Christopher Marlowe Poet and Playwright: Studies in Poetical Method [Reprint 2019 ed.] 9783110816075, 9789027933829

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D E PROPRIETATIBUS L I T T E R A R U M edenda curat C. H. VAN SCHOONEVELD Indiana University

Series Practica,

81

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE POET AND PLAYWRIGHT studies in poetical method by VIRGINIA MARY MEEHAN West Georgia College

1974 MOUTON THE HAGUE • PARIS

© Copyright 1974 in The Netherlands Mouton & Co. N.V., Publishers, The Hague No part of this book may be translated or reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publishers

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Printed in the Netherlands

PREFACE

The reader who has been transported into other realms by Christopher Marlowe's plays is often rather rudely brought back to earth by the critics' strictures against the very poetry which elevated him. In one of the popular editions, for example, he reads: "To the very end there appears in Marlowe's writing no sign of league or compromise between the hostile forces of lyric and dramatic inspiration." 1 In another he finds W. W. Greg, who usually extols Marlowe, asserting that Tamburlaine is composed of "rant and youthful crudity". 2 On the other hand, he can also find plaudits as enthusiastic as anyone would wish for Marlowe. For example, Harry Levin points out the artistry which led to Marlowe's audacity as he began to write poetic drama, and which lay in taking a metaphor and acting it out, in turning a manner of speaking into a mode of action, in concretely realizing what had theretofore subsisted on the plane of precept and fantasy. It meant breaking through the artificial compartments that divided speech from spectacle in the tragedies of the Inns of Court, and making drama a much more flexible instrument for mirroring as well as echoing life. 3 Other critics have also recognized the facility with which Marlowe turns metaphor into action; Douglas Cole, who sees this ability in Kyd as well as Marlowe, points out that where these two "are most alike is in turning poetry into drama, the verbal image into the visual image, metaphor into action". 4 Cole also believes that Marlowe's alleged failure to compromise "lyric and dramatic inspiration" is anything but a failure, that it is indeed a manifestation of Marlowe's genius; he says, "No English dramatist before Marlowe had demonstrated with such spectacular effect the ironic force of 1 C. F. Tucker Brooke, ed., The Works of Christopher Marlowe (Oxford, 1910), pp. 308-09. 2 Marlowe's Doctor Faustus (Oxford, 1950), p. 9. 3 The Overreacher (Cambridge, Mass., 1952), p. 48. 4 Suffering and Evil in the Plays of Christopher Marlowe (Princeton, N.J., 1962), p. 252.

6

PREFACE

the rhetoric of action in counterpoint with the rhetoric of language; the dream of the poetic word is consistently confronted with the reality of the dramatic action." 5 The irony which Cole sees in all Marlowe's plays is the motivation, he believes, for Marlowe's stressing "the human habit of cloaking these manifestations of disorder and perversity [which create the tragedy in the plays] in eloquently expressed 'ideals' and high-sounding language".6 Cole's and Levin's statements counter the objections voiced by Tucker Brooke, but Brooke is scarcely alone in his criticism; Wolfgang Clemen also comments on what he sees as a discrepancy in Marlowe's achievement; he remarks that in Edward II Marlowe "was still hovering uncertainly between two different levels of style; he could not reconcile his poet's command of language with his capabilities as a dramatist". 7 However, Dr. M. C. Bradbrook has commented quite simply on the strictures of Clemen, Brooke, Greg, and the rest of their company: " . . . how it is possible to fail as poetry and succeed as drama it is not easy to understand". 8 Moody E. Prior also believes that although the poet is not completely successful in I Tamburlaine in achieving the "intimate union between diction and dramatic form which became the common property of the poetic tragedy of the best Elizabethan dramatists", the play's importance in the history of English drama "can hardly be exaggerated", for it does reveal a concern for that union. 9 Prior furthermore states that although the language of the play "on the surface . . . gives the impression of almost prodigal richness and sometimes of strained elevation amounting on occasion to rant and bombast", there is much more to it than that. He analyzes the effect of ornateness and notes its components, but he climaxes his discussion by asserting: ". . . there is more to the style than profusion of ornament. There is, in fact, a close and essential relationship between the impressions and associations thus set up and the other features of the play, notably character and action and thought, and their absence would fundamentally alter the nature of the play." 10 Another reason for the apparent discrepancy in Marlovian criticism is proposed by F. P. Wilson, who suggests that the critics' judgment is impaired by their habit of reading Marlowe's biography in the plays. He asserts: The danger of reading private allusions into Marlowe's plays is that we do injury to his dramatic gifts. We are tempted to see him in a false perspective s 6 7 « 9 10

Cole, p. 259. Cole, p. 263. "Edward II", Marlowe, ed. Clifford Leech (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964), p. 139. Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge, Eng., 1935), p. 160. The Language of Tragedy (New York, 1947), p. 46. Prior, pp. 34-35.

PREFACE

7

as a frustrated lyric poet ("presumably in the sense that lyric is a subjective expression] instead of the very considerable dramatic poet that he was. We are tempted to forget that a dramatic poet — even an Elizabethan dramatic poet, believing that it is the function of poetry to teach delightfully — may yet be the disinterested artist losing his identity in the stuff which he is turning into art and that a great poet is expressing deeper impulses of his nature than could ever find expression in scoffing conversation with a Richard Baines or a Thomas Kyd.11 The danger of biographical interpretation of the plays is not only that which Wilson here points out — that it leads to misjudgment of Marlowe's gifts, nor as Wilson says in another place, that engaging in controversy about Marlowe's character would leave one no time to discuss his dramatic gifts.12 The danger also is that reading the plays as autobiography leads to a misinterpretation of them. Douglas Cole makes this possibility clear when he says, . . . the qualities and motivations which make Faustus an individual, especially in the way Marlowe has chosen to present them, make him at the same time a figure of more than particular or personal significance. Some critics have sought to identify Faustus' desires with the personal desires of Marlowe, but the whole dramatic structure with its burden of inescapable irony denies that argument.13 On the other hand, there is the statement which J. B. Steane quotes from Paul H. Kocher's Christopher Marlowe, a statement with which one may or may not agree: "The ripest fruit of all in the interpretation of any literary figure is the attainment of some comprehensive and unified view of his nature in its relations with his work."14 One must admit, however, that in the search for the poet's personality his poetry may come to be neglected, as it has often also been neglected by source-hunters and those who search for proof of atheism — those scholars who, as Steane says, spend their time in the quest of "sniping references to the Bible or first-hand knowledge of Machiavelli".15 Such references or proof of knowledge is then applied to filling in the biography of the poet rather than to comprehension of the poetry, as is evident in the prevalence in a Marlowe bibliography of such 11 Marlowe and the Early Shakespeare (Oxford, 1953), p. 48. The "deeper impulses" mentioned by Wilson are interpreted biographically by William Empson when he says that the deaths of Faustus and Edward are due to "two crimes for which Marlowe stood boastfully and defiantly in peril of death". He insists "that this is the primary fact about [Marlowe's] work, and that a critic who muffles it up, from whatever kindly intentions, cannot be saying anything important about him" ("Two Proper Crimes", The Nation, CLXIII [1946], p. 445). 12 Wilson, p. 2. 13 Cole, pp. 232-33. 14 Marlowe (Cambridge, Eng., 1964), p. 337. is Steane, p. 338.

8

PREFACE

titles as Marlowe or Christopher Marlowe. But Marlowes are of comparatively little help in appreciating the artist's genius or in understanding his plays; they do not assist a student as he tries to reconcile the "rhetoric of action" with the "rhetoric of language", or as he tries to comprehend the reason for the success of Marlowe's plays "as drama". Comprehension and appreciation can be augmented, however, by close study of the plays themselves. Adverse criticism can be refuted or found to be justified by looking at the words or the structure of the drama. To achieve these purposes, a study of what has often been called the "lyric" elements of Marlowe's plays seems called for. The immediate object of this study should, it appears, be to determine, if possible, whether these elements are purposefully used or are, instead, an excrescence which should have been excised. To accomplish this end it is necessary first to define "lyric"; from my reading of Tucker Brooke, Greg, Clemen, and Cole, as well as numerous other critics, I have arrived at the somewhat particularized definition which has governed my study. By "lyric" or "poetic" these critics seem to mean the subjective, apparently highly personal tone of Marlowe's plays. This emotional tone results from the hyperbolic diction, the imagery and figures of speech in his work, and it leads me to use the term "emotional rhetoric" 16 rather than "lyric" to denominate generally the object of my study. The imagery which gives rise to Marlowe's emotional rhetoric is most easily isolated in the figures of speech involving comparison, and I have therefore restricted my examination to these figures: the simple or the invidious comparison, the simile, and the metaphor. These figures of speech are differentiated from one another as follows: comparison and simile express the likeness of things by using such terms as "as . . . so" or "as . . . as"; or "as", "like", "so"; or the comparative degree of an adjective or adverb. Furthermore, as Ethel Colbrunn has pointed out, both figures have three essential parts: "the subject, that to which it is compared, and the point of relationship between the two". 17 The comparison is the simpler of the two and differs from the simile by its use of the comparative degree of a modifier or because it compares things of the same kind (a raven and a lark, for example). The simile is more complex in that it compares things of different kinds (a man and a raven); it may also be distinguished from the simpler figure by its use of the introductory words

16

Howard Baker has a slightly different name for it; he says that in bringing "unrhymed poetry suddenly to a state of crystallization . . . [Marlowe limited it] practically to a single effect: poetic oratory . . . Tamburlaine, in simplest terms, is prideoratory" (Induction to Tragedy [University, La., 1939], pp. 53-54). 17 See the unpubl. diss. (University of Florida, 1954), "The Simile as a Stylistic Device in Elizabethan Narrative Poetry", p. 4.

PREFACE

9

"as" or "like". The third figure included in this study - the metaphor - is more subtle than the other two in that it does not use qualifying or introductory terms; the word denoting the object to which the essential subject is being compared replaces the word denoting this subject. (I have on occasion used "metaphor" or "metaphoric" as the generic term to cover all three figures.) The primary purpose of a figure of speech is, of course, to evoke in the audience's mind a vision (though not always a visual one) and to arouse thereby an appropriate emotional state in them. 18 The poet desires thereby to affect one's response to essential aspects of his subject, most frequently in order to add dimension to it by making it more tangible, more beautiful, or more meaningful; or he may wish to hypnotize his audience, as it were, preventing it from reasonably or logically assessing the situation or the character that is the primary subject.19 At times the poet uses a startling image to achieve his purpose; at other times he uses an image in which the element of surprise is small, so that the auditor accepts the comparison implicit or explicit in most figures of speech quite matter-of-factly. A poet may also employ the same image repeatedly in order to imbue it with a certain flavor to which the audience will respond immediately; the last is a stratagem Marlowe puts to good use in II Tamburlaine especially, as will be demonstrated in the discussion of that play. It is a device which is partial-

i s Paul Valéry writes: "A poet's function . . . is not to experience the poetic state: that is a private affair. His function is to create it in others. The poet is recognized . . . by the simple fact that he causes his reader to become 'inspired' " ("Poetry and Abstract Thought", Aspects of Poetry, ed. Mark Linenthal [Boston, 1963], p. 32). See also Ethel Colbrunn, Ronald Peacock, The Art of Drama (New York, 1957), and George P. Baker, "Dramatic Technique in Marlowe", Essays and Studies (Oxford, 1913) for further comments on the role of imagery in Renaissance poetry and in drama. 19 George (or Richard) Puttenham, Marlowe's older contemporary, describes and states the purpose of imagery in figures of speech in these words: "As figures be the instruments of ornament in every language, so be they also in a sorte abuses or rather trespasses in speach, because they passe from the ordinary limits of common utterance, and be occupied of purpose to deceive the eare and also the minde, drawing it from plainnesse and simplicitie to a certain doublenesse . . . ." He also says, "Figurative speech is a noveltie of language evidently (and yet not absurdly) estranged from the ordinarie habite and manner of our dayly talke and writing and figure it selfe is a certaine lively or good grace set upon wordes, speaches and sentences to some purpose and not in vaine, giving them ornament or efficacie by many maner of alterations in shape, in sounds, and also in sence . . . & also by putting into our speeches more pithe and substance, subtiltie, quicknesse, efficacie or moderation" (The Art of English Poesie, eds. Gladys Doidge Willcock and Alice Walker [Cambridge, Eng., 1956], pp. 154, 159).

10

PREFACE

larly useful in dramatic poetry and became, with changes, one of Shakespeare's most effective devices as well. 20 The employment of imagery, especially in figures of speech, to affect the audience's emotions might seem more necessary and appropriate to nondramatic than to dramatic poetry, inasmuch as the stage has other means not available to non-dramatic poets by which to evoke a desired response. Such devices as vocal inflection, gesture, scenery, and costume are indubitably primary means of achieving dramatic effectiveness; nevertheless, imagery is also useful, for it is capable of making a play more immediately effective, as Tamburlaine is because of Marlowe's use of figures of speech.21 Moreover, the Elizabethan stage was not ours; both scenery and supers were scarce, and the stage had to be decorated and peopled by the imagination of the playwright and the audience. In this study I have attempted to determine whether Marlowe's imagery is functional as well as decorative — to discover whether his emotional rhetoric stands apart from his "dramatic inspiration". I have also dealt with the question of the extent to which and means by which Marlowe's rhetoric rises above crudity and ranting in the earliest plays. Quite tentatively, I have also tried to determine whether my findings may not shed some light on the order of creation of some of the plays. The aim of any research is, of course, not simply to understand an artist's technique but through such understanding to achieve an increased appreciation and better comprehension of the work of art itself; therefore, the following pages also include some discussion of the meaning of the plays. Four of the plays are about the effect on the hero of his inordinate aspiration; these four are the two Tamburlaines, The Jew of Malta, and Doctor Faustus. These four plays differ in that the hero of each has a different goal and the playwright uses imagery in each to achieve different ends. In brief, it appears that in the two Tamburlaine plays the poet uses metaphoric language chiefly to portray the aspirer and the effect on him of achievement; in The Jew of Malta he uses imagery primarily to provide leit-motivs appropriate to the play; in Doctor Faustus he employs imagery to contrast what his hero desires with what he gets. Of the other plays only Edward II will be included in this study. Dido is omitted not only because of the uncertainty of Nashe's connection with the play but also because of the frequent similarity of its imagery to that of Tamburlaine and Faustus and, to a lesser extent, Edward II. The imagery of Dido has too little that is distinctive to deserve special analysis. The Massa20 Cf. the imagery of sleep in Macbeth and disease in Hamlet, for example. See Caroline Spurgeon, Shakespeare's Imagery (Cambridge, Eng., 1952). 21 Witness, too, the Noh plays and the symbol-laden modern play.

PREFACE

11

ere at Paris, on the other hand, is omitted mainly because the extant text is so extremely bad thaf one hesitates to reach any conclusions on its evidence. Edward II does not suffer from the infirmities of either of these two; it is extant in a text printed so close to the probable date of its composition that one may assume it to be substantially authentic. Furthermore, its maturity of theme, construction, and diction is so marked that one cannot omit it from consideration in a study such as this. Quotations from all the plays except Doctor Faustus are from the edition of C. F. Tucker Brooke.22 Quotations from Doctor Faustus are from W. W. Greg's parallel text edition. 23 These editions were selected as sources because they are rather widely available. I have taken the liberty of omitting the editors' italics except for speech headings, and I have also changed the editors' usage by adopting modern orthography in the matter of "u", "v", "w", "i M , and "j". I have used italics for editorial emendations also.

22 23

The Works of Christopher Marlowe (Oxford, 1910). Marlowe's Doctor Faustus (Oxford, 1950).

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface

5

1.

"From Jygging Vaines of Riming Mother Wits" .

. . .

15

2.

/

Tamburlaine

20

3.

II

Tamburlaine

42

4.

The Jew of Malta

62

5.

Doctor Faustus

72

6.

Edward II

78

7.

"From Jygging Vaines" to "Marlowe's Mighty Line" .

. 90

Bibliography

97

Index

99

1.

"FROM JYGGING VAINES OF RIMING MOTHER WITS"

Early in the Elizabethan era the drama was a malleable object, waiting for playwrights with the genius to form it. Some plays being produced were wooden imitations of what the classics were presumed to be; others, in the tradition of the native theater, portrayed types in stereotyped situations; still others were unrelieved farce. Then in the 1580s a new breed of young men came to London from the universities. Aware of the possibilities of the professional theater, these young men — the "University Wits" — undertook to write plays which would enhance their reputations and their purses. Fortunately, they not only had the insight to recognize that changes were necessary but the ability to make them. They were aware that financial success depended on appealing to all sorts of men, that to appeal to a popular audience a play would have to be at least partly realistic as well as somewhat humorous, but that to appeal to a better educated audience a playwright would have to abjure the most obvious buffoonery and would also have to demonstrate a worthwhile theme in his play. They also recognized that a playwright, in order to promote his reputation, would have to produce creditable prose or poetry at the same time as he was fulfilling the other conditions necessary to success. Happily, the University Wits were capable of beginning at least to make the necessary changes which were to mold the drama into a form so brilliant that its appeal has endured throughout the centuries. John Lyly, Robert Greene, George Peele, Thomas Kyd, and Christopher Marlowe each contributed to this art form, not only by rejecting what was awkward and immature in their predecessors' work but also by accepting and sometimes adapting what was fruitful or good. Among the elements rejected were those with a limited appeal, the most farcical burlesque and the dullest didacticism, although these playwrights did not abandon either humor or teaching; as they devoted their plays to serious examination of the eternal questions they relieved the seriousness or made their points with humor or even farce. In Doctor Faustus, for example, Christopher Marlowe emphasized his meaning with the buffoonery of the play's middle scenes and raised the clownage of the mystery plays to serious intent. 1

16

"FROM JYGGING VAINES OF RIMING MOTHER WITS'

The playwrights also adapted and changed the classic conventions. Even Seneca was not wholeheartedly accepted, although both the inclinations and the education of these writers prevented a wholesale rejection of his tactics. His devices were familiar to them from the drama of their youth, which was as graphic in its representation of brutality and murder as the Roman had ever been; furthermore, Seneca himself was very much alive to them. He was studied in the schools, and the Latin plays written and produced at the universities were often based on his tragedies. Nevertheless, Seneca's influence is most clearly seen in English plays, as Cole points out, not in onstage murder and brutality but in "the use of classical allusion, the hyperbolic imagery and carefully elaborated rhetoric". 2 So far as Marlowe is concerned, Senecan influence is limited, as both Cole and Boas agree; Cole maintains that the chief influence visible in Marlowe is the "English tragic traditions of medieval origin". 3 And Professor Boas remarks: "It was not the aim of the daring young dramatist to follow in the Senecan tradition and to stress with appropriate moralizing the mutations of Fortune." 4 It is, of course, not only from the distant past that the Elizabethan playwrights learned; they also were taught by their fellows and developed what they learned. Characterization, for example, made immense strides during their relatively short period in the theater, especially characterization of women. Rosalind in As You Like It owes a great deal to Margaret in Greene's Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, nor was Margaret born full-grown from Greene's imagination; the heroine in Lyly's Alexander and Campaspe is well on the way to being a real woman. Dramatic construction was also advanced by the work of the University Wits. Their plots became more complex and less episodic and moved more easily from beginning through middle to end than those of their predecessors. Again Friar Bacon must be cited as an example ; Greene makes use of plot and subplot and binds them together rather well through his use of the same characters in both. Doctor Faustus also, despite its faults, demonstrates inventiveness in plotting; Marlowe is manifestly concerned with reflecting the main plot in the subplot. 5 Clearly, both characterization and plotting made advances in the 1580s and '90s.

1 Douglas Cole remarks: "The comic scenes cany out the central irony of the play: they present in visual terms the real natute of Faustus' bargain; they provide in terms of action an effective contrast to Faustus' original aspirations" (p. 216). 2 Cole, p. 251. 3 Ibid. 4 F. S. Boas, Christopher Marlowe (Oxford, 1940), p. 76. s Other plays are less complex than Friar Bacon or Faustus, of course, or like Tamburlaine are held together by other means than plot, because the playwright has other ends in view.

FROM JYGGING VAINES OF RIMING MOTHER WITS"

17

The concern herein, however, is not primarily with characterization or construction but with that other important element of drama, diction. This is one of the chief beauties of the Elizabethan theater; in his analysis of Tudor-Stuart drama to determine the reasons for this drama's enduring superiority, Moody E. Prior asserts: " . . . nearly all the dramatists from Marlowe to Shirley share a capacity for imaginative use of language, for arresting and revealing metaphors, and for brilliant images; and among no other group of dramatists has this talent revealed itself so generally". 6 The preoccupation of the Elizabethans with diction is abundantly manifested both in their theoretical writings and in their literary practice. Poets, rhetoricians, and translators worked assiduously to enrich vocabulary and style. The inkhorn controversy is only one of numerous indications of the absorbing interest the Elizabethan men of letters took in such matters. 7 Both Latinists and native woodnote warblers agreed that English was not yet quite adequate either rhythmically or conceptually, and all who worked directly with the language used their talents to add to its resources. The search for effective imagery is an essential part of their endeavors, especially in poetry and drama. 8 Writers turned their faculties to the choice of images and figures of speech appropriate to the context and expressive of the ideas and emotions they wished to convey. Their skill in handling imagery at first developed only gradually, in ways not always easy to define, and becoming more and more elusive as their art advanced and their ability to utilize complex associations increased. The gradual increase in subtlety and effectiveness may be seen in a comparison of Peele's, Marlowe's, and Shakespeare's use of a similar image. In his Old Wives Tale Peele uses the image of the lodestar: 9 Tell me, Time, tell me, just Time, When shall I Delia see? When shall I see the Lodestar of my life? (535-37) 10 6 Prior, p. 93. 7 In the inkhorn controversy, the party which believed in the adequacy of the native language did not therefore deny the need to increase the vocabulary. Their argument was that English contained the elements from which a wholly adequate vocabulary could be formed. 8 That it was particularly necessary at this time is attested to by Moody E. Prior, who remarks that what is "especially surprising about [Gorboduc] in view of what became an invariable feature of the diction of Elizabethan tragedy is the almost complete absence of metaphors". He also notes that there are "very few similes", and, one infers, not too many comparisons, in the sense in which that word is used herein (p. 32). 9 "Lodestar" at this, time, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, meant a fixed point of reference by which to steer, usually but not always the North Star. 10 Charles Read Baskervill, Virgil B. Heltzel, and Arthur H. Netheroot, eds., Elizabethan and Stuart Plays (New York, 1934).

18

"FROM JYGGING VAINES OF RIMING MOTHER WITS"

Marlowe's Barabas uses the same image: But stay, what starre shines yonder in the East? The Loadstarre of my life, if Abigail. (11.680-81) Shakespeare's Romeo exclaims: But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. (II.ii.2-3) 11 Peele's image is simple and fairly conventional. Marlowe's lines are more complex and have more significance. A more concrete picture is conjured up, and there is gradation: a star (probably the sun) seems to be rising, to become "the Loadstarre of my life" only in the second line; it is equated with Abigail, the bearer of the Jew's gold, suggesting the importance of gold to Barabas. In Shakespeare the picture is even more concrete as well as more complex; here the sun, the day star, reveals the overwhelming importance of Juliet to Romeo. The imagery of Marlowe and Shakespeare measurably intensifies the emotional impact of these lines on the reader, whereas that of Peele seems to be little more than a cliché. Marlowe is obviously no Shakespeare, yet he has, through the use of the image, achieved a degree of characterization which Peele did not attempt. It is, in fact, his use of imagery to characterize which is so strikingly effective in I Tamburlaine. When Edward Alleyn stepped on the stage, it was not solely his appearance, his dramatic ability, nor his declamation which made Tamburlaine the Great appear in the flesh; it was also the words he spoke and the emotions and visions aroused by his words and those of the other players. The audience could not recognize the resemblance of Tamburlaine (in the person of Alleyn) to Hercules or Achilles unless the playwright pointed it out to them. Until the viewer heard someone say that his hair was "wrapped in curies, as fierce Achilles was", he would not realize the likeness. By pointing out the resemblance, Marlowe established one facet of his hero, and later references to Achilles or Troy remind the audience that Tamburlaine is like the Greek hero. But this is only one aspect of Tamburlaine; he is also like Jove, and the poet carefully establishes this likeness as well, so that he can call it forth again by mentioning thunder or the gods. In addition to adding to the emotional and physical dimensions of his hero in this manner, the poet also enlarges the hero's army and enlivens the scene through imagery, so that when a messenger reports the strength of offstage forces, they become more than statistics, and when someone describes the towers of Babylon, they almost appear on stage. These are ii

Hardin Craig, ed., The Complete Works of Shakespeare (New York, 1951).

