covered in the medium of satire. The legend of Swift
as a savage, mad, embittered misanthrope largely
rests upon the reading of the last voyage of
Gulliver. His hatred was directed against
abstract man, against men
existing and acting within semi-human or dehumanized
racial or professional groups. Apparently he felt
that when men submerge their individual judgement and
moral beings in such groups they necessarily further,
corrupt their already corrupted natures. Swift’s
satire rises from philanthropy and not misanthropy.
It is strange that in spite of the universal

condemnation of mankind, Gulliver Travels remains a
234
popular work. That is because nobody is hurt when

every body is condemned.
Swift is regarded as one of the greatest masters

of satire in English literature. In Gulliver’s
Travels Swift’s aim is to expose all the foibles,
petty aims and ambitions of men and to show how these
lie at the root of all man’s struggles. Swift wanted
to entertain and instruct his readers, and to make
them feel the vanity of human grandeur. Gulliver’s
Travels is, in its totality, a satiric construction
and the attractive fiction which supports the entire
work is merely the mask or vehicle for sustained
satiric assault. The surface of the book is comic but
at its centre is tragedy, transformed through style
and to into icy irony.
Gulliver’s Travels resembles John Bunyan’s

allegory Pilgrims Procress in its popularity and
human interest. Bunyan used fiction for the practical
purpose of converting the ungodly. Swift wrote to
express his contempt and abhorrence for great mass of
human kind.
The outstanding characteristic of swift style is
its clarity. This is the result of the simplicity of
his language. His page is a model of plainness. Swift
always hides his aim of attacking a vice behind a
voile of superfluous playfulness. He possessed
piercing insight into human nature. Swift is a great
master of irony. The shock technique of irony has
been used in Gulliver’s Travels. His irony is deadly
and bitter and yet not lacking sincerity. We are
235
forced to gaze into the stupid, evil brutal heart of

humanity, and when we do, the laughter that swift has
evoked is abruptly silenced.
The effectiveness of Swift’s satire is derived

from his mastery of the technique of grim irony,
unrolled in pages of closely knit prose without
padding or waste of words. To discover the virtues of
English prose, a young writer may still, following
the advice of Dr.Johnson, give his days and nights to
the study of the volumes of Addison, but he will do
better to substitute the paragraphs of Swift.
Swift was skilled in the use of fable and

dramatic technique. The use of fiction as sugar
coating for a pill of bitter philosophy is one of his
greatest distinctions. Secondly to this use of
fiction must be added Swift’s wit and humour also an
ingredient indispensable to good satire every where.
As a convinced Tory, Swift opposes p o p u l a r

radicalism in politics, philosophy and religion when
he satirizes existing government, he attackes not the
theory but the abuse of authority. When he castigates
bishops and prime ministers it is because they are
unintelligent or corrupt. More difficult for our
generation to accept is Swift’s open contempt for
‘Free thinkers’ , but here, as elsewhere he
is ahead of, not behind, his times, and may prove to

be the prophet of the twenty first century. If Swift
236
has been admired and feared more than he has been

loved, it is partly because he does not write the
language of heart, unromantic by temperament but it
should be recalled that his age distrusted sentiment
and disdained romance. In his refusal to reduce human
suffering to statistics, in his concern for the
starving in Ireland, in his horror of the effects of
war, Swift writes with a compassion which speaks
across the centuries.
In the voyage to Lilliput, Swift satirizes the

pettiness of political intrigues. The arts by which
the officers of the government keep their places,
such as cutting capers on a tight rope for the
entertainment of the emperor, remind us of the
quality of statesmanship in Swift’s day. The dispute
over the question, at which end an egg should be
broken, which plunged Lilliput into Civil war is a
comment on the seriousness of party divisions in the
greater world. Politics of England is ridiculed
mainly in the voyage to Brobdingnag especially
through the comments of the Giant King. Political
satire becomes very bitter when we come to the flying
island. Gulliver’s narration of affairs in laputa and
Balnibarbi is a political satire on the whigs and the
Tories and on Angle Irish relations. The voyage to
Laputa is a scientific parody and burlesque of the
experiments of contemporary scientists and schemes of
other projectors. The entire myth of a voyage to the
Houyhnhnml and is an instrument of one who in hatred
of what he saw about him set out to vex the world.
237
Hazlitt contends that there is nothing

misanthropical in Swift, whose main purpose in
Gulliver’s Travels is to strip empty pride and
grandeur of the imposing air which external
circumstances throw around then, Swift unlike pope
restricts himself to general rather than personal
attacks. His dissection of humanity shows a powerful
mind relentlessly probing into the weaknesses and
hypocrisy of mankind.
Addison says that Swift is the greatest genius

of his age. Saints b u r y has praised Swift for his
talents. Sir Walter Scott, who edited Swift’s work
thought Swift was irritability and savage indignation
all compact, combined with an extraordinary but
perverse genius. Scott feels that we are compelled
to admire the force of his talents, even when he is
employed in exposing the worst part of our nature.
Gulliver’s Travels, despite common impressions

to the contrary, presents in every voyage a balanced
picture of human nature and the presence of goodness
and good sense, as well as folly and vice in each
country visited. What happens to Gulliver is a
warning and a psychological preparation for the
readers. Swift holds up before us a glass in an
eighteenth century frame; but if we will we can see
in it our twentieth century faces too.
Gulliver’s Travels is the most mature, the most
238
pondered of all Swift’s works, and the most complex,

