CHAPTER VII "THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE " In his "Life of William Shakespeare," Sir Sidney Lee says of this poem, Happily Shakespeare wrote nothing else of like character"; and he seems to hope that in this way he has disposed of it. But there it remains in obstinate impenetrability. This, however, is in appearance rather than in reality, for if the poem is read in its context, it is fairly intelligible. It came out originally in 1601 in a book entitled, Loves Martyr, or Rosalins Complaint," by R. Chester. I suppose one of the most tedious poems ever produced, but, by a curious irony, because of the inclusion in it of Shakespeare's poem, now so precious as to be almost priceless. No example of the original issue exists in the British Museum, and Halliwell, writing in 1865, says "only two copies of the first edition of 1601 are known to exist." It was re-issued in 1611, the body of it being part of the first edition, with a new titlepage bearing the misleading description, "The Annals of Great Brittaine. Or, a most excellent monument, wherein may be seene all the Antiquities of the Kingdome, to the satisfaction of both of the Universities, or any other place stirred with emulation of long continuance. Excellently figured out in a worthy poem." This title is taken from a subordinate episode in the piece, in which the writer takes occasion to air his knowledge of the British chronicles. I have no doubt the title was chosen to mislead the censor and the authorities, because if the true meaning of the piece had been suspected, the author and the printer would hardly have escaped the pillory and probably the loss of their ears.1 An example of this edition is in the British Museum. 1 Cecil, who, as I shall show, is attacked in this poem was still alive. How dangerous it was in those days to attack a minister is shown by the fact that a man lost his ears for speaking ill of Bacon as Lord Chancellor. The main poem is of interminable length, and certain wellknown writers were asked to add a contribution, no doubt to make the book more saleable. These are referred to on the title page: "To these are added some new compositions of severall moderne writers upon the first subject: viz., That this was by request is the Phoenix and Turtle." shown by Ben Jonson's exordium, "We must sing too? What subject shall we chuse ?" The other contributors are Ignoto, John Marston, George Chapman, and William Shake-speare, who, unaccountably, signs his name thus, with a hyphen. The following is his contribution, without title. I have printed it in the modern spelling, as it appears in the Globe" edition, but I have put in the capital letters, because one of them is important, and the words originally printed in italics. Let the bird of loudest lay, On the sole Arabian tree, To whose sound chaste wings obey. But thou shrieking harbinger, Foul precurrer of the fiend, Augur of the fever's end, To this troop come thou not near I From this Session interdict Every fowl of tyrant wing, Save the Eagle, feather'd King; Keep the obsequy so strict. Let the Priest in Surplice white, That defunctive Music can, Be the death-divining Swan, Lest the Requiem lack his right. And thou treble-dated Crow, That thy sable gender makest With the breath thou givest and takest, Here the Anthem doth commence ; Love and Constancy is dead; In a mutual flame from hence. So they loved, as love in twain Hearts remote, yet not asunder; Distance, and no space was seen "Twixt the Turtle and his Queen: But in them it were a wonder. So between them Love did shine, That the Turtle saw his right Flaming in the Phoenix sight; Either was the other's mine. Property was thus appalled, That the self was not the same; Single Nature's double name Neither two nor one was called. Reason, in itself confounded, That it cried, How true a twain Seemeth this concordant one! Love hath Reason, Reason none, If what parts can so remain. Whereupon it made this Threne THRENOS. Beauty, Truth and Rarity, Here enclosed in cinders lie. Death is now the Phonix's nest; Leaving no posterity: Truth may seem, but cannot be ; To this urn let those repair For these dead Birds sigh a prayer. Now, as I said, read by itself, this is very difficult and is almost in the language of acrostic. Let us see what light is thrown on it by the main poem, by which it was suggested. The allegorical portion of the poem is developed under a dialogue between Dame Nature and the Phoenix, and is thus referred to in a sub-title: "Rosalin's Complaint, metaphorically applied to Dame Nature, at a Parliament held (in the high Star-chamber) by the Gods, for the preservation and increase of Earth's beauteous Phoenix." I proceed to give some extracts of a significant character, from which, without wading through the whole, (which is of great length), the allegory should become clear to the reader. Nature! "One rare rich Phoenix of exceeding beautie Her beauty is elaborately described and the conclusion reached, "This Phoenix I do feare me will decay." Jove is asked to raise another : “Then thus Jove spake, 'tis pittie she should die, And leave no offspring of her Progenie." Nature is told by Jove to go to Paphos, where she will find, "true Honors lovely Squire, That for this Phanix keeps Prometheus fire." "His name is Liberall honor and his hart Aymes at true faithfull service and desart." "Look on his face, and in his browes doth sit Bloud and sweete mercies hand in hand united, " Bloud to his foes, a president most fit For such as have his gentle humour spited: His haire is curl'd by nature mild and meeke, Hangs carelesse down to hide his blushing cheeke." Give him this Ointment to anoint his Head, This precious Balme to lay unto his feet. And of their ashes by my doome shall rise Here follows a long prayer of very devout character. for the "prosperitie of the silver coloured Dove, applied to the beauteous Phoenix," and then comes "A meeting Dialogue-wise between Nature, the Phoenix, and the Turtle Dove." Phanix! Nature: "I must die, And never with a poore young Turtle graced, But (O my griefe) where my faire Eyes would love, "Tell me (O Mirrour) of our earthly time, Tell me sweete Phanix glorie of mine age. . . . " “Ile conjure him [Envy], I raise him from his Cell.” Envy is conjured up: "He shall not touch a Feather of thy wing, Phonix! As he hath had in his dayes secret prying "What is he gone? is Envie packt away? Then one fowle blot is mooved from his Throne |