"FROM JYGGING VAINES OF RIMING MOTHER WITS"

19

among the varied purposes for which Marlowe, taught by his contemporaries, uses imagery in I Tamburlaine; in this and the other plays he uses figures of speech to characterize or to aggrandize or to evoke sympathy or antipathy for his personages; he decorates the stage, creates suspense, and establishes an ambiance appropriate to his hero; in short, through imagery he manipulates the audience to evoke the emotional (or, more rarely, the intellectual) response he desires. Ultimately, of course, the purpose of drama — to entertain and move and to expound a theme — is achieved through the fusion of lyricism and dramatic construction. And even though as an innovator in dramatic construction as well as in dramatic poetry Marlowe is sometimes crude, exuberant, or immature in his methods, he does achieve the desired end as he merges poetry with the theme and plot of his plays so that the dramatis personae live and breathe in an atmosphere peculiar to them. His success is obvious to an audience reading or seeing one of his plays. The means to that success are clear in a study of the imagery.

2.

I TAMBURLAINE

In Tamburlaine, part I, Marlowe makes his hero and what happens to his personality, rather than the action, the soul of the quasi-tragedy.1 His purpose is quite apparent in the imagery used in the play, which portrays a hero who is in the beginning a thoroughly beautiful and gigantically ambitious young man but who becomes a brutal, tyrannous general before a final apotheosis of sorts.2 Marlowe's purpose is served also by the imagery which characterizes the hero's opponents, who successively increase in strength as he degenerates, and finally by the imagery which imbues the atmosphere surrounding the hero with its characteristic though changing hue. Perhaps the most important task of the imagery in the first Tamburlaine play is the characterization of the aspiring Tamburlaine; although it could conceivably be destroyed by an utterly wrong actor, it is certainly less dependent on the person and dramatic ability of the actor, even though that actor be Edward Alleyn, than on the words and imagery of the poet. The hero's gigantic personality, which - it is hardly necessary to say — makes the play, is created by what is said about him and what he himself says; however, two passages in particular distill the "Quintessence" of what is said about and by him. The first of these key passages (II.i.461-84) establishes the hero's personality and appearance; the second (V.ii. 1916-71) is an attempt to resurrect his personality which has been allowed to deteriorate, and at the same time it reflects some of the changes incurred in the conqueror's progress.3 J J. B. Steane refutes criticism of the allegedly faulty construction of the play by showing "that a basic function of this drama is the manipulation of sympathies for or against the hero, and the form is determined by that" (p. 98). 2 Frank B. Fieler has analyzed the playwright's manipulation of history and poetry as it results in the apotheosis of Tamburlaine so that the audience will accept him as a hero, and he has also noted the reasons for the subsequent degradation of the hero, which he asserts is necessitated by convention (Tamburlaine, Part I and Its Audience [Gainesville, Ha., 1961]). 3 My conclusions are, of course, based on my subjective, emotional response to Marlowe's poetic devices. I have, however, attempted to be as objective as possible by

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21

The first of these distillations is Menaphon's description of the hero. It begins thus: Of stature tall, and straightly fashioned, Like his desire, lift upwards and divine, So large of lims, his joints so strongly knit, Such breadth of shoulders as might mainely beare Olde Atlas burthen, twixt his manly pitch, A pearle more worth, then all the world is plaste: Wherein by curious soveraintie of Art, Are fixt his piercing instruments of sight: Whose fiery cyrcles beare encompassed A heaven of heavenly bodies in their Spheares: That guides his steps and actions to the throne, Where honor sits invested royally: (461-72) The first simile in these lines, "like his desire", almost gives individual life to Tamburlaine's aspiration by detaching it from his physical being and, inasmuch as most similes have concrete things as their object, by imbuing it with a concrete quality simply by reason of its being the object of a simile. The phrase that follows, which characterizes both aspiration and body, merges them again and adds more solidity to the hero's desire; the metaphoric "lift" in this phrase emphasized by the adverb "upwards" intensifies and is intensified by the suggestive attributes, "tall" and "straightly", in the first line so that desire becomes divine, and Tamburlaine becomes godlike. "Divine" is to be understood almost literally in the context. The next two lines, on a lower rhetorical level, provide a kind of breathing space in which the audience can savor or perhaps digest the foregoing before the next spate of imagery; the images of "Olde Atlas burthen" and "pearle" representing Tamburlaine's head are beginning steps in a second progression from the mundane to the divine. Then where one would expect "nature" or one of its commonplace synonyms, the poet uses the phrase "soveraintie of Art"; by this means he suggests a sublime element in the creation of Tamburlaine. 4 Consequently, the hero has been elevated above the realm of humanity, and he is kept on the superior plane by the extravagant phrase "piercing instruments of sight". The next metaphor, "fiery cyrcles", is the last step in the progression, for the hero is therewith placed in the heavens. The image of eyes as the circles of the spheres would be weighing alternative possibilities and by comparing my responses to those reported by others. 4 Ait is likely to appear more sublime than nature to the humanist, whose interest in man as man is expressed in art works or in appreciation or contemplation of art. Furthermore, the word "artificial" or "art" is customarily a term of praise in the Renaissance. In this excerpt "Art" is also made more impressive by the qualifier "soveraintie".

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ludicrous if too explicitly envisioned, but the poet has guarded against this eventuality by carrying his audience gradually from the earthly and sensible to the heavenly and unencompassable. Then he provides a second breathing space in the lines in which "throne" is somewhat ambiguous — neither earthly nor heavenly, neither real nor figurative. The poet goes on to introduce other pictorial images as well as some less tangible and visualizable qualities in the next few lines: Pale of complexion: wrought in him with passion, Thirsting with soverainty with love of armes. His lofty browes in foldes, do figure death, And in their smoothnesse, amitie and life: About them hangs a knot of Amber heire, Wrapped in curies, as fierce Achilles was, On which the breath of heaven delights to play, Making it daunce with wanton majestie: His armes and' fingers long and sinowy, Betokening valour and excesse of strength: In every part proportioned like the man Should make the world subdued to Tamburlaine. (473-84)

The principally effective words ("passion", "thirsting", "lofty", "do figure death . . . amitie and life", "valour and excesse of strength") which include abstract and concrete, figurative and literal terms, reintroduce the human and earthly, so that Tamburlaine is recognized as a man again, but a superior man, a demi-god, "as fierce Achilles was". This simile, ostensibly concerned with a comparison of the curls of the two heroes, is immediately impressive as an equating of them; in addition, the elements of the simile add concreteness and gaiety to the portrait of the shepherd turned general. Thus the poet has taken his hero from divinity back to humanity, but super-humanity, for he ends by proceeding from the description to the name in two steps, linking the portrait first to "the man" who can subdue the world and then to "Tamburlaine". The effect of these lines, as closely packed with images as any in the play, and of each of the images separately and all together is to exalt Tamburlaine so that his aspiration seems justified. Furthermore, their effect is so impressive that it can scarcely be dispelled. The reappearance of one or another of the images used here awakens sensations intensified because they were first felt in this extraordinarily rich passage. Moreover, the poet makes certain that the flavor will last by easing very gradually back into the action, devoting the next few lines to additional praise of Tamburlaine before turning to condemnation of Mycetes and to the plot against him. Nor is the effect of these words controverted by the denunciation of Tamburlaine in the next scene, for Mycetes, who then speaks, has already been character-

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ized as an almost witless, certainly strengthless, king, and his words can do as little harm to the hero's character as his army can do to the Scythian's. However, as the play continues, Tamburlaine coarsens. The accretion of an element of savagery in his personality proceeds gradually, and it is repeatedly almost negated as he again asserts his aspiration, idealizing it by the beauty of his language as in the "sweet fruition of an earthly crowne" speech.5 Furthermore, in the scene in the third act in which Agidas is condemned and dies, episodes which could conceivably disastrously debase the hero, Marlowe carefully manipulates the dialogue so that none of the three directly concerned — Tamburlaine, Zenocrate, or Agidas — is demeaned. 6 Ultimately, of course, in Act IV, scene i, Marlowe begins quite precipitously to portray the degeneration of his hero. 7 There are a few scattered lines in the following scenes, which, by suggesting Tamburlaine's aspiration8 or his magnanimity, alleviate somewhat the cruelty and coarseness of the hero as he is now portrayed, but the overwhelming impression is of an implacable tyrant in complete contrast to the mentally and physically beautiful creature of the early acts. Finally, however, immediately after the brutal slaughter of the Virgins of Damascus (V.ii. 1845-1915), the nadir reached by the hero in this play, Marlowe attempts to revitalize that beautiful being in a speech which expresses the man Menaphon had described, albeit one who has been changed by his experiences. The speech which is charged with such heavy resporisibility is the soliloquy in which Tamburlaine debates the merits of Zenocrate's plea for her father's life; it begins with a portrait of her: Ah faire Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate, Faire is too foule an Epithite for thee, That in thy passion for thy countries love, And feare to see thy kingly Fathers harme, With haire discheweld wip'st thy watery cheeks: And like to Flora in her mornings pride, Shaking her silver treshes in the aire, Rain'st on the earth resolved pearle in showers, And sprinklest Saphyrs on thy shining face, Wher Beauty, mother to the Muses sits, And comments vollumes with her Yvory pen: s For a discussion of this speech, see below, pp. 35-36. However, J. B. Steane's words about the speech are apropos here. He says, "This is one of the great passages in the play, and when it is given Tamburlaine at a point where conventional morality condemns him its effect must be to afford a protection against the hostility of that morality" (p. 97). 6 For a discussion of this episode, see below, pp. 32-34. 7 For a full discussion, see below, pp. 36-39. 8 Tamburlaine's aspiration is usually portrayed in magnificent or,.at least, joyful terms, so that the effect is to gain the audience's sympathy.

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ITAMBURLAINE Taking instructions from thy flowing eies, Eies when that Ebena steps to heaven, In silence of thy solemn Evenings walk, Making the mantle of the richest night, The Moone, the Planets, and the Meteors light. (V.ii. 1916-31)

Through hyperbole, simile, and metaphor the poet transforms the tears of Zenocrate into morning dew, then precious gems, and he climaxes the transformation by making her eyes the equal of the sun. Thus he takes specific steps to remove the audience from the earthly tragedy to heavenly realms. Next, having clouded the atmosphere with images which move so rapidly back and forth between heaven and earth that his audience can scarcely judge reasonably what the hero is talking about, Marlowe reverts to the hero's problems again, as Tamburlaine continues: There Angels in their christal armours fight A doubtfull battell with my tempted thoughtes, For Egypts freedom and the Souldans life: His life that so consumes Zenocrate, Whose sorrowes lay more siege unto my soule, Than all my Army to Damascus walles. And neither Perseans Soveraign, nor the Turk Troubled my sences with conceit of foile, So much by much, as dooth Zenocrate. (1932-40) The question whether Tamburlaine should extend mercy to the Sultan is thus alleged to be cause for a heavenly battle. (The opening "There" is certainly ambiguous, standing for either or both heaven and Zenocrate's eyes, but in either case Tamburlaine seems to believe it a heavenly battle.) Nevertheless, the statement of the cause and its ramifications returns the speaker and his audience quite concretely to earth. These lines reveal the change in the hero; in the comparison, "sorrows . . . walles", Tamburlaine measures Zenocrate's sorrows against his army's siege, whereas earlier in the play he had no need to measure her worth against anything so gross but could assert unequivocally that she was worth more to him than the Persian crown (I.ii.286-87); Marlowe then wrote in the vein of Tamburlaine's immature hyperbole; the hero had not yet done battle and conquered kingdoms. Now he has matured; if he shows mercy to the Sultan, he breaks the vow expressed in the symbolism of his white, red, and black colors; a vow which he has just insisted on fulfilling as he ordered the execution of the Virgins of Damascus — to the horror of those who thought his words, "What, are the Turtles fraide out of their neastes?" (V.ii. 1845), a presage of mercy. Obviously the situation now calls for obfuscation; therefore the hero resorts to an apostrophe to beauty which will, the poet seems to hope, darken counsel:

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What is beauty saith my sufferings then? If all the pens that ever poets held, Had fed the feeling of their maisters thoughts, And every sweetnes that inspir'd their harts, Their minds, and muses on admyred theames: If all the heavenly Quintessence they still From their immortall flowers of Poesy, Wherein as in a myrrour we perceive The highest reaches of a humaine wit. If these had made one Poems period And all combin'd in Beauties worthinesse, Yet should ther hover in their restlesse heads, One thought, one grace, one woonder at the least, Which into words no vertue can digest: (1941-54)

The abstract quality of the ideas voiced in these lines may be felt to have been made somewhat more concrete in the central lines of this unrhymed sonnet, 9 yet the metaphors, "Quintessence" and "flowers", scarcely render these lines more substantial than the rest. Nor does "myrrour" add much of concreteness, for it is not clearly either a glass mirror or a book of "mirror" literature. However, this flight of fancy enables the conqueror to convince himself and the poet to convince his audience — or at least to prevent them from thinking so that they can accept what follows — that Tamburlaine can change the rules he made and be merciful to the Sultan;10 the poet has carried his audience so far from Damascus that the "Turtles" for whom Tamburlaine had refused to abjure his vow are no longer clearly remembered, and the contrast between the hero in that scene and this is obscured. Finally, in the closing lines of the soliloquy, Tamburlaine, concluding that beauty is beyond image or reason, yet asks: But how unseemly is it for my Sex My discipline of armes and Chivalrie, My nature and the terrour of my name, To harbour thoughts effeminate and faint? Save onely that in Beauties just applause, With whose instinct the soule of man is toucht, And every warriour that is rapt with love, 9 For a discussion of this and other fourteen-line passages as unihymed sonnets, see Ants Oras, "Lyrical Instrumentation in Marlowe: A Step Towards Shakespeare", Studies in Shakespreare, eds. Arthur D. Matthews and Clark M. Emery (Coral Gables, Fla., 1953), pp. 74-87. 10 Roy W. Battenhouse points out one aspect, at least, in which Marlowe's depiction of Tamburlaine accords with Renaissance theory regarding the effect of beauty, when he says, "We note that Zenocrate's beauty, earthly though it is, can modify the sternness of Tamburlaine's spirit. Under the spell of her beauty he spares her father's life" ("Tamburlaine's Passions", Marlowe, ed. Leech, p. 65).

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Of fame, of valour, and of victory Must needs have beauty beat on his conceites, I thus conceiving and subduing both That which hath stoopt the tempest of the Gods, Even from the fiery spangled vaile of heaven, To feele the lovely warmth of shepheards flames, And martch in cottages of strowed weeds, Shal give the world to note for all my byrth, That Vertue solely is the sum of glorie, And fashions men with true nobility. (1955-71) The hero's resolution to pardon the Sultan is implicit in the closing lines. Furthermore, the implications of his earlier statement: "vertue 11 is the fount whence honor springs" (IV.iv.1769), are realized in the culmination of this soliloquy in which poet and warrior are blended. Although Tamburlaine makes it clear that the resolution of his problem is beyond reason, he also makes one feel that the power of beauty is capable of superseding reason; and that he, the general, can feel this power is given as proof of his "Vertue", "glorie", and "nobility". The speech as a whole is reminiscent of the early Tamburlaine, who onstage, at least, marched from the humble shepherd's cottage largely by his ability to use words to convince men of his power and magnanimity. That the lines are packed with imagery is a reminder of the early Tamburlaine, as are the words in which he speaks of the angels and gods. A new quality is displayed in the overt measurement of material things against beauty, as well as in the specific allusion to his foes; the general allusions to war and arms are in keeping with the hero as he was when first met. Clearly, the most important and immediately perceptible function of the figurative language in this soliloquy is to help keep the episode on a somewhat rarefied plane and thus to resurrect the splendid Tamburlaine at a moment when he sorely needs resurrection if he is to remain a hero. The close conjunction of these lines with the episode of the massacre of the Virgins of Damascus is certainly crude, for although the audience is reminded in this speech of the glorious hero of the earlier acts, the distaste il The OED lists several contemporary meanings for "virtue"; one is "the possession or display of manly qualities", apparently the equivalent of the Greek arete ; this meaning occurs in quotations throughout the Renaissance. The word is also shown to mean moral excellence or moral qualities, of course, and the OED gives many examples of its use in this meaning during Marlowe's lifetime. A third meaning demonstrated during this period is superiority or excellence "in some respect". It would seem that the first here given is close to Marlowe's usage. F. P. Wilson says of Marlowe's use of the word: ". . . to what sort of virtue does [Tamburlaine] pin his faith, if not the Italian virtù, the power of the human intellect and will, and the full development of that power?" (p. 51).

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felt at his cruelty probably cannot be entirely dispelled even for Elizabethans. 12 What is more, the disparity between the contiguous portraits of the hero as tyrant and as poet contributes to the tension felt by the audience and the resultant uncertainty of their judgment of the hero as the play ends. On the whole, however, this passage performs a necessary function by at least partially resurrecting the sympathetic Tamburlaine as he announces and justifies the act of mercy by which he spares Zenocrate's father. In addition to using aggregations of imagery in long passages such as these two, Marlowe also uses imagery in a less concentrated form to characterize minor personages. Perhaps the most striking example of the poet's use of metaphoric language to characterize a secondary figure is Mycetes. The depiction of the Persian as a weak, fumbling creature is tellingly achieved by portraying him as a misuser of figurative speech. As the play moves from the Prologue's condemnation of the "jygging vaines of riming mother wits" and his promise to introduce his audience to "the Scythian Tamburlaine / Threatning the world with high astounding tearms" to the court of Mycetes, who asks his brother to speak for him, "For it requires a great and thundring speech" (I.i.l 1), the poet leaves us in no doubt that the first speaker is anything but a Tamburlaine. The implications of the metaphor "thundring" might very well be lost in the scene in which it plays such a minor part, quantitatively at least, yet Marlowe gets full value from it through the contrast between the King's words and the promise of the Prologue's. A more intensive use of figurative language occurs a few moments later when Mycetes says, that Tamburlaine That like a Foxe in midst of harvest time, Dooth pray uppon my flockes of Passengers. And as I heare, doth meane to pull my plumes, (I.i.38-41) The beginning of the simile is quite apt and expresses an acceptable view of Tamburlaine; however, the King seems to be carried away with his own wit and in his attempt to fill in the picture not only suggests that his subjects are geese but also becomes one himself. The degradation of Tamburlaine which Mycetes seeks is lost in the involuntary self-irony of the simile's

12 Professor Boas disagrees to some extent, but I think he is somewhat too sanguine when he says, "[in part I] even the brutalities to Bajazeth and the massacre at Damascus could do no more than blur the resplendent picture of a world-conqueror whose ambition was in essence the divine intoxication of the spirit and the senses, which is the creative foundation of all the arts" (p. 99).

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extension. Marlowe further portrays the futility of Mycetes in the lack of taste exhibited in the words addressed to his commander: Go frowning foorth, but come thou smyling home, As did Sir Paris with the Grecian Dame, (I.i.73-74) The simile's purpose is achieved because the incongruity of the image (after all, Helen's kidnaping brought annihilation, not victory, to Paris' people) reflects the King's ineptitude. Mycetes is also characterized by what is said about him, as when Cosroe says, in a later scene: And when the princely Persean Diadem, Shall overway his wearie witless head, And fall like mellowed fruit, with shakes of death, (II.i.499-501) The simile is doubly suggestive, describing a resemblance between the actions and the things - fruit falling as the tree is shaken and diadem falling as the head shakes in the throes of death, and both suggestions are effective, adding another element of the ridiculous to the characterization of Mycetes. The poet also shows Mycetes' character on the battlefield to be consistent with that in the court, when the King tells what he sees on the field: . . . those were hit by pelting Cannon shot, Stand staggering like a quivering Aspen leafe, Fearing the force of Boreas boistrous blasts, (II.iv.666-68) The second term of the simile ("quivering aspen leafe") suggests the cowardice of Mycetes as much as the staggering of the wounded; that Mycetes uses the singular "leafe" rather than a plural matching "those" might suggest that his mind has wandered from the soldiers to himself; moreover, just about to hide his crown, he both quivers and fears so obviously that one sneers exactly as Tamburlaine does when he enters. Thus, through metaphoric language, Marlowe portrays Mycetes, the first and least of Tamburlaine's foes, from the moment he appears. Tamburlaine's first convert, the unfortunate Mycetes' general, Theridamas, is also characterized by metaphoric language. The general is completely different from the King, and his strength is vividly portrayed at his first entrance, when Mycetes calls him: the verie legges Whereon our state doth leane, as on a staffe, That holds us up, and foiles our neighbour foes. (I.i.67-69)

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The metaphors do little for Mycetes, but they do establish Theridamas' solidity, a quality which Marlowe builds on in this and the succeeding play. Another characteristic, his unimaginative stolidity, is shown in his addendum to Tamburlaine's "sweet fruition" paean, which is an answer to Cosroe's accusation of treachery. Theridamas' speech is a justification of his re-allegiance; he says, And that made me to joine with Tamburlain, For he is grosse and like the massie earth, That mooves not upwards, nor by princely deeds Doth meane to soare above the highest sort. (II.vi.881-84) Marlowe effectively portrays Theridamas' lack of comprehension in his misinterpretation of the Scythian shepherd's words, which had, in fact, elevated the earth. The simile also adds something to the characterization of Tamburlaine, in that it emphasizes his strength and dependability. In this manner Marlowe frequently achieves a double purpose with metaphoric language. He reveals something about the speaker as well as the character or thing spoken of. However, this speech is especially effective in portraying the stolid Theridamas, who, it might be noted, is almost always portrayed as insensitive and unimaginative, thus a foil for Tamburlaine. Tamburlaine's second opponent, Cosroe, whose accusations Theridamas and Tamburlaine answer so revealingly, is a relatively colorless figure; the imagery in his speech is more important as it reflects on other characters or elicits revealing words from them than as it discloses his personality. He is succeeded, however, by more worthy opponents for the Scythian, Bajazeth and Zabina, two creatures whom Marlowe characterizes very fully and whose conduct very much affects Tamburlaine's as the playwright begins to show the Scythian's deterioration. At his first entrance Bajazeth is portrayed as having, like Mycetes, an unhappy knack with language, when he says, As many circumcised Turkes we have And warlike bands of Christians renied, As hath the Ocean or the Terrene sea Small drops of water, when the Moon begins To joine in one her semi-circled homes: (III.i.926-30) The immensity suggested by the sea image is diffused by the adjective "small", and the vision of the moon adds nothing but simply tends further to dissipate the image of plenitude first aimed at. The playwright thus portrays the Turk's ineffectiveness by crediting him with a failure of wit. Bajazeth's linguistic ineptitude is complemented by his abortive combativeness, which is apparent in this exchange with Tamburlaine:

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Baj. Zabina, mother of three braver boies, Than Hercules, that in his infancie Did pash the jawes of Serpents venomous: Whose hands are made to gripe a warlike Lance, Their shoulders broad, for complet armour fit, Their lims more large and of a bigger size Than all the brats ysprong from Typhons loins: Who, when they come unto their fathers age, Will batter Turrets with their manly fists. Sit here upon this royal chaire of state, And on thy head weare my Emperiall crowne, (IH.iii. 1201-11) Tam. Zenocrate, the loveliest Maide alive, Fairer than rockes of pearle and pretious stone, The onely Paragon of Tamburlaine, Whose eies are brighter than the Lamps of heaven, And speech more pleasant than sweet harmony: That with thy lookes canst cleare the darkened Sky: And calme the rage of thundring Jupiter: Sit downe by her: adorned with my Crowne, As if thou wert the Empresse of the world. (1215-23) The sympathy of the audience is enlisted for the hero in this short debate, for Bajazeth is represented as a man whose thoughts are solely of destruction, 13 whereas Tamburlaine is represented as one who would choose to conquer by beauty rather than force. The same spiritual contrast is evidenced throughout the episode, for even when Tamburlaine boasts of his martial power, his images transcend those of Bajazeth. 14 After the Turk and his Empress become prisoners of the Scythian, the scene becomes considerably more horrible. Zabina calls their captivity A hell, as hoplesse and as full of feare As are the blasted banks of Erebus: (V.ii.2024-25) The atmosphere is darkened by her words and images as well as by those of her husband, and the poisoned atmosphere affects the audience's reaction to the hero. At the same time as Tamburlaine is debased, however, the captives degrade themselves, for they are not depicted in a favorable light, and they are rarely given images which evoke sympathy. Bajazeth, for example, begins one lament with a relatively sympathetic

13 One also notes the vulgar "pash" and the crude pleonasm in Bajazeth's speech (11. 1206-7), which suggest a certain vulgarity in his character. 14 Cf. 1236-39 and 1246-51.