though it has in many ways a deceptive air
of
simplicity. Complex as the book is stuffed with
personal, political and philosophic criticism and
dicta, crammed with personal and literary allusions,
the story is unified, as it is made vital by the
tremendous urgency of the desire to humble human
pride.
Gulliver’s Travels is not a reviling of man’s

indignity, but a passionate plea for the dignity of
man, in spite of his loathsome body, his absurd mind,
his ridiculous political pretensions, and his
arrogant ignorance. The only hope for salvation,
Swift tells us, is to rid ourselves of our cruel
illusions, to be aware of and to accept the hells
beneath, so that we may not subside into them.
9.9 Style and Technique of Gulliver’s Travels
Swift's use of humour and irony are sometimes as bitter as

gall. His works are challenge to an easy, complacent optimism, and as
an ironist, he is superior to any other writer of the age except
Fielding. His irony, savage and bitter, glows with consuming
intensity of feeling. His gravest dialect is enlivened by apt
1
similes and strong metaphors; but he is often outrageously
coarse, and in the ludicrous degradation of his victims he makes
on affection of kindliness.
Often the satire is violent and sometimes it is coarse and

repulsive perhaps the result of his own physical disabilities and his
keen disappointment at his failure to gain the preferment which he
left himself to have merited. The pettiness, the stupidity, and the
injustice, which he saw so cleverly, roused his satirical humour and
his venom.
239
In all the four bo o k s o f Gulliver's Travels, the vigorous

spirit of satire is seen.
In the first book dealing with the Lilliputians, the satire

obviously consists in showing human motives at work on a 'small
scale, and in suggesting, by the likeness of the Lilliputians to
ourselves, the littleness of human affairs, and the pettiness of
political intrigues. The dispute over the question at which end an
egg should properly be broken, which plunged Lilliput into the civil
war is a comment on the seriousness of party divisions in the greater
world.
Gulliver's next voyage to Brobdinginag brings him to a people

as large in comparison with man as the Lilliputians are small. Here
man is magnified into a giant, though in the earlier work he is
reduced to a manikin. The third voyage to Laputa and other curious
places embodies Swift's contempt for pedantry and for useless
'scientific' experiment. And, lastly in the fourth voyage there is an
indictment of man's tortuous and sly reasoning as compared to the
noble inhabitants of Houyhnhnmland, who within the shapes of horses
embody 'perfection of Nature.'
The beastly Yahoos represent Swift's conception of man living

in a degenerate state of nature. The evil instincts of 'civilized'
man are here again bitterly portrayed. In short, the voyage of
Lilliput and Brobding satirised the politics and manner of England
and Europe; that to Laputa mocked the philosophers; and the last, to
the country of the Houyhn-hnras, lacerated and defiled the whole body
of humanity. Swift's pessimism that had been gnawing at his own heart
finds its expression in this terrible attack on his fellow men. The
entire work is an elaboration of the attitude expressed by him to
Pope, "I heartily hate and detest that animal called man."
Swift's method in all these works is to strike boldly with

sarcasm and irony. He hates wrangling and argument, and seldom
bothers to use the weapons of logical controversy. He attempts, with
his almost unparalleled fund of ingenuity and caustic wit, to laugh
his opponents off the stage. In his writings there is a disconcerting
intermingling of earnestness and play. His unique position, his
singularity and peculiar impressivenes among English writers is due
to his thorough pessimism and the contribution he made to the deve-
lopment of English prose style as a writer of English prose his
importance is historical.
240
Swift's style is marked for its clarity, precision and

conciseas Herbert remarks, "However widely his vision might extend,
however deep his insight, his mode of expression remained simple
dignity and clearly comprehensible. Directness and simplicity,
economy of words, his ironic ingenuity and practical downright ness
are the virtues by which he writes. He is concerned with the full and
effective expression of his deep, passionate convictions in all their
sincerity in a language simple, unvarnished, precise and transparent
which at once reveals the meaning below its surface.
Clarity he valued most." In the words of Compton-Rickett,

"Like other great stylists of the time, Pope and Addison, he achieves
a triumphant clarity ; but unlike Pope he is never epigrammatic ;
unlike Addison he had little plasticity of form He is plainly and
forcefully clear with a greater strength than theirs ; all the more
striking and urgent for his lack of ornament and concentrated
passion." He never used redundant words.
Swift employed figures of speech and epigrammatic expressions

very rarely indeed. Dr. Johnson said, "The rogue nev e r h a z a r d s a
metaphor. His delight was in simplicity." That he has in his works no
metaphor, as has been said, is not true, but his few metaphors, seem
to be conceived rather by necessity than by choice. He tried to avoid
the figurative language and most of the rhetoric devices such as
balance, rhythm and antithesis. In fact, Swift's style is of one who
followed 'the plain path of Nature and Reason'. He is an inimitable
master of forceful narrative prose.
Swift made no use of Latin wordsy He strongly advis e d h i s

clergymen against the use of words like ubiquety, omniscience and
idiosyncrasy. These latin words create obscurity and Swift he is
dead set against obscurity in style. Likewise he was strongly opposed
to the stylistic device of contracting or abbreviating, words like
incog. fpj incognists, phizz. for physiognamy, pozz. for positive.
As the most original writer of his time, Swift proves to be

one of the greatest masters of English prose. Directness, vigour, and
simplicity mark his every page. Among writers of his age he stands
almost alone in his domain of literary effects. Keeping his object
steadily before him he drives straight to the end, with a convincing
power that has new surpassed in English language. Herbert rightly
remarks, “The prose style of Swift is unique. It is an instrument of
clear, animated, animating and effective thought. English prose has
241
perhaps attained here and there a noble profundity, and here and
t h e r e a subtler complexity ; but never has maintained such a
constant level of inspired expression."
The prose style of Swift has been admired by many a critics