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image frequently used by his conqueror, but he goes on immediately to change its tone by using antipathetic imagery: O highest Lamp of everliving Jove, Accursed day infected with my griefs, Hide now thy stained face in endles night, And shut the windowes of the lightsome heavens. Let ugly darknesse with her rusty coach Engyrt with tempests wrapt in pitchy clouds, Smother the earth with never fading mistes: And let her horses from their nostrels breathe Rebellious winds and dreadfull thunderclaps: That in this terrour Tamburlaine may live, And my pin'd soul resolv'd in liquid ayre, May styl excruciat his tormented thoughts. Then let the stony dart of sencelesse colde, Pierce through the center of my withered heart, And make a passage for my loathed life. (V.ii.2071-85) "Infected" and "stained" are emotionally effective and set the tone of the speech. The image of shuttered windows — blacked-out stars — carries on the suggestion of a distressed universe begun with those words. The personification running throughout these lines appears in "wrapt", which helps make the depicted scene more tangible, and in "smother", which carries out one of the connotations of "wrapt". "Rebellious" is another emotional word, rapidly regaining in these troubled decades the dreadful connotations it had in the poet's era. Thus in the first nine lines, Bajazeth has drawn a picture of a horrible world, diseased and overcome by mutinous nature. After the intervening lines laying a curse on Tamburlaine, the Turk returns to metaphor with three terms martial in implication ("dart", "pierce", "passage") and the phrase "sencelesse cold" (vividly descriptive of a corpse) used as a metaphor for death. In this way the poet forcefully characterizes the hero's third foe, Bajazeth, a stronger character in all respects than Mycetes. Through this and other speeches of the Turks, Marlowe effectively poisons the atmosphere. The violence and despair of Bajazeth and his wife reflect on the hero (and are mirrored to some extent in his speech), so that Tamburlaine is less than he was at the same time as Bajazeth is more than Mycetes or Cosroe. However, one should note that the most poisonously infectious speeches of Bajazeth and Zabina as well as the most debased actions and speeches of Tamburlaine occur after Act IV, scene i, at which time the hero's degeneration begins to move faster than it has before. There are other examples of characterization with the aid of imagery which might be cited here; certainly, the sweetness of Zenocrate is partly a product of the images in her speech. However, Marlowe's most potent uses of metaphoric language in this dramatic function have already been illustra-

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ted. Another facet of the use of imagery in characterization must be examined; this is the effect of characterization on structure. The structure of the play is episodic, of course; the episodes portray the rise in empiry of Tamburlaine and its counterpart — the degeneration of his personality. However, although the growth in his strength progresses in a straight line, as it were, the degeneration of his personality does not. Marlowe manipulates the emotions of his audience with the aid of imagery in order to prevent them from condemning his hero too soon and, when he has finally shown the conqueror's utter degradation in the murder of the Virgins of Damascus, to draw them back again into the Scythian Shepherd's fold. The "Faire is too foule an Epithite for thee" soliloquy is one of the most effective means employed to recapture the audience's sympathy as the play draws towards its end, but before that Marlowe has manipulated the audience's emotions in several scenes so as to create reluctance on the audience's part to condemn his hero; one of the most important is that in which Agidas is condemned and dies. The scene opens with Agidas attempting vainly to dissuade Zenocrate from loving her captor. Overheard by the general, Agidas is left alone momentarily and prophesies his condemnation in these words: Betraide by fortune and suspitious love, Threatned with frowning wrath and jealousie, Surpriz'd with feare of hideous revenge, I stand agast: but most astonied To see his choller shut in secrete thoughtes, And wrapt in silence of his angry soule Upon his browes was pourtraid ugly death, And in his eies the furie of his hart, That shine as Comets, menacing revenge, And casts a pale complexion on his cheeks. (III.ii.1051-60) Through the influence of the verbals at the beginning of each of the first three lines the abstract nouns are personified or, at least, to a certain extent removed from their close connection with Tamburlaine. The verbals also affect the metaphors which follow, bringing a portentous note to the passage although the metaphors themselves are rather innocuous. An additional effect is achieved by placing these verbals at the head of parallel clauses, thus imparting some suggestion of action to the rather static opening of Agidas' soliloquy. The simile ending this portion of the speech contrasts with that which Zenocrate has earlier used to picture her Lord: As looks the sun through Nilus flowing stream, Or when the morning holds him in her armes, So lookes my Lordly love, faire Tamburlaine: (IILii. 1032-34)

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Thus one is confronted with two quite different portraits of the Scythian within thirty lines of poetry, each fitting the personality of the speaker. The later passage might adversely affect the audience's response to the hero more were its force not offset by the foregoing defense of Tamburlaine by Zenocrate and one's judgment of Agidas as a hostile witness, to say the least. Moreover, the last part of the speech, though scarcely peaceful, turns the attention of the audience from human threat to the threat of natural phenomena: As when the Sea-man sees the Hyades Gather an armye of Cemerian clouds, (Auster and Aquilon with winged Steads All sweating, tilt about the watery heavens, With shivering speares enforcing thunderclaps, And from their shieldes strike flames of lightening) All fearefull foldes his sailes, and sounds the maine, Lifting his prayers to the heavens for aid, Against the terrour of the winds and waves. So fares Agydas for the late felt frownes That sent a tempest to my daunted thoughtes, And makes my soule devine her overthrow. (1061-72) The audience's judgment of Tamburlaine after hearing these words is likely to be uncertain; the poet apparently intends their feelings to be influenced by the tempestuousness of Agidas' feelings, and the mixture of figures and images which contributes to the "tempest" seems intended to prevent the audience from fixing on and contemplating any one impression. Furthermore, Tamburlaine's anger almost becomes a phenomenon of nature in this passage even as it almost became a separate personification in the preceding group of lines. A reasoned response to this scene in which Agidas prophesies the sentence of death would be to condemn Tamburlaine for passing a sentence scarcely commensurate with the offense. However, Marlowe uses a storm of words to evoke a tempest of mind so that the audience cannot reach a logical conclusion but instead tends to accept Tamburlaine's sentence as simply as Agidas does when he is presented with the dagger. Thè twenty-two lines and many images of this soliloquy influence one's response to both Tamburlaine and Agidas. The first ten lines by their forcefulness and directness reflect the determination of Tamburlaine; the final lines mirror the consternation and uncertainty of Agidas and lessen the opprobrium which might have been directed against Tamburlaine as a result of the preceding words and the action. Nor do the words and actions which follow negate the effect. The end begins with the reappearance of Techelles and Usumcasane who present a naked dagger to Agidas, who then voices his own sentence:

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I prophecied before and now I proove, The killing frownes of jealousie and love. He needed not with words confirme my feare, For words are vaine where working tooles present The naked action of my threatned end. It saies, Agydas, thou shalt surely die, And of extremities elect the least. More honor and lesse paine it may procure, To dy by this resolved hand of thine, Than stay the torments he and heaven have sworne. Then haste Agydas, and prevent the plagues: Which thy prolonged Fates may draw on thee: Go wander free from feare of Tyrants rage, Remooved from the Torments and the hell: Wherewith he may excruciate thy soule. And let Agidas by Agidas die. And with this stab slumber eternally. (1075-91) The three adjectives, "killing", "working", and "naked", obviously related to the dagger, are carefully arranged in order moving from direful to relatively innocuous, so that the audience is not aroused to condemnation of the hero, but rather to respect for Zenocrate's servant. The speech calls for underplaying because of its verbosity, and this adds to the total effect, which seems to be the provision of a relatively quiet, almost dignified resolution to the episode. Moreover, Marlowe counterbalances the forceful words; "plagues", for example, and "hell" arouse unpleasant emotions, but reaction to them is diffused by the less vigorous "prevent", "wander", and "Remooved". Finally, the metaphor "slumber" both emasculates the action as Agidas stabs himself and sheds a peaceful afterglow over the preceding words and actions. Thus Marlowe with a combination of figurative and non-figurative words avoids damaging his hero's character at this point in the play. If Tamburlaine or his men killed Agidas with their own hands or if Agidas had received the dagger and stabbed himself immediately after the words of lines 1051-60, the audience would more readily feel the action to be a revelation of the- brutality of Tamburlaine, but Marlowe introduces a tempestuous and amorphous extended simile immediately after these lines, the effect of which is to cloud the issue, and then in the final passage of the scene, he maintains a vagueness of tone by a judicious use of verbosity clearly demonstrated in the somewhat abstract and negative (in the context) words and the final metaphor which suggests peace and well-being. The audience's response to all three principals in this scene has been thus manipulated so that none is likely to be judged harshly.15 IS J. B. Steane sees Agidas' speech as a fault of overt statement engrained by convention in the playwright. But in the midst of his criticism of Marlowe's "fault",

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However, though he saves his hero in this scene, Marlowe does portray, partly through imagery, a gradual degeneration of Tamburlaine. First, however, he reinforces the early portrait. The poet has begun the play with a hero whose aspiration is as divine as his person; he sums up the glory of this intangible characteristic in a passage which complements Menaphon's description of Tamburlaine's beauty. In these lines the hero denies Cosroe's accusation of treachery by pointing out the inevitability of his aspiration and the beauty of its object: The thirst of raigne and sweetnes of a crown, That causde the eldest sonne of heavenly Ops, To thrust his doting father from his chaire, And place himselfe in the Emperiall heaven, Moov'd me to manage armes against thy state. What better president than mightie Jove? Nature that fram'd us of foure Elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspyring minds: Our soules, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous Architecture of the world: And measure every wandring plannets course, Still climing after knowledge infinite, And alwaies mooving as the restles Spheares, Wils us to weare our selves and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, That perfect blisse and sole felicitie, The sweet fruition of an earthly crowne.16 (II.vi.863-80) However effective the other metaphors in these lines are in inducing a mood and in interpreting and mirroring the character and actions of the hero, the outstanding image is that which begins and ends the passage: "thirst", "sweetnes", "ripest fruit", and "sweet fruition". The aspiration and goal of Tamburlaine are thus represented in earthly and human terms. Moreover, not only is the last line in keeping with the personality of the hero throughout the play, but it also elevates the earth by returning to the imagery with which the

Steane reveals the truth of my assertion; he says that Agidas' speech has effect as an involuntary tribute to the impressiveness of the hero and again reflects Marlowe's real interest. "But one is never within Agidas", he continues, "one never experiences his terrors but is merely told about them by him" (pp. 100-101). This is exactly the point. Marlowe has not yet begun to portray the hero's degeneration and does not insist that his audience feel Agidas' terror. 16 Steane says of the last lines of this speech that if "Marlowe is intentionally illustrating a blasphemy and a sin", as Battenhouse seems to think, "it is more likely that the line, coming as it does as the climax pf one of the fmest utterances in the play, is intended to challenge normal values and assert opposing ones" (p. 74).

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speech begins — with the difference of its being an earthly rather than heavenly crown that Tamburlaine seeks. He has begun by equating himself and Jove, the "Emperiall" heavens and an earthly "state". He has magnified man by asserting that his soul (or mind) can comprehend the universe and by comparing the movements of man's soul with those of the heavenly spheres. Outstandingly he has imaged aspiration and its goal in earthly terms. In effect, he says not only that he is a super-human, but also that the earth is worthy of him, and in these terms an earthly crown is beyond Jove's. 17 Few humans can resist - in fact if not in theory - a being who thus firmly asserts the equality, at the very least, of man and Jove, earth and heaven. However, the poet does not continue to call forth approval of Tamburlaine, nor is it only through the vituperation which the hero exchanges with Bajazeth that the poet degrades him, although Tamburlaine's language in the scenes with the Turk is more like Bajazeth's than his own when we first met him. Nevertheless, Bajazeth is not portrayed as a rival for the hero; never until after the Turk's death does Marlowe awaken sympathy for him. 18 On the other hand, the Sultan is portrayed in such a way that one feels some sympathy for him and a consequent loss of sympathy for the hero. The Sultan's opening words ring out almost gaily as he enters shouting: Awake ye men of Memphis, heare the clange Of Scythian trumpets, (IV.i.1372-73) Of course, the tone is not sustained, and the Sultan's enmity for the hero is quickly shown, as he denounces "The Rogue of Volga" (1375); nevertheless, it is apparent that this general is a different kind of foe than the hero has yet encountered. From his first words the Sultan displays a bent for hyperbole equal to the hero's although his hyperbole is in the vituperative tone common also to Bajazeth before his capture; this tone appears in the words with which the Sultan answers the Messenger who marvels at the "frowning looks of fiery Tamburlaine" (1384): Villain, I tell thee, were that Tamburlaine As monstrous as Gorgon, prince of Hell, The Souldane would not start a foot from him. (IV.i. 1388-90)

17 Mailowe poses his hero against Jove rather than God, so that the Christian audience can empathize with him without too much pricking of conscience. 18 After the death of the Turks, Zenocrate mourns for them in a scene which awakens sympathy for them as well as some trepidation for the hero's ultimate fate

(V.ii.2129-52).

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These words which suggest the resemblance of the hero to the prince of hell rather than the king of heaven are part of a scene in which nothing is done to counter the belittling and debasement of the hero. Tamburlaine is then indirectly belittled further as, for the first time, the might of his army, rather than his and his captains' personal bravery and strength, is emphasized,19 although some disparagement of his army's strength is also suggested. This effect is achieved through the messenger's report which gives a literal numbering of the troops and then employs imagery to evoke an emotional response: Five hundred thousand footmen threatning shot, Shaking their swords, their speares and yron bils, Environing their Standard round, that stood As bristle-pointed as a thorny wood. (IV.i. 1396-99) Despite the awe apparent in the words there is also at least a hint of disparagement in the imagery, for though one could scarcely deny the discomfort inherent in the bristly points of a "thorny wood", one would hardly fear them. Moreover, the Sultan's reply is in the same vein: Nay could their numbers countervail the stars Or ever drisling drops of Aprill showers, Or withered leaves that Autume shaketh downe: Yet would the Souldane by his conquering power, So scatter and consume them in his rage, That not a man should live to rue their fall. (IV.i. 1402-07) The comparison in the first three lines suggests an immense, if not infinite, number, but on the other hand, the second terms of the comparison are innocuous: "Aprill showers" and "withered leaves" obviously so, and less obviously, perhaps, "stars" too, for Marlowe customarily chooses comets and meteors to image destruction; stars in the context of this play are images of beauty or, as here, infinite multitude. Thus, these images depreciate the power of Tamburlaine's army even while they suggest its large number. Furthermore, the rather dynamic verbs and verbals in lines 1405-06,"conquering", "scatter", and "consume", provide an effective contrast to the relative forcelessness of the images in the comparison and suggest that the Scythian shepherd will at last meet an opponent more nearly his equal. What is more, disparagement and hyperbolic denunciation of the hero continue unabated throughout the scene. Moreover, disgust with the hero's cruelty is awakened when the messenger explains the meaning of Tamburlaine's scarlet colors; when these appear, he says, "Then must his kindled 19

Cf. Fieler, pp. 69-70.

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wrath bee quencht with blood" (IV.i.1428). 20 The image is doubly revolting because it recalls Tamburlaine's own words about the "thirst of Raign".21 The effect of this scene is weakened only slightly by the imagery in Tamburlaine's speeches in the next. In this scene the hero alternates between brutality and glory as he sometimes appears as the shepherd and sometimes as the man reflected in the scarlet and black of his symbolic colors. The brutal Tamburlaine appears when he makes Bajazeth his footstool; then the poetic shepherd momentarily reappears in lines 1477-84 before being absorbed once more in the conqueror in Tamburlaine's speech: Smile Stars that raign'd at my nativity: And dim the brightnesse of their neighbor Lamps, Disdaine to borrow light of Cynthia, For I the chiefest Lamp of all the earth, First rising in the East with milde aspect, But fixed now in the Meridian line, Will send up fire to your turning Spheares, And cause the Sun to borrowe light of you, My sword stroke fire from his coat of Steele, Even in Bythinia, when I took this Turke: As when a fiery exhalation Wrapt in the bowels of a freezing cloude, Fighting for passage, makes the Welkin cracke, And casts a flash of lightning to the earth. (IV.ii. 1477-90) Tamburlaine's preoccupation with the earth is apparent in his metaphors. "Lamps" are equated with stars often in his speech; "neighbor", which seems somewhat homely in the context, is redeemed by its connection with "Lamps", which are, no doubt, the ornate affairs of the great London houses. 22 Tamburlaine's exaltation of man and the earth are most apparent in the extended metaphor, "For I . . . of you", as the hero indentifies himself

20 It is also reminiscent of Cosroe's condemnation: "That fiery thirster after Soveraingtie: / . . . burne him in the fury of that flame, / That none can quence but blood and Empirie" (II.vi.842-44). 21 J. B. Steane disagrees with me about the Sultan's role in the portrayal of Tamburlaine's deterioration; he says, "The Soldan (IV, i) does the opposition little credit since his indignation is so impotent and arises so largely out of sheer envy. The scorn with which he stamps Tamburlaine as a 'pesant ignorant' only intensifies admiration for the man who without advantage of birth has achieved so much" (p. 65). However, the playwright makes no overt attempt to counter the opprobrious remarks of the Sultan and the enfeebling words of the messenger. I believe that the failure to counter the tone of this scene is purposeful and that the scene is effective as one of the steps in the progressive degradation of the hero. 22 Cf. Marion Bodwell Smith, Marlowe's Imagery and the Marlowe Canon (Philadelphia, 1940), p. 45.

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with a Ptolemaic sun which exists for the earth's sake. The simile in the last lines also identifies Tamburlaine with heavenly powers; these lines, as well as the statement preceding them, begin to turn one's thoughts from the poet to the general. As the speech continues, Tamburlaine reveals an ineptitude almost like Mycetes', as he says: But ere I martch to wealthy Persea, Or leave Damascus and th'Egyptian fields, As was the fame of Clymenes brain-sicke sonne, That almost brent the Axeltree of heaven, So shall our swords, our lances and our shot Fill all the aire with fiery meteors. Then when the Sky shal waxe as red as blood, It shall be said, I made it red my selfe, To make me think of nought but blood and war. (1491-99) Although the hero intends to emphasize that his force is capable of matching the destruction caused by Phaethon, the poet achieves disenchantment by identifying him with the "braine-sicke" son of Apollo. Moreover, the last lines reveal a brutality which matches that imputed to the hero by his foes. The poet continues to portray the hero in just this see-saw fashion until the almost fatal — to the hero as hero, that is — execution of the Virgins of Damascus. What is more, his alternating calls on the audience's antipathy and sympathy do not cease with the speech (discussed above) which counterbalances that action. Nevertheless, from that point on (V.ii.1971), the hero does not vacillate so wildly. He is patently a less superior creature than he had been, but he is, nevertheless, the hero, and Marlowe finally enlists the audience's sympathy for his hero when a messenger telling Zenocrate of the approach of her father and the Arabian king uses imagery which identifies Tamburlaine with Aeneas: Madam, your father and th'Arabian king, The first affecter of your excellence, Comes now as Turnus gainst Eneas did, Armed with lance into the Egyptian fields, Ready for battaile gainst my Lord the King. (V.ii.2160-64) An Elizabethan audience is, of course, usually partial to the Trojans, the mythical founders of Britain, so that the audience's sympathy for the hero is awakened, though not with a subsequent lessening of sympathy for the Arabian and the Sultan, for Turnus is not an unattractive figure in The Aeneid. Although Arabia dies, the Sultan and the hero are finally united by their love for Zenocrate, and it is on this note that the play ends; Tamburlaine hangs up his weapons (after reminding us again of his resemblance to

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Jove), 23 "takes truce with al the world", and is again the hero, though certainly one much changed. The hero and the change in him, his foes and their increasing worthiness, an atmosphere appropriate to the hero as he changes, all of these have been made manifest to the audience more clearly and more forcibly through the imagery the poet employs; for example, the changed atmosphere is revealed by a comparison of the tone of Menaphon's speech, in which the images are of beauty and nobility, and the tone of Bajazeth's, in which the imagery is of disease, darkness, and death, as well as by a comparison of Tamburlaine's first words about Zenocrate with those in the "Faire is too foule an Epithite for thee" speech, which reveals a hero changed from the speaker of immature extravagance to one who measures such things as sorrow and siege. It seems clear that the soul of this play is not the plot; Marlowe's principal concern is not the construction of victory upon victory. The soul of this play is the hero, and its implicit tragedy is not an action but the deterioration of the hero's character. Marlowe's hero gains materially; from a few "friends that help to weane my state", his armies become 'Three hundred thousand" horsemen and "Five hundred thousand footmen". From a shepherd's hut he has gone on to become Emperor of half the earth. But his character does not thereby increase in depth; what he gains materially is offset by a spiritual loss. Manifestly, this tragic loss is intended by the playwright, for Zenocrate in her mourning soliloquy for the Turks (V.ii.2129-52) states the end of power — death or degradation; both are portrayed in Bajazeth and Zabina, and the latter is clear in Tamburlaine himself. The play is a kind of tragedy, though unconventional in plot. The unconventionality of the plot leads to "ambivalent themes" according to Douglas Cole, who points out that Tamburlaine is never seen to kill anyone so that "Marlowe . . . avoids the possibility of Tamburlaine's figure being tarnished by direct, observed engagement in personal slaughter". He notes that corpses litter the stage at the play's end, but that Zenocrate loves Tamburlaine still, and her father the Soldan respects him almost as much as do his faithful soldiers . . . . The ambivalence remains . . . the ambitious rebel, a figure consistently vilified in the academic tragedies and other orthodox sources, is here brought to a final exaltation — but his feet are planted in blood. 24

2

3 The relationship between Tamburlaine and Jove, in which the former progresses from being favored by Jove to being superior to him, at least in his own estimate, has been thoroughly explored by Emily B. Stanley in her discussion of Marlowe's use of classical myth ("The Use of Classical Mythology by the University Wits", Renaissance Papers [1956], pp. 38-39). 24 Cole, p. 102.

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The question of ambivalence is augmented by the problem which students of Marlowe face — that we read rather than see his plays, that we must guess at an audience's reaction. However, I believe that the combination of corpses and coarsened language reflect the central theme of the play: that achievement coarsens, that power corrupts. Despite the final apotheosis, Marlowe's hero is a far lesser man than he had been in the beginning.25

25 Irving Ribnei insists that Marlowe never displays change or development in his characterization of Tamburlaine in part I: "From his first appearance", he says, "Tamburlaine is destined to conquer the world . . ." (The Complete Plays of Christopher Marlowe [New York, 1963], p. xxvi). Certainly there is no "development" in the hero's character nor does his destiny change, but the contrast shown here in the speech of the hero adequately proves that the character changes.

3.

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In writing Tamburlaine, part II, Marlowe naturally had to deal with problems of plot, theme, and diction, but because the play was a sequel to an extremely successful play, the problems were somewaht different from those a playwright ordinarily has to solve. Marlowe had a hero, badly tarnished it is true; and he had the hero's death, the only remnant of historical fact left to him. He therefore had to invent a plot and develop a theme which would center on a hero not in the conventional state of goodness and nevertheless reach some sort of tragic climax.1 To solve his dilemma, he invented a plot in which the conflict is between personalities as well as over kingdoms; and he chose a theme which, although very closely related to that of the first part - which is concerned with the tragedy of man's limitations2 — demonstrates this tragedy more explicitly by revealing the incapacity of Tamburlaine's sons and thus the futility of Tamburlaine's desire that his spirit, too forceful to be contained any longer in his ailing body, be given in "equal portions into both [their] breasts" (V.iii.4561-64). The third problem, that of diction, he solved by resorting to the example of part I. Obviously, Marlowe could not simply repeat the imagery of the beginning of the first part, for his brutalized hero could not breathe convincingly in such an attenuated atmosphere as that created by the early imagery. He could, however, employ those images used several times in the first part which had by their repetition accumulated a flavor of good or evil. By making slight changes in the images and by associating them with different personages, Marlowe was able to employ that flavor to achieve certain specific aims, chief of which are to affect the audience's emotional response to certain characters, to dignify the episode of Theridamas' love for 1 For an interpretation of the dramatic structure of the two Tamburlaine plays which differs somewhat from that sketched briefly herein but which has points of resemblance, see G. I. Duthie, "The Dramatic Structure of Marlowe's 'Tamburlaine the Great' parts I and II", English Studies, vol. I, new series (1948), pp. 101-126. 2 Fieler asserts in his discussion of the first part: "Marlowe.. . wrought out of the Scythian's career a vision of the glorious in man's spirit and the tragedy of his limitations" (p. 20).