Albert says that in Gulliver's Travels the style of Swift it is
clean, powerful and as clear as summer noon day. Moddy and Lovett
are of the view that directness and simplicity are the hall marks of
his writing. Absolute, unmitigated prose he wrote, the quintessence
of prose. In the words of John Dennis “If we regard the writer's
end, it must be admitted that his language is admirably fitted for
that end. Swift's style wants the 'sweetness and lacks also the
elevation which inspires, and the persuasiveness that convinces
while it claims. No style, perhaps, is better fitted to exhibit scorn
and contempt; It is a radically a low and homely style, without
grace and without affection, and chiefly remarkable for a great
choice and profusion of common words and expressions”.
242
9.10 Let us Sum Up
Gulliver's Travels "is one of the supreme comic masterpieces of the

world, As a comedy it is not only Swift's masterpiece but one of the
masterpieces of all time. The unit of the book lies in its satirical
tone.

1. Consider Gulliver’s Travels as a Satire on
Humanity
2. Write an Essay on the element of satire in
Gulliver’s Travels
3. Comment on the style and technique of Gulliver’s
Travels
9.12 References
Swift, Jonathan, Gulliver’s Travels. London & New York
: J.M.Bent & Sons, Ltd & E.P.Dutten & Co., Inc,
1906, rpt., 1977.
Swift, Jonathan, Satires and Personal Writings. ed.,

Willian Affred Eddy. London : Oxford University.
Baugh, Albert, C.Literary History of England. London :

Rouledge & Kegan Ltd., 1967.
Bridgewater, William and Kurtz, Seymour. The Columbia

Encyclopaedia. New York and London : Columbia
Dobree, Bonamy, English Literature in the Early

Eighteenth Century. London : Oxford University
Press, 1959.
Daiches, David, A Critical History of English

Literature V.3. England: Martin Secker & Warburg
Ltd., 1960
Davis, Herbert, Jonathan Swift : Essays on his satire

and other studies : The Satire of Jonathan Swift.
New York : Oxford University Press, 1964.
Dyson, A.E. The Crazy Fabric : Essays in Irony. London
243
Macmillan and co., Ltd., 1965.
Ehrenpreis, Irvin. Swift the man, his works and the

age Vol I & II. Great Britain : The Broad water
Press Ltd., 1967.
Ford, Boris. A guide to English Literature. Vol IV.

Great Britain : penguin Books Ltd., 1957 rpt.,
1965.
Jeffares, A. Norman. Swift : Modern Judgements. Great

Britain : Western Printing Services Ltd., Bristol,
1968.
Mathur. S.S.Swift : Gulliver’s Travels. Agra : The

Premier Press, Lakshmi Narain Agarwal, 1980.
Rosenheim, Edward. W.Swift and the satirist’s art.

Chigaco : The University of Chicago Press, 1963,
rpt., 1967.
Ross, Angus. Swift : Gulliver’s Travels. London :

Edward Arnold, 1968.
Speck. W.A. Literature in perspective : Swift :

Gulliver’s Travels. Montague House, Russel Square,
London, W.C.I. Evans Brothers Ltd., 1969.
Tuveson, Ernest. Twentieth century views on Swift :

United States of America : Prentice – Hall Inc., 1964.
Williams, Kathleen. Profites in Literature : Jonathan

Swift. Great Britain : Northumberland Press Ltd.,
1968.
Williams, Kathleen. Swift : the critical Heritage.

London : Rouledge and kegan Paul Ltd., 1970.
244
Unit – V
LESSON 10
PHILIP SIDNEY
APOLOGY FOR POETRY
Contents

10.1 Introduction
10.2 An Outline of Sidney’s Apologie for poetry
10.3 Introduction to Apology
10.4 Sidney’s reply to the charges against Poetry
10.5 The Nature and Function of poetry:
10.6 Let us Sum Up
10.8 References
This lesson is devoted for making you understand

the works of Philip Sidney and how he expressed his
own intelligence, and intellectual milieu.
10.1 Introduction
T h e A p o l o g y is not epoch-making, but it is

epoch – marking. Of course Sidney was unaware of
what vernacular English Poets were to achieve within
245
the next generation or so, and yet what he intends is

triumphantly authenticated by their achievement.
10.2 An Outline of Sidney’s Apologie for poetry
EXORDIUM
Employs a recognised method of indirect approach to the
case and seeks to capture the goodwill of the audience by
humorous anecdote, mock expostulation, and modesty
formulas. The anecdote adumbrates the concern of the
Apology with the relation between the theory and practice
of an art.
NARRATION
Relates the facts which give dignity to poetry.Brief
transitional argument to lower the personal creditof the
opponents of poetry Facts indicating worth of poetry(a)
bits superior antiquity the universality of poetry
its names and etymology title of vates title of '
maker.
III PROPOSITION
That poetry is to be commended and approved for what it
essentially is — Imitation.This is the central issue of
the controversy and sums up what is about to be discussed
step by step.
IV DIVISION
Shows the way in which the facts averred in the NARRATION are
going to be systematically interpreted to prove the
PROPOSITION.
Poetry classified according to