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Olympia so that this minor episode provides a subplot, and to rehabilitate his hero at the end of the play. This play proceeds in a somewhat obverse fashion from I Tamburlaine. From the play's beginning until the last scene of the last act, Marlowe portrays a hero growing steadily more brutal and less strong. He arranges even glorifying figures of speech so that Tamburlaine's strength seems lessened; it is the device he used with damning effectiveness in part I on Mycetes and, to a limited extent, on Bajazeth and the hero himself. For example, in the scene in which the Sultan damned the Scythian, the messenger had said that the forces of Tamburlaine "stood / As bristle-pointed as a thorny wood". In II Tamburlaine a messenger again belittles with an invidious comparison, as he says: Here at Alepo with an hoste of men Lies Tamburlaine, this king of Persea: In number more than are the quyvering leaves Of Idas forrest, where your highnesse hounds, With open crie pursues the wounded Stag: (III.v.3505-9) This comparison is reminiscent of Mycetes' words in which he spoke of the men wounded by cannon shot who "Stand staggering like a quivering Aspen leafe". Here the "quyvering leaves" imply that although Tamburlaine's forces now far outnumber those he had commanded earlier, each man is more like Mycetes than Theridamas; moreover, the hero himself becomes a "wounded stag" pursued by hounds, so that he, as well as his men, is depreciated by the imagery. Other images used to weaken the conqueror's strength occur in the speech of Orcanes, who is portrayed rather sympathetically. 3 Orcanes says of Tamburlaine: Now, he that cals himself the scourge of Jove, The Emperour of the world, and earthly God, Shal end the warlike progresse he intends, And traveile hedlong to the lake of hell: Where legions of devils (knowing he must die Here in Natolia, by your highnesse hands) All brandishing their brands of quenchlesse fire, Stretching their monstrous pawes, grin with their teeth, And guard the gates to entertaine his soule. (III.v.3523-31)

3 Even though Orcanes defeats the Christian army, he does it only after they have broken a truce; moreover, it is a Catholic rather than a Protestant champion whom he defeats.

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The metaphoric "progresse" and "entertaine" quite vividly recall Queen Elizabeth's progresses through her kingdom and the entertainments which were provided by the noblemen whose estates she visited or by the scholars in the colleges. This reminder of one of the pleasanter aspects of Elizabeth's reign4 draws some of the sting from "the scourge of Jove" and lessens somewhat the horrendousness of the devils; moreover, devils in this context are quite ironic, making Tamburlaine almost a figure of fun. Furthermore, "to entertaine his soule", ironically echoing the refrain in Tamburlaine's threnody for Zenocrate some six hundred lines earlier, reinforces the overt statement of the hero's mortality (3527). Lastly, the threat against him becomes more forceful as it borrows the phrase "quenchlesse fire" which has previously been used to denote Tamburlaine's ambition. By thus providing multiple elements to belittle his hero, Marlowe has assured some kind of depreciation of Tamburlaine; if the audience misses the implication of one thrust or jibe, it will surely recognize those of another. The disparagement of the hero is accomplished by other contrivances as well. Orcanes says somewhat earlier in the play: Our'battaile then in martiall maner pitcht, According to our ancient use, shall beare The figure of the semi-circled Moone: Whose homes shall sprinkle through the tainted air The poisoned braines of this proud Scythian. (III.i.3174-78) The abasement of the hero achieved by this speech results not only from the use of his hyperbolic strain by an enemy but also from the epithet "poisoned" which is intensified by the preceding "tainted" as well as by the tension evoked by the lines, which keeps the audience's mind hovering between army and moon. However, the degradation of the hero does not depend solely on the depreciation of his and his army's strength or the imprecations levelled at him. It is also accomplished by a brutalization apparent in his own speech, as in the words with which he attempts to inspire his son: Hast thou beheld a peale of ordinance strike A ring of pikes, mingled with shot and horse, Whose shattered lims, being tost as high as heaven, Hang in the aire as thicke as sunny motes, And canst thou Coward stand in feare of death? (III.ii.3288-92)

4 Pleasant, that is, for the partaker or the looker-on if not always for the hosts, who sometimes impoverished themselves in providing the entertainment.

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His preoccupation with the phenomena of the heavens is still apparent, but they have been contaminated by his brutality. These comparisons are a horrible exaggeration of Bajazeth's " . . . roaring Cannons sever all thy joints, I Making thee mount as high as Eagles soare" (IT V.ii.2004-05). The change in the conqueror is also shown by the threat's being directed quite explicitly at the limbs of men and horses, whereas in part I, the Scythian's threats had usually been impersonal; there he threatened to fill the air with meteors, certainly more appropriate than limbs. The brutality evident in the hero's figurative language is, of course, also evident in his actions; using the captive kings and princes as horses is an extension of the barbarity with which he used Bajazeth as a footstool. These are direct means of pointing out his debasement; indirectly, the playwright diminishes his hero's stature (and builds his plot as well as the theme) by portraying Tamburlaine's sons as being wholly ineffectual. The three young men are first introduced by their father, who describes them in these words: Water and ayre being simbolisde in one Argue their want of courage and of wit, Their haire as white as milke and soft as Downe, Which should be like the quilles of Porcupines, As blacke as Jeat, and hard as Iron or steel,5 Bewraies they are too dainty for the wars. (I.iv.2592-97) These antitheses which contrast the sons with their father, who in his youth had been compared to Achilles, are part of a passage in which Tamburlaine degrades them in literal as well as figurative language. The words of the sons are never strong enough to overcome the characterization of which these comparisons are the focal point. Their speeches are always merely echoes of their father's (with the exception of those of the coward, Calyphas), and the images they use are always just a little awry. In delineating the young men, Marlowe uses the technique of repetition of images from part I, as in the scene in which Tamburlaine repeats the very vivid imagery which relates himself, lightning, and fire: For he shall weare the crowne of Persea, Whose head hath deepest scarres, whose breast most woundes, Which being wroth, sends lightning from his eies, And in the furrowes of his frowning browes, Harbors revenge, war, death and cruelty: (I.iv.2643-47)

5 But can one forget that Tamburlaine's hair was, in his youth, "amber" and "curies"? The contrast is a further reflection of his brutalization.

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The effect is, on the one hand, to reflect the brutality of the conqueror and, on the other hand, to point up his desire to be reflected in his sons, who a moment before had been "water and ayre". In this attempt to awaken in his sons the same fervor for war that he feels, the conqueror continues: For in a field whose superficies Is covered with a liquid purple veile, And sprinkled with the braines of slaughtered men, My royal chaire of state shall be advanc'd: And he that means to place himself therein Must armed wade up to the chin in blood. (2648-53)

The rather horrible picture provokes their mother to ask Tamburlaine to desist, but her sons reject her intercession and answer: Cel. No madam, these are speeches fit for us, For if his chaire were in a sea of blood, I would prepare a ship and saile to it, Ere I would loose the tytle of a king. Amy. And I would strive to swim through pooles of blood, Or make a bridge of murthered Carcases, Whose arches should be fram'd with bones of Turks, Ere I would loose the tytle of a king. (2657-64)

The inability of Tamburlaine's sons to match their father is apparent in the diminution of his images in their answers. They reject, as it were, his "armed [wading]... in blood" in favor of sailing or making a bridge in a "sea" or "pooles" of blood. "Pooles", moreover, limits what is limitless in Tamburlaine's words.6 But as the scene continues, Tamburlaine accepts what is offered although he tries again to make his sons like himself as he suggests that they might stretch their "conquering armes from east to west" (2666); of course, the image here is less dynamic as well as more limited than the image in the first part in which Tamburlaine had told Zenocrate that he intended to measure his empire "By East and west, as Phoebus doth his course" (I.ii.235-36). Marlowe uses other metaphors in the speech of Amyras to strengthen the contrast between the hero and his sons, as in the following speech: Now in their glories7 shine the golden crownes Of these proud Turks, much like so many suns 6 Cf. the lines from part I in which the hero says, ". . . when the Sky shal waxe as red as blood, / It shall be said, I made it red my selfe, / To make me think of nought but blood and war" (IV.ii. 1497-99). ^ In Marlowe's time "glory" was the name of the halo given a saint in a painting, so the result is to further glorify the hero's enemies. (First OED citation, 1646, however.)

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That halfe dismay the majesty of heaven: Now brother, follow we our fathers sword, That flies with fury swifter than our thoughts, And cuts down armies with his conquering swings. (IV.i.3674-79)

The use of the sun image, usually associated with Tamburlaine, to represent his enemy is an example of the ineptitude of Tamburlaine's sons, for it glorifies his enemies, although Amyras no doubt intends to enhance his father's prestige as the victor over "so many suns". Nevertheless, Amyras would have been wiser to select an image not so closely identified with his father. Furthermore, the comparison in lines 3677-78 shows that Amyras himself recognizes the impossibility of matching his father. By such means as these Marlowe successfully diminishes the stature of his hero and his sons. He portrays a barbarian whose strength is no longer "as the strength of ten", whose army has lost much of its power, and whose sons can scarcely approach their father's magnificence. The plot and the theme of the play have thus been partially established. Their further development depends very heavily on several scenes whose effect largely results from the reminiscent quality of the imagery used. The imagery in some of these scenes intensifies their importance so that they form or almost form subplots;8 in others it clarifies or emphasizes the relationship between the characters. In one of these scenes, especially, in which Callapine, son of Bajazeth, seduces Almeda, soldier of Tamburlaine, from his duty, the effect results from what might almost be called the reincarnation in Callapine of the Scythian shepherd as he was at the beginning of part I. Other episodes which gain their effect because they parallel episodes in which Tamburlaine stars are the wooing and the death of Olympia. Still other scenes in which the reminiscent quality, though not quite so important, at least contributes to the effect desired are those in which Zenocrate dies and is mourned, very important scenes in that they introduce the concept that Tamburlaine too might be mortal, a concept hitherto lacking despite the threats against the hero; and the extremely important last episode of the play, in which Marlowe in one hundred-forty lines again apotheosizes his hero. In the last, it is not so much the images as the tone which is repeated, for in dying, Tamburlaine regains that surging, upbeat tone which is so marked throughout the first part. 9 8 Helen Gardner expresses a similar idea when she says, "It cannot be claimed that the second part of Tamburlaine is a great play, but it can be claimed that it is better than it is commonly supposed to be, and that it shows in some degree the Shakespearian method of plotting, in which episodes and sub-plots are linked to the main plot by idea, rather than the primitive structure of Parti, or Dr. Faustus" ("The second part of 'Tamburlaine the Great' ", MLR, XXXVII [1942], p. 19). 9 This tone is remarked on by Emily B. Stanley, who states: "Finally, in a play

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The first of these reminiscent scenes (I.iii), in which Callapine persuades Almeda to permit him to escape, introduces Bajazeth's son, whose actions and personality are of the utmost importance to the play. Callapine, whose escape provides the impetus for the attacks on Tamburlaine, is portrayed in both figurative and literal language contrasting with that used of and by Tamburlaine's sons and Callapine's own father, but comparing with that of the hero as he has been. Callapine is presented in attractive colors from his first entrance, in a way making one feel almost completely in sympathy with him. Callapine induces Almeda to turn traitor to Tamburlaine in words which are gentler than those with which Tamburlaine recruited Theridamas, but which are almost as prideful and as filled with grandiose visions. Callapine is, of course, a prisoner, as Tamburlaine was not, and his opening words reflect both his plight and his pride: Sweet Almeda, pity the ruthfull plight Of Callapine, the sonne of Bajazeth, Born to be Monarch of the Western world: Yet here detain'd by cruell Tamburlaine. (2492-95)

Whereas his father Bajazeth ranted, raved, and cursed the hero in base terms and horrible images, Callapine denounces Tamburlaine in a relatively dignified, restrained fashion. His attitude is clear from the contrasting adjectives, "Sweet", "ruthfull", and "cruell", but he does not offend Tamburlaine's soldier or taint his own personality by denouncing Tamburlaine in gross imagery. Marlowe is at this moment obviously concerned with portraying Callapine as a nobler figure than Bajazeth; therefore, Callapine's continuing speech leaves behind the gross implications of captivity and moves on into such a flight of fancy as the conqueror himself has been wont to take, beginning with an image reminiscent of the hero, though less striking than those usually employed by or about him: Ah were I now but halfe so eloquent To paint in woords, what lie perfourme in deeds,10 (2500-01)

[/ Tamburlaine] that is otherwise apparently episodic in structure, the dynamic progression of these classical allusions joins forces with other aspects of the play - such as the use of Zenocrate's increasing acceptance of Tamburlaine, the progressively drastic military methods of Tamburlaine, and the increasing strength of his foes - to achieve an upward surging dramatic impact; this structural framework is appropriate in form to the tone of this drama of conflict" (p. 32). » Cf. the description of Tamburlaine's "lofty browes" which "do figure death"

{IT II.L475).

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The atmosphere is then further lightened with some word-play on "running", but this humorous sally is only a momentary digression, and Callapine continues by painting in very persuasive words a picture which not only repeats the hero's promises of gold and crowns but which also emulates his geographic sweep. Next the captive introduces a sensually persuasive note which draws on imagery previously Tamburlaine's: The Grecian virgins shall attend on thee, Skilful in musicke and in amorous laies: As faire as was Pigmalions Ivory gyrle, Or lovely Io metamorphosed. And when thou goest, a golden Canapie Enchac'd with pretious stones, which shine as bright As that faire vail that covers all the world: When Phoebus leaping from his Hemi-Spheare, Discendeth downward to th'Antipodes. (2527-43) 1 1

The words are persuasive, for, after all, they sound like those of Almeda's general himself. Then, after thus depicting such heights of sensual delight as Galatea, golden canopies, and the stars and sun can suggest, Callapine "paints in words" the harbor where his men await him: Betwixt the hollow hanging of a hill And crooked bending of a craggy rock,

(2548-49)12

Thus, after his fanciful flight, Callapine brings the scene back to a more realistic plane and to its close. The music of Callapine's words, in which Marlowe has used those devices of sound echoes and polysyllabic line endings which create the rather distinctive tone in Tamburlaine's speeches, as well as the imagery which so closely resembles that of the Tamburlaine who courted and won both Theridamas and Zenocrate, contributes to achieving the playwright's purpose. Callapine is swiftly characterized in this episode, and the impression created lingers, despite his subsequent condemnation by Tamburlaine. Because Callapine's language, while reminiscent of Tamburlaine's, is less grandiose, the Turk's son is a lesser creature than the hero and rightfully so; he is not intended to supplant the hero but to provide a contrast to Tambur-

11 Cf. "Thinke you I way this treasure more than you [Zenocrate]? / Not all thé Gold in India's welthy armes . . . " (IT I.ii.280-81). 12 Note that the progressively lighter vowel sounds in the alliterative "hollow", "hanging", and "hill" and the somewhat harsh "crooked" and "craggy" reflect the scene in sound.

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aine's sons and a finer opponent for Tamburlaine than Bajazeth had been. \lthough the language is repetitious, Marlowe's slight changes keep it fresh without causing it to lose the connotations it has gathered through its association with the hero. Despite thus increasing the stature of Tamburlaine's enemies and portraying the hero's sons as inadequate, to say the least, and despite debasing the hero himself in various ways, Marlowe nevertheless, in several scenes, portrays Tamburlaine in ways which arouse the audience's sympathy for him. The most impressive of these scenes are those in which Zenocrate dies (Il.iii) and is mourned (IILii). The scenes are doubly important, for they introduce the idea of Tamburlaine's mortality and also establish through a measure of repetition that he has not completely lost his poet's imagination. The first of these scenes bursts open with Tamburlaine's threnody for his Queen, 13 which begins with imagery reminiscent of that frequently used in the first part: Blacke is the beauty of the brightest day, The golden balle of heavens eternal fire, That danc'd with glorie on the silver waves: Now wants the fewell that enflamde his beames And all with faintnesse and for foule disgrace, He bindes his temples with a frowning cloude, Ready to darken earth with endlesse night: Zenocrate that gave him light and life, Whose eies shot fire from their Ivory bowers, And tempered every soule with lively heat, Now by the malice of the angry Skies, Whose jealousie admits no second Mate, Drawes in the comfort of her latest breath All dasled with the hellish mists of death. (Il.iii.2969-82) Zenocrate is, of course, the wanting "fewell" as is made clear in the words "whose eies shot fire"; with these words she becomes the sun. Nevertheless, the first half of the threnody, by means of the personifications and the metaphors of human activities, is linked to man and the earth. From here on,however, until the almost anticlimactic last "paragraph", the lyric is on a more heavenly plane: Now walk the angels on the walles of heaven, As Centinels to warne th'immortall soules, To entertaine devine Zenocrate. Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaslesse lamps That gently look'd upon this loathsome earth, Shine downwards now no more, but deck the heavens 13

Despite its being declaimed before Zenocrate's death, the lyric is clearly an elegy.

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To entertaine divine Zenocrate. The christall springs whose taste illuminates Refined eies with an eternall sight, Like tried silver runs through Paradice To entertaine divine Zenocrate. The Cherubins and holy Seraphins That sing and play before the king of kings, Use all their voices and their instruments To entertaine divine Zenocrate. And in this sweet and currious harmony, The God that tunes this musicke to our soules: Holds out his hand in highest majesty To entertaine divine Zenocrate. Then let some holy trance convay my thoughts Up to the pallace of th'imperiall heaven: That this my life may be as short to me As are the daies of sweet Zenocrate: (2983-3005)

Although the invocation of God might be considered the climax in the succession of paragraphs, it is not; for other mortals it might be, but not for Tamburlaine; the lyric ends on earth. The threnody is followed by a few lines on a lower level rhetorically, then by a short speech in which Zenocrate euphemistically insists on her mortality, which is followed by another speech in which Tamburlaine again uses hyperbole, but in which he too refers to death euphemistically. Zenocrate's reply speaks ambiguously of the "base earth" which may "shroud" Tamburlaine's majesty. The scene ends with another speech in Tamburlaine's hyperbolic vein: Now are those Spheares where Cupid usde to sit, Wounding the world with woonder and with love, Sadly supplied with pale and ghastly death: Whose darts do pierce the Center of my soule. Her sacred beauty hath enchaunted heaven, And had she liv'd before the siege of Troy, Hellen, whose beauty sommond Greece to armes, And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos, Had not bene nam'd in Homers Iliads; Her name had bene in every line he wrote: Or had those wanton Poets, for whose byrth Olde Rome was proud, but gasde a while on her, Nor Lesbia, nor Corrinna had bene nam'd, Zenocrate had bene the argument Of every Epigram or Eligie. (3049-63)

The images in the first lines (except for "Spheares") are in the martial vein usual to Tamburlaine by now, but the last are more reminiscent of the poet

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he had earlier shown himself to be. His vacillation between moods, represented by the difference in imagery, prepares one for the frenzy he shows immediately, as he threatens heaven (3064-84). But he is restrained by his generals and then moves on to express his grief in a more reasonable manner. Throughout this play we see this kind of alternation between heaven and earth, megalomania and aspiration, 14 for thus Marlowe depicts a Tamburlaine whose aspiration is to achieve at last his rightful place in heave n — a place not just a little higher than the angels'. Nevertheless, although Tamburlaine voices his contempt for Jove and he and his captains threaten heaven and the gods, they always return to their primary concern, the earth, and what is to be conquered here. Between the scene in which Zenocrate dies and that in which the town is burned in mourning for her, one scene intervenes in which Marlowe uses a metaphor which links the other two together. In this episode Trebisond tells how many troops he has brought to battle against Tamburlaine and alludes to the fiery Tamburlaine of the preceding scene and the fiery town of the following as he says: [Their] courages are kindled with the flames The cursed Scythian sets on all their townes, And vow to burne the villaines cruell heart. (Ill.i.3165-67) The image is also familiar from the first play. The next scene, the mourning episode, occurs against a backdrop of flame painted in the hero's words: So, burne the turrets of this cursed towne, Flame to the highest region of the aire: And kindle heaps of exhalations, That being fiery meteors, may presage, Death and destruction to th'inhabitants. Over my Zenith hang a blazing star, That may endure till heaven be dissolv'd, Fed with the fresh supply of earthly dregs, Threatning a death and famine to this land, Flieng Dragons, lightning, fearfull thunderclaps, Sindge these fair plaines, and make them seeme as black As is the Island where the Furies maske Compast with Lethe, Styx and Phlegeton, Because my deare Zenocrate is dead. (III.ii.3191-3204)

M The two words are quite distinct in meaning; megalomania, as the suffix indicates, is a manifestation of insanity, whereas aspiration suggests an inordinate but not mad ambition.

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The "heaps of exhalations" are not to become or to be like "fiery meteors", as in part I, but are such meteors, in the words of the arch-aspirer. The extravagance of his megalomania is the background for the contemptuous relegation of ordinary humans to the status of "dregs", which feed the fire and flame symbolizing the hero. Finally, the "black" of the last lines changes the color of the scene from the red of flames, of Tamburlaine's aspiration, and of his second-day colors to the black of ashes, of mourning, and of his most threatening symbolic color. Throughout this scene Tamburlaine is portrayed as a frantic man, and even as he gradually turns back to war, his main occupation, he is reluctant to forget the images of meteoric and mythical destruction, which he combines in a final peroration before returning to his sons' instruction in war. Marlowe's object throughout this play is to portray the grandiosity, amounting at times to megalomania, of the hero's ambition. The battles in which he takes part are not aimed at conquest but at repelling the rebellious forces of Callapine. The play focuses not on the conflict between Tamburlaine and his earthly foes and his conquest of them but on the conflict between the hero and his sons and his wish to conquer heaven. Tamburlaine aspires to battle against and defeat the gods, and by reminding his audience through imagery of the glorious aspirer of the first part, Marlowe reminds us that Tamburlaine has always achieved his desires and almost convinces us that he can again. But Tamburlaine's real opponent is death, and Marlowe introduces this opponent obliquely in these scenes, for that is the way Tamburlaine sees it. Moreover, Marlowe intends to resurrect his hero and must, therefore, remind his audience of the Tamburlaine that was. These two scenes, then, and the imagery so important a part of them have several purposes: they are intended to convince the audience of both the brutality and the poetry of the hero, they reveal his changed aspiration, and they introduce his real foe, death. The imagery used in these scenes also provides a foundation for the subplot of the courtship of Olympia and Theridamas and Olympia's death. These episodes parallel Tamburlaine's wooing and losing of Zenocrate, and the parallel is strengthened by Marlowe's repetitious use of imagery. As is fitting, the subsidiary love affair does not reach the heights of the principal, and the language is but a shade of that of Tamburlaine and Zenocrate. Nevertheless, by drawing on imagery used in the principal love affair, the poet has given the incident more importance than it would otherwise have and has thus raised it to the standing of a subplot. 15 15 Steane sees Olympia's principal function as being to reflect Tamburlaine's virtues (pp. 68-69), a conclusion easily justified; however, the reason his conclusion differs from mine is in the immediate object of his study; his concern is the structure, mine the imagery. In a sense, he views this play as an extension of the first, almost as acts six

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The subplot begins with the death of Olympia's husband, an incident which parallels the death of Arabia in part I. The somber mood changes, however, when Theridamas and Techelles enter after Olympia has stabbed her son. They commend her for acting "like a souldiers wife" (3449) and offer to bring her to Tamburlaine, who will match her "with a viceroy or a king" (3452). Her reluctance to accept the offer matches Zenocrate's when the latter first meets Tamburlaine, and Olympia is challenged by Theridamas in a speech whose hyperbole is reminiscent of Tamburlaine's but whose images are more like those with which Agidas had threatened Zenocrate if she wed Tamburlaine (IT IH.ii. 1025-31) than is appropriate for a lover, for although the speech begins with an evocation of majesty, it soon becomes unfittingly violent. Theridamas says: But Lady goe with us to Tamburlaine, And thou shalt see a man greater than Mahomet, In whose high lookes is much more majesty Than from the Concave superficies Of Joves vast pallace the imperiall Orbe, Unto the shining bower where Cynthia sits, Like lovely Thetis in a Christall robe: That treadeth Fortune underneath his feete, And makes the mighty God of armes his slave: On whom death and the fatall sisters waite, With naked swords and scarlet liveries: Before whom (mounted on a Lions backe) Rhamnusia beares a helmet ful of blood, And strowes the way with braines of slaughtered men: By whose proud side the ugly furies run, Harkening when he shall bid them plague the world. Over whose Zenith cloth'd in windy aire, And Eagles wings join'd to her feathered breast, Fame hovereth, sounding of her golden Trumpe: That to the adverse poles of that straight line, Which measureth the glorious frame of heaven.16 The name of mightie Tamburlaine is spread: (III.iv.3456-77) The speech is appropriate to the speaker, for Theridamas has always been a bluff, unsubtle creature, filled with awe at Tamburlaine's deeds. Despite Theridamas' diminution of heaven and exaltation of Tamburlaine, Olympia asks again to be permitted to die with her lord, to be let " . . . cast her bodie in the burning flame, / That feeds upon her sonnes and husbands flesh" (3482-83). To this Techelles, a more subtle personality than through ten of a ten-act play, whereas I approach it as a distinct entity, though undeniably a sequel. (Of course, he is not alone in viewing it as acts six-ten.) 16 Cf. IT II.vi.872-74.

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Theridamas, replies in words which expand on hers and replace her fire with the eternal fire of the stars in metaphoric language similar to that Tamburlaine has been accustomed to use: Madam, sooner shall fire consume us both, Than scortch a face so beautiful as this, In frame of which, Nature hath shewed more skill, Than when she gave eternall Chaos forme, Drawing from it the shining Lamps of heaven. (3484-88) Although the parallel between the two courtships depends on the superlative terms of both Theridamas' and Techelles' speeches, in this scene it is more specifically Techelles' words which impart to Olympia a beauty comparable to Zenocrate's. Thus the characterization of Theridamas is maintained. After this the subplot is in abeyance through several scenes until it reappears in episodes paralleling those of Zenocrate's death and the mourning for her. Olympia's death scene begins with a lamentation which has echoes of Theridamas' lament (II.iii.3089-91) after Zenocrate's death. When Theridamas enters, however, the mood changes, for he has become more poetic (in his leader's strain) through his love. His words suggest a likeness between Zenocrate and Olympia: Wei met Olympia, I sought thee in my tent But when I saw the place obscure and darke, Which with thy beauty thou wast woont to light, Enrag'd, I ran about the fields for thee, (3895-98) Marlowe has here combined two facets of Tamburlaine's character in his presentation of Theridamas. Theridamas uses words reminiscent of the opening of Tamburlaine's threnody for Zenocrate and an image often associated with Zenocrate by Tamburlaine,17 and then he portrays himself as having been enraged as Tamburlaine has been. Later in the scene, when all his pleas have failed, he also displays the tyranny associated with Tamburlaine in this play. However, before he reaches that point, he continues pleading, using compelling images reminiscent of Tamburlaine's hyperbole in part I: Olympia, pitie him, in whom thy looks Have greater operation and more force Than Cynthias in the watery wildernes, For with thy view my joyes are at the full, And eb againe, as thou departst from me. (3909-13) 17

Cf. line 3897 with 7 7 V.ii. 1930-31.

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Olympia's reply includes another fairly common metaphor which leads to one less ordinary: Ah, pity me my Lord, and draw your sword, Making a passage for my troubled soule, Which beates against this prison to get out,

(3914-16) The image of a caged bird rather than of a prisoner o f war seems to appear in the last line of the excerpt, and this image lessens the martial implications o f the speech. By such means as the martial image, however, the playwright throughout differentiates Olympia from Zenocrate, for the former is never reluctant to use images with martial overtones where they will be impressive. As the scene continues, Theridamas attempts persuasion in visions o f pomp and majesty, which have worked for his leader and for Callapine, as he answers her: Thou shalt be stately Queene of faire Argier, And cloth'd in costly cloath of massy gold, Upon the marble turrets of my Court Sit like to Venus in her chaire of state, Commanding all thy princely eie desires, And I will cast o f f arms and sit with thee, Spending my life in sweet discourse of love.

(3920-26) Theridamas' offer to "cast o f f armes" is traitorous in the light o f his previous fanatic devotion to Tamburlaine; thus Marlowe reinforces the impression that Tamburlaine at this time has lost the intense loyalty his men have had for him. But even this almost traitorous declaration fails to persuade Olympia, and Theridamas becomes the agent o f her death. He then utters an elegy which, though on a lower rhetorical level and much shorter, echoes that of Tamburlaine for Zenocrate: Now Hell is fairer than Elisian, A greater Lamp than that bright eie of heaven, From whence the starres doo borrow all their light, Wanders about the black circumference, And now the damned soules are free from paine, For every Fury gazeth on her lookes: Infernall Dis is courting of my Love, Inventing maskes and stately showes for her, Opening the doores of his rich treasurie T o entertain this Queene of chastitie, Whose body shall be tomb'd with all the pompe The treasure of my kingdome may affoord.

(3968-79)

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This speech is far from parody, but it is an imitation of Tamburlaine's, although Marlowe keeps it on a much less exalted plane. 18 Here, as ever, Marlowe is in control; his words, whether figurative or not, are not simply poetic ebullience,19 but are chosen to achieve a purpose. He has raised this minor incident to importance through paralleling it with the early love affair and has thus provided the audience some relief from the tension aroused by the conflict. While carefully retaining the characteristics of Theridamas through slight changes in images as well as a less prodigious command of figures of speech, Marlowe has created an obvious parallel through the language, just as he has done in the Almeda-Callapine scene. One last instance of the efficacy of repeating imagery whose tone has been established occurs in the final apotheosis of Tamburlaine at the end of the play (granting, of course, that the effect depends on much more than just repetition). Although Marlowe does not produce a conventional tragedy in which the hero recognizes his fault as he suffers for his actions, the poet does follow convention by elevating his hero before his death, so that the audience is not presented with the anomaly of seeing a bad man get his just deserts. In the last one hundred-forty lines of the play (V.iii.4506-646) there is scarcely a reminder of the degenerate Tamburlaine. Moreover, the hero's last words deny that death has defeated him and, instead, welcome death as a kind of pagan assumption and canonization. Before he is canonized, however, Tamburlaine must be resurrected. The preparation begins with a lament in which his generals recall his glory and enjoin heaven to "Muffle your beauties with eternall clowdes" (V.iii.4398), but it gets fully in stride as Tamburlaine himself prepares to die. In the scene there is a glance or two at the "pamper'd Jades", but Marlowe carefully draws the sting of these references to the captive kings with such words as those Tambulaine addresses to Amyras: Sit up my boy, and with those silken raines, Bridle the steeled stomackes of those Jades. (4595-96)

"Silken" removes almost all the unattractive quality of the command, and "steeled" transfers obloquy to the "Jades"; the contrast between the two 18 For example, the paradox in Theridamas' first words is negligible when compared with Tamburlaine's "Blacke is the beauty of the brightest day" (II.iii.2969). Cf. also line 3969 with "The golden ball", etc.; line 3970 with 2972; 3971 with 2974; 3972-74 with 2983-85; 3974-77 with 2995-97, especially the last. 19 Marlowe has, in fact, been almost subtle. He has not forced his audience to change their feelings rapidly as he so often does in I Tamburlaine, but having firmly established two personalities, he almost, one might say, permits them their will. This subplot is a relief; that is, it is much more than the "breathing space" applauded above. One can almost relax as Theridamas and Olympia do what they must.

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words makes the hero seem a righteous conqueror. Marlowe does not, of course, by this or any other imagery, try to remake his hero into the glorious young man of the beginning of the first part, yet he does awaken awe, respect, and even sympathy as he portrays his hero in this scene. The apotheosis of the hero gets well under way as Tamburlaine, having once more routed Callapine, returns to the stage and speaks: Thus are the villaines, cowards fled for feare, Like Summers vapours, vanisht by the Sun, (4508-09) There is little suggestion of Tamburlaine's tyrannous self in these words, nor any suggestion of the scourge, and any remembrance there might be of these unpleasant Tamburlaines is overbalanced by the simplicity inherent in the image of a recurrent phenomenon of nature. As the hero continues in his resurrected vein, he accepts his impending death, asserting that its purpose is t'invest me in a higher throane, As much too high for this disdainfull earth. (4514-15) But Tamburlaine never stays long in rarified climes; immediately he calls for a map and retraces his conquests before he begins his own threnody, which proceeds in paragraphs comparable to those he used when declaiming on the forthcoming death of Zenocrate — the refrains "To entertaine divine Zenocrate" and "And shal I die, and this unconquered" respectively marking the paragraphs. His elegy begins with imagery reminding the. audience of the West Indies whose glories were constantly being set before the eyes of Elizabethans; by its tone it reminds one as well of some of Tamburlaine's earlier speeches: Looke here my boies, see what a world of ground Lies westward from the midst of Cancers line, Loe here my sonnes, are all the golden Mines, Inestimable drugs and precious stones, More worth than Asia, and the world beside, (4538-46) The poet next exploits two images (pearls and lamp-stars) associated with Zenocrate: And from th'Antartique Pole, Eastward behold As much more land, which never was descried, Wherein are rockes of Pearle, that shine as bright As all the Lamps that beautifie the Sky. (4547-50)

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His threnody ends in words personifying death and denying its victory over his aspiration, by contrasting the words "forbids" and "commaund", as he says, Here lovely boies, what death forbids my life, That let your lives commaund in spight of death. (4552-53)

Thus Tamburlaine ends the elegy on a positive note which contrasts with that of his sons' who reply in words which reflect their deficiencies:20 Amy. Alas my Lord, how should our bleeding harts Wounded and broken with your Highnesse griefe, Retaine a thought of joy, or sparke of life? Your soul gives essence to our wretched subjects, Whose matter is incorporoat in your flesh. Cel. Your paines do pierce our soules, no hope survives, For by your life we entertaine our lives. (4554-60)

The metaphoric verbs and verbals are scarcely commensurate with Tamburlaine's "deepest scarres" (2644), and the final metaphor is, of course, an echo of the elegy for Zenocrate, which has already been brought back to the audience's mind by the formal resemblance between the two threnodies. The contrast between the father's words and the sons' makes more poignant the next speech (4561-73) in which Tamburlaine bequeathes his undaunted spirit to his dauntable sons. The contrast between father and sons, which underlines the theme of the play, is even more striking as Amyras mounts the "royall chariot of estate" and reveals in metaphor his confused, sorrowful, and inadequate spirit: With what a flinty bosome should I joy The breath of life, and burthen of my soule, If not resolv'd into resolved paines, My bodies mortified lineaments Should exercise the motions of my heart, Pierc'd with the joy of any dignity? O father, if the unrelenting eares Of death and hell be shut against my praiers, And that the spightfull influence of heaven Denie my soule fruition of her joy, How should I step or stir my hatefull feete, Against the inward powers of my heart, Leading a life that onely strives to die, And plead in vaine, unpleasing soverainty. (4578-91) 20 The contrast between their words and their father's is like the contrast between the words of Zenocrate and Olympia; they are indeed Zenocrate's sons.

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The contrast is sharpened by Amyras' use of "fruition" which is, of course, an image forever associated with Tamburlaine. The poet ingeniously inserts it here, thereby re-enforcing the disparity between the conqueror and his son and reminding the audience of the glorious, youthful Tamburlaine. The earlier Tamburlaine also reappears in the ensuing dialogue in which Usumcasane says, " . , . our hearts all drown'd in teares of blood . . . " (4607). This image is reminiscent of those employed to curse the hero with visions of fire, thirst, quenching, and blood. Now the images of thirst and violence are replaced by this one which arouses compassion. The dialogue in which this image occurs is followed by a soliloquy, Tamburlaine's last words, which prophesy the end of his dynasty and remind us of the Tamburlaine who loved Zenocrate; they then carry the fable of Phaethon, often alluded to, to its end. Here Phaethon's disaster is emphasized as a warning: Now eies, injoy your latest benefite, And when my soule hath vertue of your sight, Pierce through the coffin and the sheet of gold, And glut your longings with a heaven of joy. So, raigne my sonne, scourge and controlle those slaves Guiding thy chariot with thy Fathers hand. As precious is the charge thou undertak'st As that which Clymenes brainsicke sonne did guide, When wandring Phoebes Ivory cheeks were scortcht And all the earth like Aetna breathing fire: Be warn'd by him, then learne with awfull eie To sway a throane as dangerous as his: For if thy body thrive not full of thoughtes As pure and fiery as Phyteus beames, The nature of these proud rebelling Jades Will take occasion by the slenderest haire, And draw thee peecemeale like Hyppolitus, Through rocks more steep and sharp than Caspian cliftes. The nature of thy chariot wil not beare A guide of baser temper than my selfe, More than heavens coach, the pride of Phaeton (4617-37) In the metaphor of the penultimate line the image of tempering (introduced in the elegy for Zenocrate) is brought to fruit. The speech is also a reassertion of Tamburlaine's concern with the earth as well as the heavens, for the hero alludes to the story of Hyppelitus, a human, as well as the story of the demi-god, Phaethon. The hero also reveals a modesty not seen before as he fails to imply a resemblance between himself and Apollo or Theseus,21 even 21 Cf. with his last speech in I Tamburlaine, in which he likens Zenocrate to Juno almost, it seems, to be himself recognized as Jove.

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though as the end approaches, he makes one last reference to himself as the "Scourge of God [who] must die" (4641). The epitaph which follows this speech and ends the play combines in words and tone the disparate elements from which the hero was forged. Amyras eulogizes his father: Meet heaven & earth, & here let al things end, For earth hath spent the pride of all her fruit, And heaven consum'd his choisest living fire. Let earth and heaven his timelesse death deplore, For both their woorths wil equall him no more. (4642-46) The metaphors representing the hero ("the pride of all [earth's] fruit" and heaven's "choisest living fire") are epitomes of him and his ambition, but the connotations of sin in "pride" and destruction in "fire" are nullified by the other words in the phrases. These words sum up the hero and put a period to his life, for they accept the fact of death as a defeat, whereas his own words had denied death the victory. They are thus expressive of the character of Amyras, and they satisfy a popular demand for a moral ending. Nevertheless, the imagery keeps the words from being merely sententious. That Marlowe uses imagery purposefully is clear from this examination of some of the figurative language in the two Tamburlaine plays. The playwright creates distinctive human beings whose minds and spirits are effectively revealed and whose persons are enhanced or diminished by imagery. The excerpts from I Tamburlaine demonstrate the technique by which Marlowe affects the emotions to gain his end; his characters are belittled, aggrandized, brutalized, and apotheosized by means of the emotional response awakened by figurative speech. The excerpts from part II reveal another kind of achievement as well; that is, the efficacy of repetition of imagery. Of course, the effect is again to manipulate the audience's reaction to the dramatis personae and by so doing to reinforce the plot and the theme, the object of dramatic poets from Aeschylus to Anouilh.

4.

THE JEW OF MALTA

The Jew of Malta differs from the Tamburlaine plays in several ways, not the least of which are the sources of the imagery and the things - objects, ideas, people — that imagery is employed to transform. The tone of the play is much less hyperbolic and violently emotional than Tamburlaine is, not only for these reasons but also because it lacks the profusion of imagery used in the earlier plays. In The Jew of Malta imagery is employed to provide lfeit-motivs whose themes are the earth's mineral and vegetable wealth as well as tribute-paying and trade, all of which are integral to the play.1 What is more, the figures of speech do not exalt the hero and his ambition as those in Tamburlaine frequently did. Marlowe neither dignifies the hero's desire by cloaking it in figurative language nor exalts it by transforming it with over-reaching terms. He does portray the Jew's desire for riches throughout the play, from the first speech about "Infinite riches in a little roome" (1.72), through the words with which Barabas receives the bags of gold from Abigail: "Oh my girle, / My gold, my fortune, my felicity" (H.688-89), to the philosophy expressed in his last exchange with the Governor: Bar. Then now are all things as my wish wud have 'em, There wanteth nothing but the Governors pelfe, And see he brings it: Now, Governor, the summe. Enter

Governour.

Gov. With free consent a hundred thousand pounds. Bar. Pounds saist thou, Governor? wel since it is no more I'le satisfie my selfe with that; (V.2299-2305) 1

F. P. Wilson says, "If, as seems likely, The Jew of Malta was his next play after Tamburlaine, the change in his verse is truly remarkable. Decorum is a great matter, so his century believed; but the decorum of style which Marlowe observes is something more vital than a doctrine of the schools consciously and externally applied: his decorum is not rhetorical, but poetical, the choice of a great dramatic poet" (p. 57). (Of course, Wilson does not believe that Marlowe wrote the last two acts!)

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In such passages as these, the Jew's lust for gold is portrayed as baldly as possible. (However, one notes a relative lack of enthusiasm in the last words, for love of revenge has superseded love of gold by then.) Though it is plain that he never intended his hero to be anything but a villain, the poet in the beginning evokes some sympathy for Barabas.2 The playwright faced a dilemma similar to that he faced in Tamburlaine; Barabas cannot triumph, yet Marlowe himself seems sympathetic towards anyone who is an aspirer; Barabas is the protagonist. Moreover, a hero must be up, figuratively and literally, before he can fall. Therefore, although Barabas must ultimately fall, if only because he is a Jew, 3 Marlowe does engage the audience's sympathy for him in a small measure at least. Although imagery is used to achieve that end, its primary purpose in this play appears to be the furnishing of leit-motivs of a sort, which reflect the subject of the play and provide variations on the theme. The foundation for several such motifs is laid in the opening soliloquy, when Barabas' avidity for wealth is vividly displayed, as he longs to throw aside these "paltry silverlings" as "trash". As his soliloquy continues, the Jew speaks of his desire for "mettall of the purest mould", the riches which enable the Moor to "heape pearle like pibble-stones". Then, after rolling on his tongue the names of gems, Barabas sums up by asserting: "This is the ware wherein consists my wealth" (1.36-68). Thus Marlowe graphically demonstrates his hero's greed, whets the audience's appetite, and establishes a foundation for some of the imagery to be used. When, very shortly after the Jew's rhapsody over the earth's mineral wealth, the other Jews agree to contribute half their means to the tribute funds, Barabas turns on them and reviles them in images contrasting with the visions of his opening soliloquy. He says, Oh earth-mettall'd villains, and no Hebrews born! And will you basely thus submit yourselves (1.311-312)

2 This is one of the apparently discordant notes which cause some readers to doubt that the whole play is Marlowe's. In his systematic analysis of the play's structure, David M. Bevington examines its discrepancies and proposes a quite lucid and reasonable explanation of them. They are the result, he says, of Marlowe's attempt to combine "secular material and moral structure" ( "The Jew of Malta", Marlowe, ed. Leech, p. 158, et passim). J. B. Steane also testifies to the unity of the play in his survey of it (pp. 173-201). 3 Anti-Semitism existed in England to some extent throughout Marlowe's lifetime; the Jews were subjects of distrust and hatred just as any man who deviated from orthodox Christianity was - witness the attacks on Marlowe as an atheist. It was not, of course, so rabid before Marlowe's death as in the years immediately after, when the accusation that Dr. Lopez, the Spanish Jew, had attempted to poison the Queen aroused a virulent hatred of the Jews.

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The double-meaning of "basely" (i.e., low, as they submit themselves, and non-precious, as iron is a base metal compared to gold) reinforces the foregoing epithet, in which "mettall'd" has also a double meaning (metal and mettle); "earth-mettaU'd" suggests that these compatriots of Barabas are a distasteful substitute for the "mettall of the purest mould" which Barabas seeks. Nor is it just the other Jews who are dross to Barabas, for he condemns the Governor and his council in related images: . . . having all, you can request no more; Unlesse your unrelenting flinty hearts Suppresse all pitty in your stony breasts, And now shall move you to bereave my life. '(1.373-76)

Obviously, flint and stone are products of the earth which Barabas does not value. Although the Governor is not prepared to go so far as to execute Barabas, he is like the Jews who believe Barabas to be like them; the ignorance of both Jews and the Governor moves Barabas to exclaim: See the simplicitie of these base slaves, Who for the villaines have no wit themselves, Thinke me to be a senselesse lumpe of clay That will with every water wash to dirt: No, Barabas is borne to better chance, And fram'd of finer mold then common men, (1.448-53)

With these words Barabas links himself to the "purest mould" to which he aspires in severe contrast to the "earth-mettall'd villaines" who are his fellows by religion. The imagery in these excerpts illustrates graphically the difference between Barabas' opinion of men and of things. The stone and flint and mud that Barabas finds in Malta ultimately affect him more than the gold he recovers and begins again to heap up, for it is the Governor's flinty heart that motivates the Jew's revenge; and plotting his vengeance supersedes counting his gold; furthermore, it may well be Barabas' desire to prove himself "fram'd of finer mold" that leads him to indulge in that "kingly kinde of trade" which proves his death. The same source (the earth and its mineral products) is enlisted to further the plot in the ironic dialogue which leads to the death of Don Lodowicke and Don Mathias. The following excerpt from this exchange illustrates the rather ominous playing with words in which Barabas indulges as he and Lodowicke bandy the words "Diamond" and "foile":

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Lod. Well Barabas, canst helpe me to a Diamond? Bar. Oh, Sir, your father had my Diamonds. Yet I have one left that will serve your turne: — I meane my daughter: Lod. What sparkle does it give without a foile? Bar. The Diamond that I talke of, ne'r was foild: But when he touches it, it will be foild: — Lord Lodowicke, it sparkles bright and faire. Lod. Is it square or pointed? pray let me know. 4 (11.809-20) The responsibility for the foreboding tone of this dialogue lies primarily in the contrast between Barabas' asides (indicated by dashes) and the words addressed to Lodowicke. However, the ominous weight is increased as one hears Barabas almost jest on such serious matters as diamonds and his daughter, for he thus reveals the extent of his desire for revenge and the bitterness of his feelings. Barabas' desire for revenge is frequently expressed in the irony implicit in metaphors like these. Another such bandying of meanings is based on the vegetable wealth of the earth; it first appears in the opening scenes of the play, when Barabas condemns the Christians by saying: For I can see no fruits in all their faith, But malice, falshood, and excessive pride, (1.154-55) Later, Don Mathias borrows from the same general source for his praise of Abigail, as he innocently describes her to Lodowicke: A faire young maid scarce 14 yeares of age, The sweetest flower in Citherea's field, Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitfull earth, And strangely metamorphis'd Nun. (1.621-24) "Fruitfull" seems certainly a play on words, but its spirit is not that of Barabas' and Lodowicke's dialogue on the same subject. In the latter, which follows the rather unpleasant "Diamond" dialogue, Barabas complains because his house was seized for a convent. Lodowicke replies: "No doubt your soule shall reape the fruit of it." To-this Barabas answers in the cynical tone of the preceding discussion: I, but my Lord, the harvest is farre off: And yet I know the prayers of those Nuns

4

The scene goes on and on in this vein.

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And holy Fryers Are wondrous And seeing they are not idle, but still doing, 'Tis likely they in time may reape some fruit, I meane in fulnesse of perfection. (H.841-48) The "fruit" to be reaped has not yet budded in Barabas' brain, but the words are a kind of prophecy of the murder of the friars and nuns. Obviously, Barabas' suggestive metaphor is exceedingly ominous in contrast to the relative innocence of Don Mathias'. In addition to these images based on the mineral and vegetable products of the earth and providing leit-motivs appropriate to the play, a third motif appears in the metaphoric language based on tribute-paying and trade. These two sources, which Marlowe blends on occasion, are also closely related to the play's subject. However, the imagery from the first of these sources is used even before the audience has been given an inkling of the Turk's demands, when Barabas asks if one merchant has seen another of his "Argosies", for the ship could not have come from Egypt, he says, But at the entry there into the sea, Where Nilus payes his tribute to the maine, Thou needs must saile by Alexandria. (1.111-13) The other factor in this motif, the merchant's trade, is the source of many metaphors, as when Abigail says, I doe not doubt by your divine precepts And mine owne industry, but to profit much. (1.575-76) Again, Bosco reproaches the Knights of Malta by asking, Will Knights of Malta be in league with Turkes, And buy it basely too for summes of gold? (11.733-34) Implied in this, at least, is the idea of tribute-paying. Imagery from trade appears in the Governor's words as well; he asserts: Wee'll send thee bullets wrapt in smoake and fire: Claime tribute where thou wilt, we are resolv'd, Honor is bought with bloud and not with gold. (II.7 59-61) And Ithamore also uses the imagery, when he greets Barabas' plot to dispose of the two young men with these words:

THE JEW OF MALTA

Faith Master, I thinke by this You purchase both their lives;

67

(11.1130-31)

The images are blended again almost at the end of the play when Barabas, forgetting his own injunction that the Jews "come not to be Kings" (1.167), says to the Governor: why, is not this A kingly kinde of trade to purchase Townes By treachery, and sell 'em by deceit? (V.2329-31)5 This extended metaphor points up the similarities between the Governor's trade and the Jew's as its implications unfold. On the other hand, in the speech in which Abigail seeks readmission to the convent, a metaphor from the same source is limited in implication and effectiveness because of the other metaphors in the lines. In her explanation for seeking to return, Abigail says, Then were my thoughts so fraile & unconfirm'd And I was chain'd to follies of the world: But now experience, purchased with griefe, Has made me see the difference of things. My sinfull soule, alas, hath pac'd too long The fatall Labyrinth of misbeleefe, Farre from the Sonne that gives eternall life. (III. 1282-88) The passage as a whole seems to evolve in words and meaning: "chain'd" is used apparently to contrast with "fraile", and may well have suggested "Labyrinth", which, together with "pac'd" and "Sonne" suggests to some students of the classics the story of the Minotaur and Icarus. "Sonne" is, of course, the crux, for it means both the Son whom one vows to defend when receiving the sacrament of Confirmation and the sun which gives life to vegetables and man. Certainly, "purchased" is almost overwhelmed by the other figurative language, although it represents so much that is important in the play that it is not completely ineffective. The other images sustain the audience's sympathy for Abigail and also increase in some measure their antipathy for her father, who still treads the "Labyrinth of misbeleefe". The religious implications of "unconfirm'd" and "the Sonne that gives eternall life" are very impressive and increase sympathy for Abigail, who will now be confirmed in the faith. s The image of tribute-paying is not explicit here, but it certainly appears to be implied, because the tribute-paying for which the Maltese originally confiscated the Jew's wealth apparently had elements of the "kingly kinde of trade" Barabas mentions.