(a) its subject matter or fable (i) religious themes
(ii) philosophical themes (iii) strictly imitative
themes its form DIVISION ends with ENUMERATION.
246
CONFIRMATION
V CONFIRMATION or PROOF
by examining the ' works '—the nature and effects of

poetic imitation
(i) the essential function of human arts
(ii) claims of philosophy to be the supreme discipline
(iii) claims of history
(iv) Comparison of poetry with other disciplines
(v) examples showing value of poetic imitation
(vi) conclusion
by examining the ' parts ' - character and effects of the
different kinds of poetry
of the whole argument up to this point leading to
SUMMARY
the conclusion that poetry is the worthiest of all
disciplines.
VI REFUTATION
Deals with the specific charges against poetry which
the prosecution is assumed to have made.
(a) personally discrediting attack on those who defame
poetry
(b) objections against poetic form answered

(c) objections against poetic material listed
(i) fallacy of argument that poetry is unprofitable
exposed
(ii) assertion that the poet is a liar rebutted
(iii) assertion that poetry is the nurse of abuse re-

butted
(iv) Plato's condemnation of poets answered
SUMMARY of favourable points from REFUTATION which by leading to

the conclusion that poetry should be the more honoured turns
the REFUTATION into a corroboration of the PROOF.
247
Digression
Indicates the ways in which contemporary English writers
disgrace the ideal of poetry set out in the rest of the
Apology, and how they should amend. The DIGRESSION has the
structure of an independent oration.
NARRATION giving an account of situation
(i) great men in the past honoured poetry
(ii) even in England poetry was once honoured
(iii) poetry now despised and produced by base writers
ii PROPOSITION that poets must seek to know what to do and
how to do it, if poetry is to be esteemed properly
in DIVISION indicating the need for art, imitation, and
exercise, followed by ENUMERATION of matters to be
discussed
iv CONFIRMATION by consideration of
(a) subject-matter or fable
(b) (i) deficiencies in past practice
(ii) defects in drama
in disregard of unities lapses in decorum
(iii) defects in the other kinds (6) words or expression
(i) verbal affectations
(ii) dangers of exaggerated Ciceronianism

(iii) vice of Euphuism (iv) general failure to make
proper use of language of
art (c) Conclusion to treatment of defects
(d) Commendation of the English language
for its expressiveness for its metrical possibilities
v CONCLUSION of DIGRESSION leading into
VII PERORATION of the whole
10.3 Introduction to Apology
248
Sidney opens his defense of poetry by referring

to John Pietro Pugliano who as horseman praised the
horse and horsemanship so profusely that a hearer
would wish to become a horse or a horseman. When
Stephen Gosson dedicated his puritanic attack on
poetry to Sidney, and hence Sidney had to make his
reply.
Philip Sidney wrote his Apology for Poetry in

reply to Stephen Gosson’s School of Abuse. Stephen
Gosson denounced the art of poetry and condemned
poets as the ‘Caterpillars of the Commonwelth”. The
earliest works of Greece, Rome, Italy, England and
other countries of the world prove the antiquity and
universality of poetry. The earliest works, even,
philosophical works of various nations, have been
written either in verse or in a poetical style.
Even the historians used the poetical art in

designing their historical writings.
Poetry has the power to popularize the abstract

principles and thorny arguments of philosophy as well
as the imperfect and unethical matters of history.
The Roman word ‘Vates’ means a prophet and it

is used to denote a poet endowed with prophetic
power. The oracles of Delphos and Sibylla’s
Prophecies were delivered in verse.
The association of poetry with the divine power

clearly reveals its highest value. David’s Psalms are
written in verse. Poetry is closely connected with
the Church and God, its source of inspiration and
249
enlightenment. The meaning of the Greek word potein

is ‘to make’; it denotes the creative power of the
poet in building up an ideal world by making virtue
triumphant and vice powerless. All arts and sciences
imitate the imperfect visible nature without any
modification. But Poetry differs from them in its
treatment of nature.
The Poet has unlimited freedom to imitate

nature as well as penetrate behind appearance and
discern the hidden ultimate reality. He presents
heroes as demigods, Cyclops, chimeras and funnies in
his works. He transforms the brazen world of Nature
in to a golden world of poetic reality.
When the real world of God is made imperfect by

man’s abuse of his free will, the poet perfects it by
introducing ideal heroes as well as imperfect
villains and by making virtue triumph over vice in
all his works. Sidney sets forth the nature of poetry
by means of his references to classical times.
Sidney cities Aristotle’s definitions of poetry

to bring out the dignity and utility of poetry.
Poetry represents the real world in all respects and
offers delightful instruction to its readers. There
are three kinds of poetry described which are
religious poetry, philosophical poetry and tree-
poetry. The first kind, that of religious poetry is
illustrated by David’s Psalms, Solomon’s Song of
songs the Hymns of Moses and Deborah.
Philosophical poetry, is found in the moral

works of Tyrtaeus, and Cato. ‘True’ poetry differs
250
very much from the art of painting and deals with

nature in such a way that it is able both to delight
and teach by its subject and mode of treatment.
True poetry is further subdivided into several