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Although the focus of the play is the cupidity of man, rather than the religious conflict between Jew and Christian, religious imagery appears not only in this speech but also on other occasions. In the lines quoted, it awakens sympathy for Abigail; by contrast in Act II it has been employed to arouse hatred for the Jew. He uses religious imagery in his first appearance after the opening scene of the second act, a scene in which one's feelings are enlisted for him. Later, however, he begins his machinations and becomes wholly a villain as he announces his confirmation in villainy in these words: We Jewes can fawne like Spaniels when we please; And when we grin we bite, yet are our lookes As innocent and harmlesse as a Lambes. (11.781-83)

The words presage tragedy, although the images are less than ominous. Nevertheless, they render Barabas' slyness horrible, for the lamb is a frequently used Christian symbol, representing both the Savior and His flock. Marlowe apparently intends the audience to believe that Barabas means to treat these Christians as Christ was treated. The effect is reinforced when Barabas says, a few lines later: "Now will I show my selfe to have more of the Serpent / Then the Dove" (797-98), using the conventional symbols for Satan and the Holy Ghost. 6 The protagonist's transformation into thorough-going villain through the use of figurative phrases based on Christian symbolism as well as his nonfigurative cursing of the "swine-eating Christians", follows closely on a scene of different import. In this scene which begins the second act, Marlowe almost engages our sympathy for his hero, 7 as Barabas, coming to receive his treasure from Abigail, laments: Thus like the sad presaging Raven that tolls The sicke mans passeport in her hollow beake, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings; Vex'd and tormented runnes poore Barabas 6

Marlowe's acquaintance with Christian symbols, of course, is due to his upbringing as well as his theological training at Cambridge. His contemporary audience may also be assumed to be familiar with these symbols, inasmuch as almost the whole population were regular church-goers. 7 Sympathy has also been evoked by the scenes with the other Jews in the first act, as Bevington notes, almost parenthetically, in his discussion of the play. As he examines the method of construction, Bevington points out that the three Jews appear as part of the "parade" of Barabas' partners and victims and he says that once they "have served the purpose of evoking pity for Barabas, they are permanently suppressed" (pp. 145-46).

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With fatall curses towards these Christians. The incertaine pleasures of swift-footed time Have tane their flight, and left me in despaire; And of my former riches rests no more But bare remembrance; like a souldiers skarre, That has no further comfort for his maime. (11.640-50)8 The melancholy of the opening simile is enhanced by the assonance and "s" alliteration in the first four lines, which here sounds more like a sigh than a hiss. The actual comparison of Barabas to the raven is obscured in the speech as a whole; the simile in the last lines makes us associate him with the sick man of line 641; what is emphasized here is the soldier's wound, rather than his scar.' The felt relationship, rather than the logical one, prevails here, so that one sees Barabas as a sick, maimed man. The "former riches" he mourns and the "fatall curses" for the Christians are almost nullified by the overall tone of the lines. This scene is followed by one in which Marlowe's hero rhapsodizes about wealth. He greets his returned gold with these words: Oh my girle, My gold, my fortune, my felicity; Strength to my soule, death to mine enemy; Welcome the first beginner of my blisse: Oh girle, oh gold, oh beauty, oh my blisse! (11.688-95)

The difference between reality and metaphor is attenuated in the Jew's ecstasy. It appears that "felicity", "first beginner", "beauty", and "blisse" are metaphors for gold either on a second or third level ("first beginner" would suggest Abigail on one level and gold on another), much as "strength" and "death" are immediately recognized as attributes of that metal in this context. Then, as the scene continues, the imagery becomes more conventionally lyrical, as Barabas exchanges the raven of the simile that opened the act for the lark and his gold for her young: Now Phoebus ope the eye-lids of the day And for the Raven wake the morning Larke, 8 M. C. Biadbiook compares this passage to that in Edward II in which Edwaid lays his head on the lap of the abbot (4.6.39ff., as she numbers it). She says that the "warm, naturalistic pity" of the latter may be compared with the feeling of this passage from The Jew of Malta ("The Jew of Malta and Edward IT', Marlowe, ed. Leech, p. 126). 9 This also harks back to his earlier lamentation, when, deprived of his fortune, he mourns to see "his souldiers slaine, himselfe disarm'd" (1.437).

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That I may hover with her in the Ayre, Singing ore these as she does ore her young. (11.701-04) Having regained his gold, the Jew is healed and his wounds are salved; he is ready for the new day and a new life. There are, no doubt, several reasons for the relatively sympathetic tone of this scene. One of these is that Marlowe intends Abigail (who shares the scene) to remain a sympathetic character throughout, so that her murder is a horrifying act. Another may be that Marlowe wishes to elevate his hero before his fall, to make him some whit a hero before he becomes overwhelmingly a villain. These excerpts illustrate the effectiveness of images closely related to the subject matter of the play as well as of using several images from the same source. Naturally, Marlowe does not always repeat imagery nor does he use only those images related to others; he sometimes quite effectively uses an image only once in a play. In the next quotation, Barabas voices an apparently auspicious image, which on consideration seems quite the contrary. He says, I have no charge, nor many children, But one sole Daughter, whom I hold as deare As Agamemnon did his Iphigen: (1.174-76) The effectiveness of this comparison proceeds from its ambiguity; obviously, the interpretation depends on how one views Agamemnon's sacrifice of his daughter. Furthermore, the words intimate what is to come; Barabas will shortly demonstrate that his adherence to his religious fellows is not as strong as was the Greek's, and Abigail will be a sacrifice to her father's thirst for revenge. Thus this image arouses suspense, as does the ironic dialogue between Don Lodowicke and Barabas. There are other metaphoric figures of speech in this play, but these illustrate the most important function of imagery; the furnishing, from the beginning of the play, of leit-motives which contrast with the crude or deadly humor of other metaphoric language and puns. In The Jew of Malta, Marlowe has again, of course, used figurative language for its emotional value, but in this play he does not attack the emotions of the audience so violently as in I Tamburlaine. Although there is a certain manipulation of the audience's emotions so that they will momentarily sympathize with Barabas, they are not wrenched as violently back and forth as in the tug-ofwar of I Tamburlaine. Among the other ends susceptible to his poetic means, Marlowe also creates an atmosphere as appropriate to Barabas as lyricism is to the young Tamburlaine. The coarse humor of some of the dialogue, the contrast between gold and dross, and the ambiguous allusions

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contribute to produce a play scarcely inspiring to anyone. However, the use of imagery may have inspired the poet, for it may well be that the contrast between the earth's riches and its base products so apparent in the first act prepared the way for his use of imagery in Doctor Faustus. In Faustus, the imagery's chief function seems to be to make vivid the contrast between what Faustus desires and what he gets.

5.

DOCTOR FAUSTUS

Obviously, Doctor Faustus is quite sparse in figurative language and not only because there are fewer lines than in the other plays. The reason is in the play itself, rather. There is no need, nor is it possible, as in Tamburlaine, to exalt this hero's goal, for Faustus stakes his soul for omnipotence and omniscience, and that bare fact is overwhelming.1 Whereas in Tamburlaine Marlowe creates a hero through his figures of speech and invests his hero's desire for an earthly crown with glory and in The Jew of Malta provides leit-motivs through figures of speech reflecting the concrete and sometimes flinty nature of earthly products, in Doctor Faustus he can hardly exalt or degrade imagistically the element by which man differs from the animals and approaches his Creator, that which the hero gambles and Satan seeks, that soul which has in this play the meaning that St. Thomas Aquinas saw in it.2

In this play Marlowe uses figures of speech to glorify, in a sense, the necromantic magic Faustus practices and the things he hopes to attain through his magic, while at the same time he degrades them. In the prologue, for example, Marlowe achieves the latter purpose in a few lines which sketch the contrast between desire and achievement, between the price paid and the goods received: Till swolne with cunning of a selfe conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And melting heavens conspirde his overthrow. For falling to a divelish exercise, And glutted more [B — now] with learnings golden gifts, He surffets upon cursed Negromancy, Nothing so sweet as magicke is to him (FA 20-26)3 1 Tamburlaine's god is Jove, who is seldom considered omnipotent in the sense that Faustus' God is. 2 That is, the soul as the intellectual, forming principle in man. 3 I ordinarily quote from the A text (1604) as edited by Greg, unless it differs significantly from the B text (1616), in which case I shall note the difference (as in

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The extended metaphor likening Faustus to Icarus emphasizes the disastrous end of Icarus' flight and casts a somber shade over the play from its inception. There is, however, a higher tone in this than in the other metaphors in this excerpt. The others are linked together by the words "falling to", 4 which refer back to the image of surfeit which has been obliquely introduced in "swolne", and forward to the explicit "surffets". That "swolne" brings up an image of the swollen belly caused by overindulgence may seen rather far-fetched, except that the preceding "riper", "fruitful" (not in B), and "sweete"(B - "sweetly") (FA 13,16,18) suggest this image. More obviously, "glutted" and "surffets" imply the unpleasantness attendant on gluttony. Having established this concept, Marlowe recurs to the imagery on several occasions. The soliloquy in which Faustus lists the things he hopes to achieve through necromancy begins with this question: "How am I glutted with conceit of this?" (FA 110). Again, after the show of the seven deadly sins, Faustus thanks Lucifer, his host, by saying, "O this feedes my soule" (FA 796) (B - "O how this sight doth delight my soule"). Another instance is when Faustus addresses Mephostophilis after their arrival in Rome: Sweete Mephosto, thou pleasest me Whilst I am here on earth: Let me be cloyd With all things that delight the heart of man. (FB 859-61)5 The imagery culminates in the penultimate scene (of the A text) in the dialogue between Faustus and the scholars. The first scholar, seeking a reasonable explanation of Faustus' sudden ill-health and recalling the feast in which they have so recently indulged, says, "tis but a surffet, never feare man". Faustus acknowledges the true nature of his sin as he answers, "A surfett of deadly sinne that hath damnd both body and soule" (FA 1397-99). Thus Marlowe inserts throughout the play the theme of sickness resulting from gluttony; in its first appearance in the prologue he ties it in with that other deadly sin, the overweening pride through which Icarus perished, and in its final appearance he relates the sickness of Faustus to the feast and the

line 24 above). Any quotations which appear in the latter text only will be marked " F B " instead of the usual "FA". 4 "Fall to" is, of course, a common invitation to begin eating, usually in a rather Falstaffian sense. s The last two quotations and another in which Faustus, speaking to himself, says, "The god thou servest is thine owne appetite" (FA 447) are from parts of the text judged by Greg to have been written by Marlowe's collaborator. Nevertheless, they are attuned to the other images, and if by a collaborator, they indicate his recognition of this motif.

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feeding of lust which are the last receipts of Faustus' bargain, which began in his pride. In order to make vividly perceptible the dreadful gap between what Faustus seeks and what he obtains, Marlowe has recourse to other images intended to aggrandize the hero's aims.6 Among these is the bad angel's exhortation to Faustus to be . . . on earth as Jove is in the skie, Lord and commaunder of these Elements. (FA 107-108)

In still other images, Faustus reflects on what he is already capable of and says that with his mastery of Aristotelian logic, he has . . . made the flowring pride of Wertenberge [B - Wittenberg] Swarme to my Problemes as the infernall spirits On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell, and, he adds, he Will be as cunning as Agrippa was Whose shadowes [B — shadow] made all Europe honor him. (FA 146-50)

In this imagery Faustus portrays his ambition as almost supernatural; he has rivaled the mythical musician, representing the emotional element of the soul; now he wishes to surpass the necromancer, representative of the soul's intellectual power. 7 In contrast to the gains which Faustus looks forward to are the rewards Valdes promises him:

6 In his essay, "The Comic Synthesis in Doctor Faustus", Robert Ornstein points out that as the disparity between Faustus' aspirations and achievements grows, he comes closer and closer to the clowns. Ornstein asserts: "In the latter half of the play, the mighty Faustus parodies his own high-vaulting thoughts and ambitions even as Wagner and the clown had parodied them earlier . . . . 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" (ELH: A Journal of English Literary History, XXII [1955], 170). Steane disagrees, for he thinks the comic scenes - or the middle of the play - "silly, unworthy s t u f f ' for the most part (pp. 143-46). However, Ornstein's comments seem more nearly attuned to the interpretation of the play which even Steane agrees with (pp. 132-34). ^ Of course, Faustus also speaks of material things, of pearls and gold, for example; but in the beginning the emphasis is on the power to command spirits and on the additional knowledge they might give him, rather than the orient pearls.

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Faustus, these bookes thy wit and our experience Shall make all nations to canonize us, As Indian Moores obey their Spanish Lords, So shall the subjects of every element Be alwaies serviceable to us three, Like Lyons shall they guard us when we please, Like Almaine Rutters with their horsemens staves, Or Lapland Gyants trotting by our sides, Sometimes like women, or unwedded maides, Shadowing more beautie in their ayrie browes Then in their [B - Then has the] white breasts of the queene of Love: For [B — From] Venice shall they dregge huge Argoces, And from America the golden fleece, That yearely stuffes old Philips treasury If learned Faustus will be resolute. ( F A 151-65)

The contrast between Faustus' and Valdes' words is almost an epitome of the tragedy. Valdes' boast is a prophecy that material power, flight, and grapes in January, not omniscience or omnipotence, will be what Faustus achieves. Cornelius, on the other hand, reveals some comprehension of Faustus' ambition when he says, Then doubt not (Faustus) but to be renowmd, And more frequented for this mystery, Then heretofore the Dolphian Oracle. ( F A 173-75)

But Mephostophilis, like Valdes, offers further material rewards as he promises to bring Faustus the "fairest curtezans": She whome thine eie shall like, thy heart shal have, Be she as chaste as was Penelope, As wise as Saba, or as beautiful As was bright Lucifer before his fall. (FA 600-605) The introduction of Lucifer's name where one would expect Helen's also points up the tragedy, for Lucifer staked his beauty as Faustus stakes his soul; the reward for Lucifer is ugliness, for Faustus it is the destruction of intellectual questioning by physical lust (exemplified in the Helen of Troy scene). 8 8 W.W. Greg remarks: "So far [up to 11. 600-605] Faustus has not left Wittenberg, and emphasis has been rather on the hollowness of his bargain in respect of any intellectual enlightenment than on the actual degradation of his character. As yet only his childish pleasure in the devil-dance and the pageant of the Sins hints at the depth of vulgar triviality into which he is doomed to descend" ("The Damnation of Faustus", Marlowe, ed. Leech, p. 100).

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Indeed, this appears to be the theme of the tragedy; Faustus not only receives less than he bargained for, but the less he receives, the further his stamina is inhibited, so that he cannot resist even a threat of pain long enough to repent. He turns to black magic that he might master it as he has mastered logic, medicine, law, and theology; once having summoned the devil, he has achieved the ultimate in necromancy. He should, then, brush aside this art as he has brushed aside the others; instead, he strikes a bargain, exchanging his soul for knowledge and power. He gets the power to perform feats of magic, to fly, to make fools of others, to satisfy the craving of a pregnant woman, but the only knowledge that Mephostophilis offers that Faustus does not already have or cannot achieve is knowledge that Faustus rejects. Mephostophilis tells him: Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one selfe place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is, must we ever be: (FA 5 6 6 - 6 8 )

To this Faustus answers: "Come, I thinke hell's a fable" (FA 572). Somewhat later, Mephostophilis asks the hero: Thinkst thou heaven is such a glorious thing? I tel thee tis not halfe so faire as thou, Or any man that breathes on earth. When Faustus asks how he can prove this, Mephostophilis answers: "It was made for man, therefore is man more excellent" (FA 631-36). Faustus then moves towards repentence but lacks the necessary courage to resist the devil's torture. Thus he rejects the only new ideas which have been made available to him. 9 9 Despite her proclivity to read Marlowe's biography in Doctor Faustus, Una Ellis-Fermor has written a perceptive study of the work in which she suggests what I have said here. She says, for example, in reference to Mephostophilis' statement that he, having seen the face of God, is "tormented with ten thousand hels / In being deprived of everlasting blisse", "These lines . . . have the ring of intense feeling that characterizes Marlowe's utterance when his deepest and most passionate experience is revealed. And the experience which these lines summarise is perhaps the greatest event in Marlowe's biography . . ." She continues: "The central idea of the play is an idea of loss." She further asserts that Marlowe has endowed Faustus, in his mind, that is, with qualities similar to those which Tamburlaine had had, such as pride of mind, and that he lets them "bring about his doom . . ." She then further suggests my interpretation of the tragedy by saying, "Underlying this, there is perhaps the further idea that is half revealed in the opening speech, the idea of the conflict between truth and delusion. Faustus abandons the search for truth because the road by which he is endeavouring to approach it is arduous and barren, letting himself sink into delusions which soothe and entertain him, but lead nowhere" {Christopher Marlowe [London, 1927], pp. 61, 62, 78-79).

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The dilemma and frustration of the tragic hero, made clear in the nonfigurative language, are, as has been demonstrated, rendered emotionally effective by the imagery of the play. The forebodingly impressive imagery of the prologue is matched by the finality of that in the epilogue, in which the chorus reads the Doctor's epitaph, which begins: Cut is the branch that might have growne ful straight, And burned is Apolloes Laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man: (FA 1509-11) The effect of these lines emanates from the tension evoked by the weaving together of the images of growth and destruction. Thus briefly the poet says that Faustus might have attained the heights of the Greeks; instead, by desiring omnipotence, he has twisted his body and destroyed his genius.10 The contrast between what he wanted and what he got and its effect on him is reflected in the imagery scantily but effectively employed in the epilogue and throughout the play.

10 Irving Ribner says, "Only when he came to recognize the frailty and limitation of humanity did tragedy become possible for Marlowe" (The Complete Plays of Christopher Marlowe [New York, 1963], p. xxv).

6.

EDWARD II

The significance of the theme of Doctor Faustus and the contrast between its spiritual maturity and the immaturity of Tamburlaine would seem to mark it as a fairly late play in the canon. Nevertheless, it probably antedated Edward II, a play which Marlowe seems to have written surely and confidently and with none of the indecision which marks Doctor Faustus.1 Among the many differences between Edward II and Marlowe's other plays, perhaps the most obvious is his abandonment of the aspiring hero. He may have selected English history as the subject for a play because of the example of other playwrights or because he felt he had exhausted the heroic-tragic field in the four plays already discussed. Whatever his reason for selecting chronicle, however, for him, as for Shakespeare in Richard II, the chronicle almost became real tragedy in the telling. What is more, Edward II also displays an improvement in Marlowe's dramatic technique. Certainly the play reveals a competence in construction Marlowe had not shown before, even though he is not yet the master of architectonics that Shakespeare was to become; the poet-playwright's technical improvement is further revealed in his much surer command of imagery. He has learned how many things images can do, and he has also learned to control his exuberance and use images sparingly.2

1 Professor Greg cogently and persuasively asserts in the introduction to his parallel text edition that indecision on the playwright's part is responsible for the chaotic state of the Doctor Faustus texts. 2 Steane believes that "The verse of Edward II.. . has no real distinction in the Shakespearean way of metaphor, concentration and imaginative imagery. It is thin, unsustained and virtually unpoetical. But it is often remarkably natural. Those parts of the play where this naturalness is achieved must have helped to free dramatic poetry from the too rigid pentameter and from poetic convention. In this respect they take a big stride in the Shakespearean direction. The remarkable thing is that this should be the achievement of the author of Tamburlaine. A fast-moving, unelaborated prosaic manner has evolved from a stately blank-verse measure almost as remote from colloquial speech (and as deliberately so) as the diction of Paradise Lost. This is less surprising when the corresponding revolutions in subject-matter and attitude are

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In I Tamburlaine Marlowe used imagery to assault the audience's emotions, to force them first to approve his hero, then to censure him, and at last to accept him as a hero again. In Edward II the poet uses imagery in a more reasonable manner. The change is not due simply to increased skill, however; it is also due to the different plot and theme. In Edward II the action is the soul of the play, and the characters are not only delineated through their actions but also in order that one may comprehend their actions. In I Tamburlaine it is the hero who is the soul of the play, not the plot, so that the figurative as well as the non-figurative language is employed to achieve an emotional response to him rather than a rational understanding of him. In Edward II Marlowe uses images to do some of the same things as in I Tamburlaine ', that is, to characterize and to create an appropriate atmosphere. However, since the theme of this play is quite different from that of the earlier play, the means to his end are different. In the chronicle play Edward is neither aspirer nor achiever, and his images, such as "kingly lion", ostensibly selected to reflect the majesty of his state, in reality emphasize his inadequacy. Furthermore, Mortimer, who could conceivably have been portrayed as the hero, is neither the hero nor a hero-villain. In the first third of the play, Mortimer's wrath is marked by a certain petulance which dilutes it; he is depicted not as a man seeking power for himself so much as one seeking to deny it to another. The damage to his pride, which culminates in the King's refusal to ransom his uncle, is the motivation for his threatening Edward. Then in the last part of the play, when Marlowe does portray Mortimer as an aspirant to power, the poet does not aggrandize the rebel; instead, he takes full advantage of the Elizabethan's ingrained loyalty to the monarch and reinforces this natural sympathy by the poetic devices at his command in order to provoke the audience's hatred for Mortimer and sympathy for Edward. At the very beginning the atmosphere of Edward II is almost salacious, but this flavor does not long remain, and after Gaveston's death, there is almost no suggestion of lasciviousness or perversion. The hero remains a weak king dependent on his companions, but his dependence is not depicted in the same sensual tone; now he is shown to be a weak soldier and ruler. The difference in Edward is reflected in a change in the ambiance achieved in part through imagery. The figurative language at the beginning of the play is, of course, devoted chiefly to depicting the personalities of the chief characters and, at the very beginning, to establishing a rather sybaritic atmosphere. Marlowe begins the considered. The changed style expresses the changed mind: a mind which seems to be expressing itself most creatively in the snapping backbiting noises of resentful pettiness" (pp. 212-13).

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play with Gaveston, who, enraptured by the news which has brought him back to London, says, What greater blisse can hap to Gaveston, Than live and be the favorit of a king? Sweete prince I come, these these thy amorous lines, Might have enforst me to have swum from France, And like Leander gaspt upon the sande, So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy armes. The sight of London to my exiled eyes, Is as Elizium to a new come soule, (4-11) In case the audience is in any doubt about what kind of "favorit" Gaveston is, the poet makes it abundantly clear in the adjective "amorous" and the simile which, if carried to its conclusion, compares the King to Hero. Moreover, the simile explicitly likens Gaveston to Leander not in the swim but on arrival at Hero's tower. (Anyone familiar with Marlowe's Hero and Leander is, of course, reminded not only of the rewards Leander receives from Hero when he arrives but also of Neptune's dalliance with him on his way.) In the second simile the classical allusions continue: London is for Gaveston Elyzium. The two similes awaken somewhat similar visions; the former suggests the keen pleasure of relaxation after activity, the latter the pleasure of passivity and luxuriousness. Neither especially awakens sympathy for Gaveston. Then, following a dialogue establishing another facet of Gaveston's personality (the politic manner in which he pursues power), the poet in another soliloquy displays Gaveston's appraisal of the King as a lover of voluptuous, perverted pleasure. In these richly textured lines he describes the manner in which he will please the "pliant king" (53): Like Sylvan Nimphes my pages shall be clad, My men like Satyres grazing on the lawnes, Shall with their Goate feete daunce an antick hay, Sometime a lovelie boye in Dians shape, With haire that gilds the water as it glides, Crownets of pearle about his naked armes, And in his sportfull hands an Olive tree, To hide those parts which men delight to see, Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard by, One like Actaeon peeping through the grove, Shall by the angrie goddesse be transformde, And running in the likenes of an Hart, By yelping hounds puld downe, and seeme to die, (58-70) Gaveston slips easily from the images of lines 58-60, which are not quite similes, into the realms of fantasy with words which carry the audience

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away from the bare stage into a somewhat perfervid atmosphere. At the end, however, the speaker abruptly pulls one back and seems to justify the nobles' opinion of him as he says, "Such things as these best please his majestie" (71). That the King's affection for Gaveston is unnatural is clear from his own words in the episode immediately following Gaveston's soliloquy, although Edward does not use words as immediately connotative of carnality as Gaveston's. He does, however, acknowledge his taste in these lines: Not Hilas was more mourned of Hercules, Then thou hast beene of me since thy exile. (144-45) Moreover, that his own appetites are more important than the good of England is clear in these words: I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight, And sooner shall the sea orewhelme my land, Then beare the ship that shall transport thee hence: (151-53) England's small size and the sea's power are never far from the thoughts of Englishmen, but Marlowe does not emphasize the danger to the state in the continuing dialogue. Somewhat later, Edward's love of Gaveston is reflected in the frenzy he feels at the thought of losing him, which leads to this exchange: Edw. And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou doost, lie come to thee, my love shall neare decline. Gave. Is all my hope turnd to this hell of greefe. Edw. Rend not my hart with thy too piercing words Thou from this land, I from my selfe am banisht. (410-14) Although "decline" is relatively abstract, the other more concrete metaphors portray quite vividly the anguish of the King at the loss of his minion. Nevertheless, one cannot deny that Edward's words are less perfervid than those of Gaveston, especially in the first scene, so that the atmosphere is less heated after Edward's entrance. On the other hand, a rather highly-charged sensual atmosphere results from Isabel's complaint after Edward and Gaveston have left her as Gaveston prepares to go into exile. She moans: Would when I left sweet France and was imbarkt, That charming Circes walking on the waves, Had chaungd my shape, or at the manage day The cup of Hymen had beene full of poyson, Or with those armes that twind about my neck,

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I had beene stifled, and not lived to see The king my lord thus to abandon me: Like frantick Juno will I fill the earth, With gastlie murmure of my sighes and cries, For never doted Jove on Ganimed So much as he on cursed Gaveston. (467-77)

The suggestiveness of the opening lines is capped by the evocation of Juno which brings Jove in his role of great lover to mind; naming Ganymede in the comparison at the end brings the complaint of this unsatisfied wife to a pointedly distasteful close. Nevertheless, although one can scarcely forget that it is Edward who arouses these imprecations, Marlowe again puts the suggestive imagery in the mouth of another rather than the King's, thus generalizing the distaste the audience may feel, rather than directing it specifically and pointedly at the King. Rarely is Edward alone the object of opprobium; almost always Marlowe directs one's antipathy at someone else as well as at the King when such condemnatory imagery is employed. 3 However, Marlowe does arouse dislike of Gaveston directly, as when Mortimer Junior says, While souldiers mutinie for want of paie, He weares a lords revenewe on his back, And Midas like he jets it in the court, With base outlandish cullions at his heeles, Whose proud fantastick liveries make such show, As if that Proteus god of shapes appearde. (703-08)

The imagery is particularly apt; the first simile expresses emotionally what Edward has said continually of Gaveston; the King does desire that all Gaveston touches be gold; moreover, Midas, like Gaveston, is known for his overweening pride; furthermore, Gaveston's delight in prodigal Protean changes, expressed in the final comparison, has been evident from the beginning of the play. The passage arouses one's antipathy; clearly the playwright does not wish us to love Gaveston. Marlowe does not expose his hero to such unmitigated condemnation as this, but he does not deny his faults. His intellectual weakness is revealed in the following speech in which Edward laments Gaveston's departure: My heart is as an anvill unto sorrow, Which beates upon it like the Cyclops hammers

3 The sensual imagery is used to awaken condemnation, of course. As King, Edward should be more concerned with the kingly lion than the "boye in Dians shape".

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And with the noise turnes up my giddie braine, And makes me frantick for my Gaveston: (609-12) Edward is shown to be extremely responsive to the emotional connotations of figurative language as he is carried away by his own imagery into a vision in which the murmur of his heartbeat becomes a reverberating rhythm. Nevertheless, Marlowe does not often in Edward's speeches use sexually suggestive images. One of the few employed is the following: Welcome to Tinmouth, welcome to thy friend. Thy absence made me droope, and pine away. For as the lovers of faire Danae, When she was lockt up in a brasen tower, Desirde her more, and waxt outragious So did it sure with me: (853-58) This, like the reference to "Hilas", is relatively restrained. The sybaritic atmosphere evoked by Gaveston's opening speeches has been almost dispelled, and it is Edward's lack of kingly strength, rather than his sinful appetites, which is emphasized. The implied similes in the following speech of Mortimer Senior are a case in point. The nobleman attempts to extenuate Edward's sins as he says, The mightiest kings have had their minions, Great Alexander lovde Ephestion, The conquering Hercules for Hilas wept, And for Patroclus sterne Achillis droopt: And not kings onelie, but the wisest men, The Romaine Tullie loved Octavius, Grave Socrates, wilde Alcibiades: Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible, And promiseth as much as we can wish, Freely enjoy that vaine, light-headed earle, For riper yeares will weane him from such toyes. (688-98) The audience is apparently expected to recognize the irony of the contrast between Edward and the great and wise men named; it is this contrast rather than the sensual implication which is most obvious. Furthermore, the younger Mortimer attacks Edward less for his sexual vagaries than for his actor-like attitudinizing reproduced in his soldiers, for his weak effeminacy, and for his puppet-like behavior, all of which contrast sharply with Mortimer's own ruggedness and bluntness. His scorn is directed at least as much against the King's entourage as against Edward himself. He says,

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When wert thou in the field with banner spred? But once, and then thy souldiers marcht like players, With garish robes, not armor, and thy selfe Bedaubd with golde, rode laughing at the rest Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where womens favors hung like labels downe. (984-89) Clearly, such a picture is not calculated to endear Edward to the audience. Nevertheless, the King, though far from heroic, still retains some attractive qualities, especially by contrast with his minion, who, as Lancaster says, is a Monster of men, That like the Greekish strumpet traind to armes And bloudie warres, so many valiant knights, (1182-84) In his characterization of Edward and of Gaveston, as can be seen, Marlowe depends quite heavily on imagery. One must concede that in the matter of love, licit or illicit, or of sex, natural or unnatural, it has, in the past, at least, been easier to speak metaphorically. Granted, then, that the best possible way to speak of Edward's love for Gaveston is with imagery, one must acknowledge that the images employed, the character of the speaker (where it has been already established), and the person on whom the imagery chiefly reflects must also be considered. Marlowe has used images to show Edward's affection for Gaveston, but he has used them so that, on the whole, his audience does not condemn his hero too thoroughly for redemption. Edward is not just a perverted lover and a weak soldier; he is also a king. The King's royal training is apparent in several of the images he uses. For example, he speaks to Mortimer and Lancaster as the recalcitrant nobles should be addressed when he says, The sworde shall plane the furrowes of thy browes, And hew these knees that now are growne so stiffe. (94-95) This Edward is not the man described by Gaveston, whose delight is "Musicke and poetrie" (54); he is the one whom Mortimer threatens: Come unckle, let us leave the brainsick king, And henceforth parle with our naked swords. (125-26) and who answers with a pun on Mortimer's metaphor: Brother displaie my ensignes in the field, lie bandie with the Barons and the Earles, And eyther die, or live with Gaveston.

(136-38)

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Marlowe's technique differs here from that employed in Tamburlaine, wherein he degrades Mycetes by turning warlike speeches into farce. Here Marlowe makes Edward appear more kingly than Gaveston has described him. After Gaveston's death, the theme of the play becomes much clearer. The conflict is more clearly defined as good versus evil, weakness versus strength; 4 the resolution of the conflict is, of course, in the young prince who comes to the throne both good and strong. With the execution of Gaveston, the King's evil passion, Edward is portrayed more plainly as a weak but not basically evil man; Mortimer becomes a villain destined to destroy the hero through his strength and singleness of purpose. The change is not too unexpected for belief; imagery reflecting unnatural or voluptuous love has been gradually disappearing, and now almost entirely disappears or receives an emphasis which changes its implications. For example, the image of Danae reappears, but the emphasis is on the bribery "That suffered Jove to passe in showers of golde / To Danae" (1576-77). The purpose of this simile is to encourage Levune to bribe the French lords so that they will not help Isabel, rather than to comment on a love affair. It is spoken by the younger Spencer, who according to Holinshed, replaced Gaveston as the King's favorite, but Marlowe ignores that suggestion almost wholly. Instead of images which reflect the hero's sexual weakness, Marlowe in the last half of the play uses images which portray his weakness as a king. There is, for example, the messenger's speech: The Barons up in armes bid me say That from your princely person you remoove This Spencer, as a putrifying branche, That deads the royall vine, whose golden leaves Empale your princelie head, your diadem, Whose brightnes such pernitious upstarts dim, (1465.67.70-74) The combination of simile and metaphor here is somewhat complex and the present-day reader's response to it may vary as the response of the Elizabethan audience probably did; to the urbanite the adjectives "royall" and "golden" may obscure the implications of the vegetable images, whereas to the rural dweller or suburbanite the image of the parasitic weakening of the vine would predominate. To Edward, the King, of course, the proffered 4 To those critics who complain that " 'there is no central feeling or theme' " in the play, Steane answers: ". . . the petty, undignified and humiliated are everywhere and this does make a distinctive tone or feeling in the play" (p. 230).

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ministrations of the tree-surgeons are more threatening than the parasite. The complexity of the imagery and the ambiguity of purpose are likely to awaken the audience's sympathy for the King, thus threatened on all sides. Moreover, the complexity and ambiguity of the imagery contribute to the tension felt throughout the scene from which this is excerpted, for Edward vacillates between mourner for Gaveston, seeker for assuagement in Spencer, and soldier-king, avenger of Gaveston's murder. Although the King as king quite obviously represents good in the play, for he is the rightful King beset by rebels, he is also clearly indecisive. His instability is manifest in his reproachful words to Leister, who holds him prisoner: The greefes of private men are soone allayde, But not of kings, the Forrest Deare being strucke Runnes to an herbe that closeth up the wounds, But when the imperiall Lions flesh is gorde, He rends and teares it with his wrathfull pawe, And highly scorning, that the lowly earth Should drinke his bloud, mounts up into the ayre: And so it fares with me, whose dauntlesse minde The ambitious Mortimer would seeke to curbe, And that unnaturall Queene false Isabell, That thus hath pent and mu'd me in a prison, For such outragious passions cloye my soule, As with the wings of rancor and disdaine, Full often am I sowring up to heaven, To plaine me to the gods against them both: (1994-2008) The metaphors "wings" and "sowring" reinforce the contrast between Edward and the lion who "mounts up into the ayre"; Edward is clearly not so strong as the king of beasts, for he mounts to complain, not to scorn. The imagery here contrasts forcibly with that in an earlier scene in which Edward contemplated fighting for Gaveston. Then he said, My swelling hart for very anger breakes. How oft have I beene baited by these peeres? And dare not be revengde, for their power is great: Yet shall the crowing of these cockerels Affright a Lion? Edward, unfolde thy pawes, And let their lives bloud slake.thy furies hunger: (1002-07) Here Edward almost seems a kingly lion. These two passages reveal Edward's penchant for replacing action with words, as does the next excerpt, which displays the ease with which Edward immerses himself in an unreal, metaphoric world. "Friends", he says to the frightful pair, Matrevis and Gurney,

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whither must unhappie Edward go, Will hatefull Mortimer appoint no rest? Must I be vexed like the nightly birde, Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowles? (2269-72) Later, he reverts once more to similar imagery: The Wrenne may strive against the Lions strength, But all in vaine: So vainly do I strive, (2299-2300)5 Thus he becomes the bird and the barons the lion, and the transference of roles is especially marked as he explains the metaphor. Marlowe portrays in the latter part of the play the change in motivation of the hero's weakness by selecting images such as those which emphasize his kingship and his weakness, and also through such an image as Baldock uses: This haught resolve becomes your majestie, Not to be tied to their affection, As though your highnes were a schoole boy still, And must be awde and governd like a child. (1334-37) The comparison does not fit the dignity of a king, but it does express the attitude of the noblemen and their King. Thus, through a change in imagery effected partly through the elimination of Gaveston, Marlowe changes Edward from a man weak because of his appetites to one weak because of political and martial shortcomings. This change is complemented by the change in Mortimer from a bluff, outspoken creature into one both strong and sly, who describes himself as being, While at the councell table, grave enough, And not unlike a bashfull puretaine, (2389-90) Mortimer's strength is acknowledged by the King when he says that Mortimer "like a mountaine overwhelmes my blisse" (2040). Mortimer himself, in his pride, says that he stands "as Joves huge tree, / And others are but shrubs compard to me" (2579-80). On the other hand, Mortimer when necessary belittles his strength, as in his words to Isabel persuading her to permit the execution of Edward: s Steane says, "Nor with a single exception [the sun representing the crown], does the imagery work together purposefully as in Tamburlaine, Faustus, and Dido" (p. 208). But these excerpts, I believe, do show animal imagery working in concert.

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For now we hould an old Wolfe by the eares, That if he slip will seaze upon us both, And gripe the sorer being gript himselfe. (2149-51)

The image can scarcely be expected to convince the audience, who are thoroughly cognizant of Mortimer's opinion of the King. The singularity of the image, however, rather effectively underlines the cleverness of Mortimer, who has said immediately before that Spencer and Baldock "Have done their homage to the loftie gallowes" (2145), making a burlesque of their loyalty to the King; they have been almost alone in doing homage to him. The images seem to affect one's response to Mortimer rather than to Edward, for Edward is pretty thoroughly established as a sympathetic character by this point in the play, and Mortimer is more and more clearly a villain. A final touch to Marlowe's portrait of the man who began as a somewhat irascible opponent of the King's pleasure-seeking and who became an avid seeker after power is given in an image used by Kent and then by the young King. When Edmund, Duke of Kent, first realizes that Isabel and Mortimer seek power rather than England's good, he says, "Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate" (1801). With these words Marlowe makes the relationship between the conspirators absolutely clear and also reduces them and their love to an inferior, animal plane. A very similar image is almost the last in the play; the new King says, Could I have rulde thee then, as I do now, Thou hadst not hatcht this monstrous treacherie? (2664-65)

The image is not so vivid here, for it is almost overwhelmed by the words "monstrous treacherie" and the bloody object, the "wicked traitors head" (2668), but its effect is still to degrade Mortimer. If this play fails, it is not, as Tucker Brooke asserts in his edition, because Marlowe shows no more in this play than in the others "an ability to fuse" the "two main elements of dramatic poetry", "lyric and dramatic inspiration". 6 If the play fails - and by that I mean if it is not a tragedy measurable by Aristotle's standards - it is due to a failure in architectonics. Marlowe began before the beginning of the tragic action and therefore gave too much importance to the background. However, the poet has used imagery (of which only a small part has been quoted) to delineate this background effectively. The audience is enabled through the imagery to see

«

P. 309.

EDWARD II

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clearly the change in Mortimer from fretfulness t o determination and t o feel the change in Edward from perversion to weakness o f morale (as opposed t o moral fiber). The audience is thus convinced b y Edward's vacillation as his end approaches and b y Mortimer's villainy as well as o f the inevitability o f the conflict's tragic end. 7

7 Irving Ribner maintains that because Marlowe had the "vision and introspection of the p o e t . . . he became the first great writer of tragedy in English, for no one before him had been capable of forging upon the stage a comprehensive vision of man's relation to the forces of evil in the world, and among his immediate successors he is surpassed in his achievement only by Shakespeare". Ribner then goes on to say, "Marlowe came to the writing of tragedy very slowly, attaining a fully tragic vision only in his two final plays [Edward II and Doctor Faustus]" (The Complete Plays of Christopher Marlowe [New York, 1963], pp. xxiv-xxv).

7. "FROM JYGGING VAINES" TO "MARLOWE'S MIGHTY LINE'

In this examination of Marlowe's use of imagery in metaphoric figures of speech, not all the imagery in the plays has been analyzed; instead, what seem the most representative and important examples of metaphor, simile, and comparison have been scrutinized to ascertain their raison d'etre. It appears that the imagery in each play is used purposefully. 1 Unquestionably, I Tamburlaine seems at times a tour de force of imagery; it is indubitably youthful, and the poet-playwright obviously glories in the power of words, but the words do have the force to remove one from his mundane surroundings to where he too may see Damascus lofty towers, Like to the shadowes of Pyramides, That with their beauties grac'd the Memphion fields: (IT IW.il 1546-48) There are fewer figures of speech in Marlowe's other plays, 2 it is true, but this is not necessarily evidence that the playwright believed metaphoric language is outside the bounds of dramatic propriety and therefore determined to subdue his lyric vein. It is conceivable that the playwright used fewer images because he recognized the exigencies of a given plot or hero. 3 It is, of course, not unreasonable to assume that it was the playwright's growing maturity which led him to select heroes and plots less amenable to exploitation in imagery. 1 Moody E. Prior mentions Shakespeare's purposeful use of imagery and asserts that Marlowe also, to some extent at least, succeeds in using imagery purposefully. He says, ". . . wherever the diction and imagery do not immediately serve the ends of necessity and probability, they play a major role in extending the bounds of the play and in giving it generality and magnitude" (p. 135). 2 See Marion Bodwell Smith for an analysis of the number and source of Marlowe's images. 3 Fieler, in his study of I Tamburlaine, points out the poet's problem in apotheosizing a "historical personage who by sixteenth-century standards was morally despicable". Imagery is one means, Fieler shows, of solving the problem (p. 1, et passim).

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One conclusion is clearly reached from an examination of the plays and especially from a comparison of I Tamburlaine and Edward / / ; that is that Marlowe became much more adept at using imagery as he proceeded in his career. He uses the metaphoric figures of speech much more subtly in the latter than in the former play. In Tamburlaine Marlowe assaults the audience with imagery, as it were; 4 he uses figurative language to manipulate their responses to his characters by repeatedly raising them to emotional heights. At times one's mind boggles at the demands the playwright makes as he tries to force his audience by means of imagery to like his hero again after proving he is a tyrant. His method is somewhat crude, and it is certainly emotionally exhausting. One needs the breathing space occasionally found among the lushly textured lines (in Menaphon's description of Tamburlaine, for example). One needs it in order to prepare for the next climb to the heights of passion. However, by the time he wrote Edward II, Marlowe had learned a great deal. He learned that it is much easier to keep going in the same direction rather than to alternate directions at frequent intervals. It is much easier to portray a king weak in one aspect later being weak in others, or to portray a man rebellious against the king for personal, almost petty, reasons as one who later rebels to gain authority. He learned to use imagery not to force the audience through arousing their emotions but to allow them to make a more measured response to a situation by combining reason and emotion. The response to I Tamburlaine in contrast to that to Edward II is almost purely emotional. In other words, Marlowe did learn to subordinate lyric inspiration, and he learned how to achieve his dramatic ends through a subtler combination of figurative and nonfigurative language.* It seems doubtful, at best, that Marlowe's greater artistry was achieved in one great step, especially since The Jew of Malta is so clearly one small step in the great progression. In that play, the Jew is represented as a reprehensible

4 Or, as Eugene M. Waith puts it: "The glittering verse, the sound of trumpets, the movement of armies across the stage, seem to have concealed more than they have revealed of one essential part of the play's meaning, the author's attitude towards his hero. The question of whether this extravagantly unconventional protagonist is presented with approval or disapproval has received answers so various and contradictory that a reader of the criticism might conclude that the play contains no sure indications of attitude . . . " (The Herculean Hero [New York, 1962], p. 60). s In his search for the "master spirit. . . the quintessence" of Marlowe, Steane occasionally achieves a statement which reveals the poet's art, which I have been primarily concerned with. He says, for example, that the difference between Tamburlaine and Edward is not that the former "tells of strength and success while Edward tells of weakness and failure, but that corresponding to these contrasts between the raw materials there is an extraordinary change of style - which is no 'mere' literary matter but the symptom of a revolution in attitude and sensibility" (p. 346).

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character almost from the beginning; little else but his material wealth matters to him. He says, What more may Heaven doe for earthly man Than thus to powre out plenty in their laps, (1.145-46)

Because the audience at least pays lip-service to the creed that heaven has much more to offer men than material wealth, they deplore his attitude. Furthermore, although Marlowe in one soliloquy (11.640-58) arouses some sympathy for the Jew, one's favorable response is limited almost to those eighteen lines. From the beginning the Jew's intemperance is portrayed, so that when his greed for wealth changes to an overwhelming desire for revenge and for power over the Christians, one finds it as easy to believe in the change in his goal as to condemn him and refuse him pity. In this play, then, Marlowe seems to acknowledge that it is easier to keep the audience's sympathy or antipathy directed in the same course from the beginning than to try to manipulate their responses as he had done in I Tamburlaine. Another step in the development of Marlowe's playwrighting skill is clearly seen in Doctor Faustus. The hero of this play is at first sympathetic. He is someone the audience respects for his knowledge and skill. His reasons for turning to necromancy are not altogether blameworthy to Renaissance men; he seeks further knowledge. Furthermore, opprobrium, if there is any, is directed at Valdes, who seeks other rewards from necromancy than those allegedly Faustus'. Despite the hero's being sympathetic, however, the poet almost from the beginning shows a flaw in his character which causes his deterioration. Faustus' attempts at repentance are momentary and quickly stopped by threats of pain.6 In one scene, for example, swords and knives appear before him so that he may commit suicide; later, Lucifer, a fearful sight, appears to him; and still later, Mephostophilis gives him a dagger and then threatens him. At last he has so far degenerated that he gives up his soul to Helen of Troy, whose company he has sought that he might avoid thinking of God. 7 Marlowe's careful delineation of the deterioration of

6 Or a combination of fear and entertainment as in the spectacle of the seven deadly sins which follows Lucifer's fearful appearance. Robert Ornstein points out that Faustus, "entranced by Lucifer's vaudeville show . . . forgets salvation" (p. 168). 7 In her discussion of Faustus Una Ellis-Fermor suggests that that "spontaneous love of beauty, which had been clear in Tamburlaine" and which "owes allegiance to no moral code" is also responsible for the Helen of Troy scene. She says, "Faustus sees Helen of Troy and the thoughts of death and hell vanish. Sin is meaningless and the ministers of vengeance powerless" (p. 80). But Miss Ellis-Fermor leaves unanswered the question of why Faustus asks for Helen. The context clearly reveals that Faustus seeks

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Faustus reaches its climax in the last soliloquy when Faustus says that he will leap up to his God; then he cries, "Who pulles me downe?" and then, insisting that he will call on Christ, he calls instead on Lucifer: Ah rend not my heart for naming of my Christ, Yet will I call on him, oh spare me Lucifer! Certainly, there is no need for the appearance on stage of hell and heaven, unless it is to please the orange-sellers and apprentices in the audience; the hero's rejection of salvation has been thoroughly displayed.8 Thus in this play Marlowe has made another step toward Edward II by selecting a hero with whom the audience can wholeheartedly sympathize even as they pity him for his fatal flaw. The ideas implicit or explicit in the plays also indicate a progression from the first through the last. Irving Ribner has very thoroughly worked out a scheme in which, he asserts, it is plain that in Tamburlaine and in part in Dido, Marlowe exalts power; in The Jew of Malta, The Massacre at Paris, and Edward II, he examines the workings of "policy"; in Edward II and Faustus Marlowe finally arrives at tragedy, as it is brought about by the "corrupting force of aspiration".' One may also examine the objects of aspiration of Marlowe's heroes in the over-reaching plays; the change in what is aspired towards or desired would appear to be evidence of the poet's growing intellectual maturity. 10 It is this concept, in fact, which guided the