kinds such as heroic. Iyric, tragic, comic, satiric,
elegiac and pastoral. It is possible to write poetry
without verses. i.e. the emotional and imaginative
treatment of any subject. It is also possible to
compose verse without poetry by consciously employing
rhymes and rhythms without any inspiration, emotion
and imagination. Poetry alone imparts the knowledge
of righteous life and directs people towards virtuous
action When all arts and sciences fail to lead men to
virtuous action. Moral philosophers fail to attract
the public on account of their gravity and subtlety
of division and definition. But historians attract
the public by their concrete examples and prove
superior to philosophers.
Poetry makes men good by pointing out the ills

of the human world, and the punishment meted out to
evil doers. So poetry is superior to philosophy,
history and law by virtue of its moral function. The
Limitations of philosophy and history are easily
pointed out. Philosophy presents thorny arguments and
misty conceptions in dry language. History shows the
triumph of vice over virtue in the real world. So
history is defective from the view of morality and
divinity. Poetry combines the precepts of philosophy
and the example of history and it delights readers by
its emotional and imaginative treatment of all
subjects. But philosophy fails to do imaginative
251
treatment of dry and abstract moral principles.
All the abstract virtues are delightfully and

effectively portrayed by the poets through their
characters wisdom and temperance in Ulysses and
Diomedes, Valour in Achillers, friendship in Nisus
and Euryalus. All the abstract vices are also
powerfully presented by the classical poets- anger in
Ajax, the remorse of conscience in Oedipus, the soon
repenting pride of Agamemnon, the violence of
ambition in the two Theban brothers, the sour
sweetness of revenge in Medea and so on.
The poet is superior to the philosopher in his

way of teaching the value of virtuous action
effectively and delightfully as has been done by
Virgil, Xenophon, and Thomas More.
The parables of Jesus Christ in the Bible are

essentially poetical and not at all philosophical or
historical. He presents uncharitableness and humility
in the further of the prodigal son his father.
Aesop’s Fables is more effective than a book of moral
philosophy in teaching the value of virtuous life.
According to Aristotle poetry is more philosophical
than philosophy and more serious than history. Poetry
presents the eternal truths of virtue and v i c e
through imaginary stories about imaginary characters.
So poetry is better than history in its delightful
teaching of moral truths.
Poetry conceals all the natural ugliness of the

real world and presents the pleasing picture of
everything to delight and teach the readers. The
252
feigned Cyrus of Xenophon is much better than the

true Cyrus in Justain. Similarly the feigned Aeneas
in Virgil is more attractive than in true Aeneas in
Darius Phrygius. It is impossible for the historian
to present ideal characters of virtue because he is
bound to present the actual details of historical
characters combining their good and bad qualities.
Poetry alones can give a perfect pattern of good and
evil without any confusion.
The art of feigning has to be practised at

times when direct truth fails to impress itself upon
people. The story of Zopyrus cutting his own nose
and ears and going to the Bobylonians in order to
make them change their attitude to his master, King
Darius, cannot be forgotten for its success and ideal
loyalty. The poet has unlimited freedom unlike the
historian. So the poet employs his imagination to
create Hell or Heaven but the historian has to
present the mixed world of good and evil on the
earth.
The historical accounts of tyrants flourishing

and the virtuous people suffering in this imperfect
real speaks only in favour of vice and not of virtue.
Poetry not only imparts the knowledge of good

and evil but it also moves the readers towards
virtuous action. But philosophy fails to do so at
those two levels. The study of poetry is a journey
through a vineyard with the tasting of grapes and
seeing the beautiful scenes of nature. Hearing the
tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus and Aeneas is more
253
pleasing and enchanting than following the dry

definitions and thorny explanations of philosophy.
Even the hard-hearted men who refuse to touch the
books of moral philosophy are tempted to read
delightful poems and drawn unconsciously towards the
ideal of goodness. That is the reason why Plato and
Boethius borrowed the garment of poetry to clothe the
mistress of philosophy. Poetry is a medicine like
cherries.
At the time of a crisis Agryppa used his

poetical faculty to draw the attention of all his
angry senators by narrating the story of the
different parts of the body turning against the belly
and accusing it of consuming all the food. But when
the belly was starved the parts of the body also
suffered. Thus Agrippa won the hearts of the senators
once again.
God’s men who commit any evil deed God sends

some of his prophets or angels to warn. It so
happened in the life of David. Nathan, the prophet
appealed to David’s good sense by the art of
feigning. The poet vindicates the value of virtue and
directs all readers to follow the goal of virtuous
action by means of his imaginary stories and
characters. The creator of such poetic art has to be
highly respected and honored, Since the end and aim
of poetry is to move its readers to virtuous action.
Some poems combine various elements of tragedy and
comedy. But all the poems prove to be useful to
mankind because they teach the value of order and
peace, virtue and discipline in directly and
254
delightfully.
A passage is produced from Virgil’s First

Eclogue to illustrate the effect of pastoral poetry
on the readers. By the description of beautiful
natural landscape and the narration of the tales of
wolves and sheep the pastoral poet moves the readers
to virtuous action.
By means of elegiac poetry the poet shows the

weakness of mankind and the wretchedness of the
world. The iambic poetry puts villainy to shame. In
the illustrative lines of Horace the aim of satiric
poetry is well explained. Satiric poetry attacks the
follies of people and makes the readers laugh at
them, aiming at reform. Comedy is an imitation of
life, Remarked Aristotle the comic writer exposes
the common errors of life in the most ridiculous and
scornful way and aims at reformation of mankind.
Just like geometry and arithmetic that deal with
opposites, comic poetry shows both the filthiness of
evil and the beauty of virtue.
The characters of Terence’s comedies illustrate

all kinds of human qualities – niggardly Demea,
crafty Davus, flattering Gnatho and bragging Thraso.
On seeing the evil qualities portrayed ridiculously
and evil doers undergoing punishment the readers as
well as the audience of the comedies think about them
and decide not to follow them.
Seneca’s Oedipus by showing all the tyrannical

measures of the tyrants as tragic poetry produces the
effects of admiration and commiseration on the
255
readers. Plutarch presented an abominable tyrant,

Alexander Phereus as a subject of tragedy. The
choice of a tyrant as a subject to tragedy is always
harmful and so only excellent qualities of life
should be treated in the art of poetry.
Lyrical poetry exalts virtuous actions and

sings the glory of God. Sidney was very much moved
by the ballad of Chevy Chase : if small things were
highly praised by Pindar and other Greek poets it was
due to the attitude of the Greeks. Therefore the
poets should not be blamed for praising trivial
things : the people were responsible for such things.
The heroic poetry of classical poets focuses on

heroes like Achilles, Cyrus, Aeneas, Turnus, Tydeus
and Rinaldo. The heroes exhibit their heroic
qualities on different occasions and conduct
themselves heroically so that the readers are
inspired to emulate them in life. By watching the
heroism of many heroes in heroic poetry the readers
are induced to follow their way of life. Those who
condemn poetry are to be dispraised. They neglect a
means for moving men and women to virtuous action.
Sidney sums up all the vital ideas connected

with the value of poetry to humanity. He stresses the
antiquity, universality, morality and dignity of
poetry.
10.4 Sidney’s reply to the charges against Poetry
Sidney faces the charges of puritan critics

like Stephen Grosson against poetry. Those who
256
without understanding poetry, praise other subjects

and arts are really foolish and try to worship their
folly. Erasums and Agrippa did not realize the
superiority of poetry. Puritan critics attacked
poetry, but the poets also not attack anybody.
It is possible to write poetry without rhyming

or following any verse pattern. Similarly it is
possible to write verses without any poetry in them.
In some cases both poetry and verse go together and
such poetical works cannot be blamed by anybody.
Rhyming and other devices of verse are meant to

fix the words and phrases, ideas and thoughts in the
memory of the readers. So the readers of Virgil,
Horace, and Cato remember some of their lines even
after many years by recalling the music of the verse
patterns.
The first charge is that a man could spend his

time in pursuing many fruitful arts if he ignores
that art of poetry. In other words the study of
poetry is a waste of time.
Secondly, poetry is the mother of lies. Thirdly

it is the nurse of abuse. Chaucer himself has said
that poetry softened the marital velour of the
soldiers and made them sleep in idleness. So the
puritan critics pointed out that the study of poetry
demoralized and debilitated strong people.
No learning in the world is so powerful as

poetry in its power of moving men to virtuous action.
According to Sidney, the study of poetry moralizes
257
and refines the animal and devilish nature of the

people. The poets deal with universal and eternal
truths not affirmatively but allegorically in order
to perfect the imperfect world. They give imaginary
names and details and make men better. They do not
lie like astronomers, historians lawyers and so on.
They are not concerned with the material facts and
figures of this world. Their aim is to present the
eternal world and perfect the perfectible human
beings of the imperfect real world. Therefore they
are not liars.
If the divine art of poetry is abused by the

devilish with of some poets. Poetry is not
responsible for it and is not to be blamed. It is
only the poet who abuses the divine art of poetry
that deserves censure. Sidney explains this fact by
the illustration of a sword being used for the wrong
purpose. If a sword is used to kill a father, the
sword should not be blamed for the unfilial act.
It is the misuse of the sword that is to be

blamed. Similarly there is a natural tendency with
some witty men to abuse even the holy name of God and
write hereby about Him. Therefore only the poets who
abuse their wits by treating of lust, vanity and
scurrility are to be blamed and not the divine art of
poetry.
The great warriors and soldiers used to carry

volumes of poetry inspire them with the ideals of
courage, truth and strength. So poetry did not
debilitate the soldiers. In fact Alexander the Great
258
preferred the dead poet Homer to the living

philosopher, Aristotle because the portrait of
Achilles in Homer’s llaid was more inspiring and real
than Aristotle’s definition of fortitude. The art of
poetry gives many other examples of the courageous
and mighty heroes.
Sidney could not understand the reason for

Plato’s banishment of poetry from his ideal
commonwealth because Plato’s works are essentially
poetical. Examples of poets who succeeded even in
reforming some tyrant kings. He also points out that
many philosophers were banished from their countries.
The Athenians, who disliked philosophers saved their
own lives by quoting a few lines of Euripides before
the Syracusans. The poets, Simonomides and Pindar,
succeeded in changing Hiero, the worst tyrant in to a
just king. According to a common story, even Plato
was sold as a slave by Dionysius the tyrant. So
Sidney makes it clear that philosophy had drawn its
mysterious riddles from the world of poetry but it
failed to grateful to be poetry. On the whole,
philosophy and philosophers cannot excel poetry and
poets.
According to Sidney’s argument, Plato allowed

emotional beings, namely women, into his ideal
commonwealth and so he should not condemn the
emotions of poetry. Regarding the treatment of many
baser gods in some poetry, Sidney answers that the
theology of that time had been responsible for it.
But when compared with the atheism resulting from
philosophical argument, the superstition of poetry is
259
nothing.
Plato only banished the poets who abused their

wits and dealt with lust, vanity and scurrility. But
he did not banish poetry. In fact Plato was a patron
of right poetry and so he condemned the wrong poetry
of the poets who abused their wits.
Laelius, the Roman Socrates, was a poet.