Helen in order to extinguish in lust the thoughts of repentance which cause him, in his present spiritual weakness, such pain. Faustus says to Mephostophilis: One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee, To glut the longing of my hearts desire, That I might have unto my paramour, That heavenly Helen which I saw of late, Whose sweete imbracings may extinguish cleane These thoughts that do disswade me from my vow, And keepe mine oath I made to Lucifer. (1347-53)

Surely it is clear that Faustus flees God rather than seeks Helen even though the beauty of Marlowe's verse about "the face that lancht a thousand shippes" may obscure the fact to the audience. 8 However, the differences evident in the two extant versions of the play indicate that. Marlowe was not yet sure of himself. 9 Pp. xxv-xxxix. Although we do not agree in all details (viz., Ribner does not mention the deterioration of Tamburlaine which has been discussed herein), we do, nevertheless, agree on the general lines of development. 10 Although he does try to comprehend the spirit of Marlowe through the poet's works and days, Steane warns against the temptation to read autobiography when he asserts: "A picture of the man begins to emerge [from the autobiographical details we

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arrangement of the four over-reaching plays in the present order. 11 Although the heroes' conceptions of what is worth reaching for and their reactions to their failure to grasp it change quite markedly in the four plays, they have one thing in common, their aspiration; so that from the evidence of these plays, one might describe Christopher Marlowe as a man-intoxicated man. His words ring with assertions of man's power and passion for power — political in Tamburlaine, financial in The Jew of Malta, and intellectual in Doctor Faustus-, Tamburlaine speaks of the "sweet fruition of an earthly crowne"; Barabas asks: "What more may Heaven doe for earthly man / Then thus to powre out plenty in their laps"; and Faustus cries: "But his dominion that exceedes in this [necromancy], / Stretcheth as farre as doth the minde of man". In Faustus the hero-scholar reveals a greater imaginative power than the other aspirers and a greater awareness that death demands soul-searching; moreover, he alone of all Marlowe's aspirers surrenders his will in his dying words, as he says, "lie burne my bookes". 12 The Scythian shepherd, on the other hand, with almost no acknowledgement of conscience, marches on to victory after victory. (Of course, achievement corrupts him, as has been shown.) In II Tamburlaine the hero denies that death is a conqueror as he leaves his will and his aspiration to rule the world to his sons; it is not he, but his son, who acknowledges that death is the ultimate victor. 13 Barabas, in The Jew of Malta, is almost defeated in the end by the rightful (though scarcely righteous) Governor of Malta and by death, but he too goes to his death breathing defiance. In each play, lip-service at least is paid to the motto which, in modern parlance, says, "Crime does not pay", but it is only in Doctor Faustus that the hero concurs. In his treatment of each hero's

know] with the strange, patchy vividness of a crackly phonograph cylinder through which we can just hear some great singer: the impression is so very vivid that we tend to forget that what we have is only a small part of the truth" (pp. 17.24-26). 11 An additional reason for their arrangement is provided by Professor Greg's argument in the preface to his parallel text edition of Faustus, pp. 9-10. 12 However, as J. B. Brockbank remarks: ". . . the fellowship of sin [is] perpetuated with 'Ah Mephostophilis!' " ("The Damnation of Faustus", Marlowe, ed. Leech, p. 118). 13 Steane believes that Marlowe reveals in Tamburlaine "religious depths . . . that gives [sic] these plays that poise, confidence, stamina and solidity which is theirs in notable contrast to his other works" (p. 116). Steane's definition of religion, however, is quite man-centered (pp. 111-15). He gives as evidence of his assertion the passage "When all the pens that ever poets held", a speech, he maintains, that "combines three articles of Tamburlaine's creed: reverence for beauty, pride in man, and aspiration seen as an essential part of natural living". These and other speeches, particularly the "ripe fruition" passage, are "a religion more than a philosophy; and, when all has been said, Tamburlaine must be recognized as in its extraordinary way fundamentally and deeply a religious work" (pp. 113-14).

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reaction to his own end, the poet displays a kind of evolution in his ideas; he moves on from an unconquerable hero to one who refuses to acknowledge that he is conquered, to a hero-villain who almost reaches out for death in his last ten words, to the hero who recognizes that he has lost. 14 Naturally, both figurative and nonfigurative language is used to depict clearly the hero's attitude in each of the plays, but figurative language is very important in the attempt to affect the audience's response to the hero, his aspiration, and his gains. In I Tamburlaine, for example, imagery depicts the hero's aspiration, his person, and his enemies. In II Tamburlaine Marlowe again employs profuse imagery, yet despite the hyperbole, despite the at times megalomaniac aspiration of the hero, despite the repetition of imagery in which Tamburlaine and those close to him are likened to heavenly bodies, despite all these things there is a different tone. There is an acknowledgement, particularly in the last one hundred-forty lines, that aspiration is more important than achievement.15 In The Jew of Malta Marlowe again uses imagery differently. Barabas is not a lyric poet, he does not aspire to the superhuman but is content with sublunar fruits, and the imagery is also sublunar. In this play the outstanding function of imagery is to provide leit-motivs suitable to the subject. Obviously, the ambition to have supernatural knowledge and its concomitant power — the ambition of Faustus — is also beyond Tamburlaine's over-reaching metaphoric language. If this ambition be translatable by imagery at all, the image will be less than the actual object. Therefore, in Faustus Marlowe wisely used fewer images and used them differently. In these four plays, then, the theme is defined at least partly by the imagery used, and the four apparently show the intellectual development of the poet: Tamburlaine reveals the naivete of the young poet, The Jew of Malta perhaps the revulsion of this poet confronted by London and the facts of life, 16 Doctor Faustus the man who recognizes the limitations of the intellect even while he tries to reject them, Edward II, of course, begins the exploration of a new field. 14 Moreover, as David Bevington points out in his study of The Jew. ". . . it is Marlowe's search for new themes that places such emphasis upon the older format [that is, the episodic structure], by exaggerating its incongruity in a drama of increasingly secular values" (p. 148). 15 Helen Gardner apparently agrees, although she says that the theme is ". . . the clash of man's desires and his experience" (p. 20). She also says that although "it cannot be claimed that the execution . . . is equal to the conception . . . the play . . . is an interesting early attempt at a more complicated tragic pattern than the first part or Dr. Faustus can show" (p. 23). (Of course, she does not believe it is a better play than either of the others.) 16 Although this play appears to be essentially a dramatic pot-boiler capitalizing on the hatred of Gentile for Jew, something of what Marlowe felt about the world in which he lived seems to be reflected in it. Like Greene's coney-catching pamphlets and Nashe's Unfortunate Traveller, it appears to express the poet's reactions to the addiction to

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EdwardII might have been quite fruitful for Marlowe. It might well have led him into the production of tragedy in the traditional vein. To our everlasting loss, the poet died. Nevertheless, we are indebted to Marlowe for far more than the poetry of his plays and his contribution to the English drama. Although his plays are not biography in the usual sense, some of them, at least, are biographical in a larger sense; they are part of the biography of Western man. I and II Tamburlaine and Doctor Faustus are concerned with the relations between man and God, a subject of great importance in the sixteenth century, when man was becoming a modern. Out of the struggles and assertions embodied in these plays — in Tamburlaine the struggle with God for equality of power over man and assertions of the earth's importance over the heavens; in Doctor Faustus the struggle for equality with God in creative power and knowledge, a further assertion of man's importance; from struggles and assertions of this kind grew the new science, the denial of God, the nineteenth-century conflict between science and religion, and — still continuing — the confusion in man's mind over the supreme power in the world — man or God, and the conflict over whether science must meet moral standards or whether its aim, knowledge, is unmeasurable by morality. For the concrete, dramatic portrayal of these struggles and conflicts, a portrayal partly achieved through the imagery of his plays, we also acknowledge our debt to Christopher Marlowe.

wealth and the politic pursuit of power so rampant in Elizabethan London. Its harshness in places resembles the violent outcries of the angry young men of the 1950s. Of course, as Boas (among others) has pointed out, the play has a factual basis, although the elements of the plot and of the main character are drawn from several sources (pp. 131-32). However, the reason Marlowe chose to develop the theme inherent in this play is our present concern rather than the sources of the plot or the characters.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baker, George P., "Dramatic Technique in Marlowe", Essays and Studies (Oxford, 1913), pp. 172-182. Baker, Howard, Induction to Tragedy (University, La., 1939). Battenhouse, Roy W., "Tamburlaine's Passions", Marlowe, ed. Clifford Leech (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964), pp. 57-68. Bevington, David M., "The Jew of Malta", Marlowe, ed. Clifford Leech (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964), pp. 144-158. Boas, F. S., An Introduction to Tudor Drama (Oxford, 1933). - , Christopher Marlowe (Oxford, 1940). Bradbrook, M. C., Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge, Eng., 1935). - , "The Jew of Malta and Edward II", Marlowe, ed. Clifford Leech (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964), pp. 120-127. Brockbank, J. B., Marlowe: Dr. Faustus (London, 1962). —, "The Damnation of Faustus", Marlowe, ed. Clifford Leech (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964), pp. 112-119. Brooke, C. F. Tucker, The Tudor Drama (Cambridge, Mass., 1911). - , "Marlowe's Versification and Style", Studies in Philology, XIX (1922), pp. 186-205. —, "Christopher Marlowe", Essays on Shakespeare and Other Elizabethans (New Haven, 1948). Bush, Douglas, Mythology and the Renaissance Tradition in English Poetry (New York, 1957). Clemen, Wolfgang, The Development of Shakespeare's Imagery (Cambridge, Mass., 1951). -, -"EdwardIT', Marlowe, ed. Clifford Leech (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964), pp. 138-143. Colbrunn, Ethel B., "The Simile as a Stylistic Device in Elizabethan Narrative Poetry", unpublished dissertation, University of Florida, 1954. Cole, Douglas, Suffering and Evil in the Plays of Christopher Marlowe (Princeton, 1962). Duthie, G. I., "The Dramatic Structure of Marlowe's 'Tamburlaine the Great', parts I and 11",English Studies, I, new series (1948), pp. 101-126. Ellis-Fermor, Una, Christopher Marlowe (London, 1927). Empson, William, "Two Proper Crimes", The Nation, CLXIII (1946), pp. 444-45. Fieler, Frank B., Tamburlaine, Part I and Its Audience (Gainesville, Fla., 1961). Gardner, Helen, "The Second Part of 'Tamburlaine the Great' ", Modern Language Review, XXXVII (1942), pp. 19-24.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Goheen, Robert F., The Imagery of Sophocles' Antigone (Princeton, 1951). Greg, W. W., "The Damnation of Faustus", Marlowe, ed. Clifford Leech (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964), pp. 92-107. Henderson, Philip, Christopher Marlowe, rev. ed. (London, 1962). Kocher, Paul H., Christopher Marlowe (Chapel Hill, 1946). Leech, Clifford, ed., Marlowe (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1964). Levin, Harry, The Overreacher (Cambridge, Mass., 1952). Mahood, M. M., Poetry and Humanism (New Haven, 1950). Marlowe, Christopher, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, ed. C. F. Tucker Brooke (Oxford, 1910). - , Marlowe's Doctor Faustus, ed. W. W. Greg (Oxford, 1950). Oras, Ants, "Lyrical Instrumentation in Marlowe: A Step Towards Shakespeare", Studies in Shakespeare, ed. Arthur D. Matthews and Clark M. Emery (Coral Gables, 1953), pp. 74-87. Omstein, Robert, "The Comic Synthesis in Doctor Faustus", ELH: A Journal of English Literary History, XXII (1955), pp . 165-172. Peacock, Ronald, The Art of Drama (New York, 1957). Peele, George, The Old Wives Tale, Elizabethan and Stuart Plays, ed. Charles Read Baskervill, Virgil B. Heltzel, and Arthur H. Nethercot (New York, 1934). Prior, Moody E., The Language of Tragedy (New York, 1947). Puttenham, George (or Richard), The Art of English Poesie, ed. Gladys Doidge Willcock and Alice Walker (Cambridge, Eng., 1956). Ransome, John Crowe, "Criticism as Pure Speculation", The Intent of the Critic, ed. Donald A. Stauffer (Princeton, 1941), pp. 89-124. Ribner, Irving, ed., The Complete Plays of Christopher Marlowe (New York, 1963). - , ed., Christopher Marlowe's Dr. Faustus (New York, 1966). Rickey, Mary Ellen, "Astronomical Imagery in Tamburlaine", Renaissance Papers (1954), pp. 63-70. Rubel, Vere L., Poetic Diction in the English Renaissance (New York, 1941). Shakespeare, William, The Complete Works of Shakespeare, ed. Hardin Craig (New York, 1951). Smith, Hallett, Elizabethan Poetry (Cambridge, Mass., 1952). Smith, Marion Bodwell, Marlowe's Imagery and the Marlowe Canon (Philadelphia, 1940). Spurgeon, Caroline, Shakespeare's Imagery (Cambridge, Eng., 1952). Stanley, Emily B., "The Use of Classical Mythology by the University Wits", Renaissance Papers (1956), pp. 25-33. Steane, J. B., Marlowe (Cambridge, Eng., 1964). Tuve, Rosemund, Elizabethan and Metaphysical Imagery (Chicago, 1947). Valéry, Paul, "Poetry and Abstract Thought", Aspects of Poetry, ed. Mark Linenthal (Boston, 1963), pp. 26-48. Waith, Eugene M., The Herculean Hem (New York, 1962). Wells, Henry W., Poetic Imagery Illustrated from Elizabethan Literature (New York, 1961), reprint. Whaler, James, "The Miltonic Simile", PMLA, XLVI (1931), pp. 1034-1074. Wilson, F. P., Marlowe and the Early Shakespeare (Oxford, 1953). Zocca, Louis R., Elizabethan Narrative Poetry (New Brunswick, N.J., 1950).

INDEX

Aeneid, The, 39 Alexander and Campaspe, 16 Alleyn, Edward, 18, 20 As You Like It, 16 Aspiring hero, 10, 20-22, 35-36, 53, 61, 62, 63, 72-77, 78, 79, 93, 94-95 Baines, Richard, 7 Baker, Howard, 8n, 9n Battenhouse, Roy W., 25n, 35n Bevington, David M., 63n, 68n, 95n Biographical reading, 6-8, 76n, 93-94n, 95,96 Boas, Frederick S., 16, 27n, 96n Bradbrook, M. C., 6, 69n Brockbank, J. B., 94n Brooke, C. F. Tucker, 5, 6, 8, 11, 88 Characterization, 10, 16, 18, 19, 20-32, 40, 42, 43-47, 48-49, 50-53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 57-61, 59n, 70, 79-81, 82-89, 91-92 Gemen, Wolfgang, 6, 8 Colbrunn, Ethel, 8, 9n Cole, Douglas, 5-6, 7, 8, 16, 40 Comparison, defined, 8-9, 17n, 90 Dido, Queen of Carthage, 10, 87n, 93 Doctor Faustus, 7, 7n, 10, 11, 15, 16, 47n, 71, 72-77, 78, 87n, 89n, 92-93, 94, 95, 96 Dramatic structure, 7, 10, 11, 16, 19, 32-40, 42, 42-43, 47ff, 47-48n, 53-57,61,78, 79, 88,92 Duthie, G. I., 42n EdwardII, 6, 7n, 10, 11, 69n, 78-89, 91, 91n, 93, 95, 96 Ellis-Fermor, Una, 76n, 92-93n Empson, William, 7n Fieler, Frank B„ 20n, 37n, 42n, 90n Figure of speech, 8-10, 9n, 17, 19 Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, 16 Gardner, Helen, 47n, 95n Gorboduc, 17n Greene, Robert, 15, 16, 95n Greg, W. W„ 5, 8, 11, 73n, 75n, 78n, 94n

Hamlet, lOn Hero and Leander, 80 History of English drama, 6, 15-18 Inkhorn controversy, 17 Jew of Malta, The, 10,17-18, 62-71, 72, 91-92, 93, 94, 95 Kocher, Paul H., 7 Kyd, Thomas, 5, 7, 15 Leit-motif, 10, 62-70, 95 Levin, Harry, 5 Lyly, John, 15, 16 Macbeth, lOn Marlowe's style, 5-10, 15, 19, 61, 79, 88, 90-91, 95 Massacre at Paris, The, 10-11, 93 Metaphor, 5, 8, defined 9, 17n, 90 Nashe, Thomas, 10, 95n Noh plays, lOn Old Wives Tale, 17-18 Oras, Ants, 25n Ornstein, Robert, 74n, 92n Paradise Lost, 78n Peacock, Ronald, 9n Peele George, 15, 17-18 Prior, Moody E., 6, 17, 90n Puttenham, George (or Richard), 9n Rhetoric (diction), 5-6, 8, 10, 16, 17, 4243 Ribner, Irving, 41n, 77n, 89n, 93 RichardII, 78 Romeo and Juliet, 17-18 Seneca, 16 Shakespeare, William, 10, 16, 17-18, 78 Shirley, James, 17 Simile, defined 8-9,17n, 90 Smith, Marion Bodwell, 38n, 90n Stanley, Emily B., 40n, 47-48n, Steane, J. B., 7, 20n, 23n, 34-35n, 35n, 38n, 53-54n, 63n, 74n, 78-79n, 85n, 87n, 91n, 93-94n, 94n Tamburlaine Parti, 5, 6, 10, 16n, 18, 19, 2 0 4 1 , 42, 43, 45, 46, 47n, 48n, 53-54, 54n, 55, 55n, 57n, 60n, 61, 62, 63, 70, 72, 78, 78n, 79, 85, 87n,

100 90, 90n, 91, 91n, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96 Tamburlaine Part II, 9, 10, 42-61, 94, 95,96 Unfortunate Traveller, The, 95n

University Wits, The, 15, 16 Valery, Paul, 9n Waith, Eugene M.,91n Wilson, F. P., 6-7, 26n, 62n

de proprietatibus litterarum Series 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 12 13 14 15 17 19 20 21 22 23 24 26 27 28 29 30 32 33 ,34 35 36 38 40 41 43 45 47 48

Practica

Cohn, R . G . : M a l l a r m i ' s M a s t e r p i e c e H i e a t t , C . B . : The Realism o f Dream V i s i o n Mogan, J . J . : Chaucer and the Theme o f M u t a b i l i t y Nusser, P . : Musils Romantheorie P e r l o f f , M . : Rhyme and Meaning i n the P o e t r y o f Yeats Cusac, ri.H.: N a r r a t i v e S t r u c t u r e i n the N o v e l s of Sir Halter Scott Newton, R . P . : Form i n the 'Menschheitsdämmerung' W o r t l e y , W.V.: T a l l e m a n t des RSaux Swanson, D . R . : Three Conquerors Gopnik, I . : A Theory o f S t y l e and Richardson s Clarissa Feldman, S . D . : The M o r a l i t y - P a t t e r n e d Comedy o f the Renaissance M i t c h e l l , G . : The A r t Theme in Joyce C a r y ' s First Trilogy Ebner, 0 . : Autobiography i n SeventeenthCentury England B a l l , D . L . : Samuel R i c h a r d s o n ' s Theory o f Fiction Raymond, M . B . : Swinburne's P o e t i c s Powers, D . C . : E n g l i s h Formal S a t i r e S c h i c k , E . B . : M e t a p h o r i c a l Organicism i n H e r d e r ' s E a r l y Works Hood, H . : The H i s t o r i e s o f Herodotus Magner, J . E . : John Crowe Ransom L a a r , E.Th.M.van d e : The Inner S t r u c t u r e o f fathering Heights Einbond, B . L . : Samuel Johnson's A l l e g o r y Harder, H . T . : A C e r t a i n Order V e r n i e r , R.s ' P o é s i e i n i n t e r r o m p u e ' e t l a p o é t i q u e de Paul Eluard 39 FF/ Hennedy, H . L . : U n i t y i n B a r s e t s h i r e McLean, S . K . : The "Bànkelsang" and the Work o f B e r t o l d Brecht I n n i s s , X . : D.H.Lawrence's B e s t i a r y George, E . E . : H ö l d e r l i n " s "Ars P o e t i c a " Sampson, H . G . : The A n g l i c a n T r a d i t i o n i n Eighteenth-Century Verse B l a k e , R . E . : The "Essays de m é d i t a t i o n s 49 FF/ p o é t i q u e s " o f F r è r e Zacharie de V i t r é Jakobson, R. and L . G . J o n e s : Shakespeare's V e r b a l A r t i n 'Ik 'Expense of Spirit Silverman, E . B . : P o e t i c Synthesis in S h e l l e y ' s "Adonais" Dougherty, A . : A Study o f Rhytmic S t r u c t u r e i n the Verse o f W i l l i a m B u t l e r Yeats E u s t i s , A . : M o l i è r e as I r o n i c Contemplator Champigny, R . : Humanism and Human Racism Kopman, H . : Rencontres w i t h the Inanimate 31 FF/ i n P r o u s t ' s Recherche H i l l e n , G . : Andreas Gryphius' Cardenia und Ce linde Ewton, R.W.: The L i t e r a r y T h e o r i e s o f August Wilhelm S c h l e g e l Todd, J . E . : Emily D i c k i n s o n ' s Use o f the Persona

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de proprietatibus litterarum Serles Practica 50 Metcalf, A.A.: Poetic Diction in the old English Meters of Boethius SÍ Knowlton, M.A.: The Influence of Richard Rolle and of Julian of Norwich on the Middle English Lyrics 52 Richmond, H.M.: Renaissance Landscapes 54 Celler, M.M.: Giraudoux et la mStaphore 34 55 Fletcher, R.M.: The Stylistic Development of Edgar Allan Poe 57 Nelson, T.A.: Shakespeare's Comic Theory 59 Dugan, J.R.: Illusion and Reality 61 Couchman, G.W.: This our Caesar 63 Schulz, H.-J.s This Hell of Stories 69 Godshalk, W.L.: Patterning in Shakespearean Drama 71 Kostis, N.: The Exorcism of Sex and Death in Julisn Green's Novels 72 Hoshinsky, B.R.: La Princesse de CISves 49 75 Hewitt, W.s Through Those Living Pillars 49 78 Ferrante, J.M.¡ The Conflict of Love and Honor49 83 Jones, L.E.: Poetic Fantasy and Fiction Series Didactlca 1 Swaim, K.M.: A Reading of Gulliver's Travels

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38,-

de proprietatibus litterarum Series Minor 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 11 12 13

Eaton, T . : The Semantics o f L i t e r a t u r e Koch, W.A.: Recurrence and a Three-Modal Approach t o Poetry S u l l i v a n , N . : Perspective and the P o e t i c Process LoCicero, D.: Novellentheorie Uehling, T.E. J r . : The Notion of Form in Kant's ' C r i t i q u e of Aesthetic Judgment' Haldrop, R . : Against Language? Shibles, W.A.: An Analysis of Metaphor in the Light of W.M.Urban's Theories Lengyel, C . : The Creative Self H i l l , F . : The Knife in the Stone Eaton, T . : T h e o r e t i c a l Semics Champigny, R . : Ontology o f the Narrative Prince, G.: A Grammar of Stories

Series Major 1 Hester M.B.': The Meaning of P o e t i c Metaphor 2 Delasanta, R . : The Epic Voice 3 Gray, B.: Style 5 Belgardt, R.: Romantische Poesie 6 Sexton, R . J . : The Complex of Yvor Winters' Criticism 7 Wood, T . E . : The Word "Sublime" and i t s Context 1650-1760 8 Thompson, E.M.: Russian Formalism and AngloAmerican New C r i t i c i s m 9 Hale, D.G.: The Body P o l i t i c 10 G a l l o , E.s The Poetria Nova and i t s Sources in Early Rhetorical Doctrine 11 M i l l e r , D.M.: The Net of Hephaestus 12 Ryding, W.W.: Structure in Medieval Narrative 13 Shmiefsky, M.: Sense at War with Soul 14 R a f f e l , B . : The Forked Tongue 15 L e v i t t , P.M.: A Structural Approach t o the Analysis of Drama 16 Hagiwara, M.P.: French Epic Poetry in the Sixteenth Century 17 Braun, J . T . : The Apostrophic Gesture 18 Guggenheimer, E.H.: Rhyme E f f e c t s ana Rhyming Figures 19 Ingram, F . L . : Representative Short Story Cycles "of the Twentieth Century 20 Barasch, F . K . : The Grotesque 22 Nichols, J.W.: Insinuation 23 Brockett, O.G. ( e d . ) : Studies in Theatre and Drama 25 Schludermann, B. e t a l ( e d s . ) : Deutung und Bedeutung 26 Benoit, R . : Single Nature's Double Name

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44,32,34,30,32,22,-

40,32,42,42.36,24,64.98,30,-