Alexander, Caesar and Scipio were admirers of poetry.
Therefore it was improper to banish poetry from his
ideal Republic. In fact poetry contributes much to
the ideal Republic of Plato. Thus the attack on
poetry when carefully analyzed turns out to be an
appeal for its admiration.
Sidney makes it clear that poetry is an art,

not of lies but of true doctrine, not of
effeminateness but of a notable stirring of courage,
not of arousing man’s wit but of strengthening it; In
fact poetry is not banished but honored by Plato.
Sidney does not understand the indifference of
England towards poetry because poetry has contributed
substantially to the training as English minds and
the making of many other branches of knowledge.
The art of poetry has been admired by many

kings, captains and generals from the earliest times
in several countries. But puritan critics like
Stephen Gosson attacked poetry which prospered more
in wartime than in the peaceful days of Elizabethan
England.
Sidney dislikes the idea of mixing hornpipes
260
and funerals in the tragic-comedy of contemporary

times. He denounces tragic-comedy as a mongrel. He
explains the difference between delight and laughter
with a number of examples. A fair woman delights a
man but people laugh at mad clowns. In short people
delight in good chances but laugh at mischance.
Delight is the result of seeing pleasant scenes and
situations. But laughter is born of deformities and
abnormalities.
It is improper to laugh at a beggar and a

stranger, Sidney condemns the meaningless and
scornful laughter of farcical comedy but encourages
the delightful the teaching of a comedy without any
scorn. The English Comedy of Sidney’s days was based
on the false hypothesis of making people laugh at
everything and offending everybody. Lyrical poetry is
a blessing of God. It is also devoted to the praise
of immortal beauty and goodness of God. Love is
treated as a subject of poetry. It is elevated to the
noble height of sacrifice or degraded as the baser
passion of lust.
Sometimes the words used in poetry are richly

appareled. But at time the words are less colorful
and suggestive as in some verses of conscious
composition.
Some writers use words profusely to produce a

rhetorical effect. A mere string of words and phrases
cannot make good poetry. In fact true poetry lies in
sincerity of expression rather than in words and
phrases, rhymes and rhymes and rhythms. Sidney
261
inquires into the nature of diction in poetry. One of

the essential elements of poetry is effective
diction. The similes drawn from diverse sources are
intended more to explain the meaning of the subject
than to distract the readers.
Men of little learning impress the audience by

their eloquence but professors of wide learning fail
to do so. Similarly minor poets abuse their wit to
please the large public but great poets maintain
their dignity and preserve the purity of poetic art.
Sidney expects words and idea to be properly used
without any abuse as in oratory and baser poetry.
Good poets know how to choose noble subjects and
better expressions in order to make their poetry
eternal. The poets have to chose the best words from
the vernacular language, apply the grammatical
principles and put them in the best order. English is
the best suited for the art of poetry among the
European languages.
Sidney refers to two kinds of versification

ancient and modern. The ancients marked the quantity
of each syllable but the moderns considered the
accent. The language of the English, compared and
contrasted with other European languages, has certain
advantages in making rhymes and none of the defects
of other languages. Sidney praises the unique of the
English language allowing all kind of rhyme the male,
the female and the sorucciola. He also points out the
limitation of Latin, French and Italian.
Sidney sums up, at the end, all the merits of
262
poetry, its freedom from defects and its sway over

all people,art and sciences. Since poetry imparts
virtuous knowledge and moves man and women to
virtuous action it is more useful and valuable than
other arts and sciences to mankind. Those who love
poetry, honor poets and serve poetry are, also to be
honored. They grow rich, fair and wise. They are to
be ranked with the souls of Dante’s Beatrice and
Virgil’s Anchises.
If any one has no power to admire the vault of

poetry, he cannot hear its celestial music and
understand its divine message. If any one
underestimates poetry, he becomes as foolish as King
Midas. On the whole, poetry has the power to teach
the valuable principles of life delightfully.
10.5 The Nature and Function of poetry:
Sidney defends the art of poetry by emphasizing

the antiquity, universality, dignity and utility of
poetry. He refers to the definitions of poetry by
classical writers of the past and establishes the
superiority of poetry over philosophy, History and
the other arts and the sciences. He states that
poetry teaches by giving pleasant and unpleasant
pictures of virtue or vice, and making its readers
move towards virtuous action.
Sidney illustrated the poetry by referring to

the earliest writings in many languages and noting
the fact that earliest of philosophers and historians
wrote their works either in verse or in a poetical
manner. he explains the universality of poetry by
263
saying that almost in all the countries of the world

the earliest writers have been poets. After proving
the antiquity and universality of Poetry, Sidney draw
on the classical writings to explain the nature and
function of Poetry.
The Roman word ‘vates’ suggest the prophetic

nature of Poetry. The Greek word ‘Poiein’ denotes the
creative power of the poet. The Delphic Oracles and
Sibylla’s prophecies were delivered in verses. The
pets have the power to penetrate the hidden reality
and discern the future of the world. Similarly the
poets perfect the imperfect real world by means of
the imagination and intuition displayed in their
poetical works. Both the prophetic nature and the
creative power of the poets definitely differentiate
them from other artists and associate them with God
and the Church.
Sidney uses Plato’s poetic theory of

inspiration and Aristotle’s poetic theory of
imitation to explain the nature and Function of
Poetry. According to Plato the poets are inspired by
their vision of god and the ideal world of heaven.
Hence they build up the ideal world in their works.
On the other hand, Aristotle defines Poetry as an art
of imitation. He explains how the poets imitate the
actual life by giving vivid accounts of the real
world with a view to delight and teach the readers.
Horace also defines the art of Poetry and admires it
for its speaking pictures and delightful teaching.
After explaining the meaning and nature of
264
Poetry in the light of classical achievements, Sidney

describes three kinds of Poetry as religious poetry
illustrated by David’s psalms, S o l o m o n ’ s S o n g o f
songs and the Hymns of Moses and Deborah,
philosophical poetry as illustrated by the moral
works of Tyrtaeus, Phocylides and Cato, and true
poetry, further subdivided in to several kinds such
as heroic, lyric, tragic, comic, satiric, iambic,
elegiac pastoral.
10.6 Let us Sum Up
The main ideas in the Apology for poetry are

not peculiar to Sidney though the arrangement of the
argument is his own. It is a product of his own
intelligence, his own intellectual milieu and its
critical inheritance.
265

1. How does Sidney reply Gosson’s charges against
poetry?
2. What is Sidney’s estimate of contemporary
English poetry and drama?
3. What according to Sidney is the nature and
function of poetry?
10.8 References
Shepherd, Geoffrey An Apology for Poetry, London,
Thomas Nelson and Sons Ltd., 1964.
Shuck Burgh, Evlyn S. An Apology for Poetry.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
266

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THE PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES

1.0 Aims and Objectives

1.2 Chaucer’s life

1.3 His works

1.4 Translation of the prologue to the Canterbury

1.5 English social life as reflected in the prologue

1.6 style and technique in Chaucer’s prologue to the Canterbury tales

1.8 lessons – end activities

1.0 AIMS AND OBJECTIVES

The present lesson presents the following aspects of Geoffrey Chaucer in

3) Translation of the prologue to the Canterbury.

1.2 CHAUCER'S LIFE

At seventeen he received a court appointment as page to the wife of the Duke of

At Christmas, 1399, he took a long lease of a house at Westminster, which

In studying Chaucer's work it is important to remember that his education as a

1.3 HIS WORKS :

Finally, he ceases to be Italian as he had ceased to be French, and becomes

1.4 TRANSLATION OF THE PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY:

THE KNIGHT (Lines 43 - 78)

THE YOUNG SQUIRE (Lines 79-100)

THE YEOMAN (lines 101 - 117)

THE PRIORESS (lines 118-164)

THE MONK (lines 165 - 207)

THE FRANKLIN (lines 331 – 360)

THE FIVE GILDSMEN AND THEIR COOK (lines 361 – 387)

There were also a Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a cloth weaver, a Dyer and an

THE SHIPMAN (lines 388 – 411)

THE DOCTOR OF PHYSIC (lines 412 – 414)

THE WIFE OF BATH (lines 445 – 476)

THE POOR PARSON (lines 477 – 528)

THE PLOWMAN (lines 528 – 541)

THE MILLER (Lines 542 – 566)

Except for a Reeve a Miller, a Summoner, a Pardoner, a Manciple and myself

THE MANCIPLE (lines 567 – 586)

THE REEVE (lines 587 – 622)

THE SUMMONER (lines 623 – 668)

THE PARDONER (lines 669 – 714)

AUTHOR’S PLAN OF REPORTING (lines 715 – 746)

THE HOST AND HIS PROPOSALS (lines 747 – 84)

THE PILGRIMAGE BEGINS (lines 822 – 858)

1.5 ENGLISH SOCIAL LIFE AS REFLECTED IN THE PROLOGUE

Chaucer’s knight is a personification of the lofty ideals of medieval chivalry

Chaucer reports inoutward praise and inward condemnation of the

Gilds were either socio-religious or trade organizations. The five gildsmen

This good lady is sometimes condemned outright as worldly, ambitious, and

The Parson, self-effacing, dutiful and altruistic, is a positive and unpretentious

1.6 STYLE AND TECHNIQUE IN CHAUCER’S PROLOGUE TO THE

‘Embrowded was he, as it wear a mede,

‘Of fustian he werede a gepoun,

All bysmotered with his habergeoun.’

A distinctive feature of the General Prologue is its method of characterization.

Chaucer represents his times completely, not in fragments : there is also a

Chaucer’s poetry is characterised by clarity in expression zest for life, the

Chaucer, however, is capable of pathos and irony which sometimes blend as

Chaucer’s style is characterized chiefly by simplicity. Except in those cases

The device of a springtime pilgrimage, the diverse group of persons making

Chaucer, who had composed on of the great classics of English literature in a

1.7 LET US SUM UP

The study of prologue to Canterbury tales no doubt, proves father of

1.8 LESSON – END ACTIVITIES:

1. Consider the prologue to the Canterbury Tales as a portrait gallery.

Burrow, J.A., Geoffrey Chaucer. England : Penguin Books Ltd., 1969