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PHILIP MASSINGER

(1583-1640)

BY ANNA MCCLURE SHOLL

HE plays of Philip Massinger embody the prosaic spirit of the period of decline which followed Shakespeare. This spirit is not indicated by the subject-matter of his dramas. The plots of The Duke of Milan,' The Guardian,' or 'The Fatal Dowry,' admit of great treatment. In Massinger's hands they are at least well woven. His absence of imagination is shown rather by his lack of moral consistency in the depiction

of character. His men and women are puppets, moved to action by the will of their artificer, not by the laws of their individuality.

The events of Massinger's life are obscure and elusive. He was born in 1583; he entered St. Albans Hall, Oxford, in 1602. During his four years' residence there "he gave his mind more to poetry and romances than to logic and philosophy." After leaving Oxford he went up to London, to throw in his fortunes with the frequenters of the Mermaid Tavern. The enchanted world of the drama was at that time clothed in the richness and beauty of its prime. The young hearts of Beaumont and Fletcher, of Webster and Tourneur, still throbbed with "the love of love, the hate of hate." The brain of genius was still unchilled by doubt and speculation.

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PHILIP MASSINGER

Massinger, though contemporary with these great children of a great age, belongs by his spirit to a duller time. His dramas have the solidity of prose without its freedom. His characters and situations lack the spontaneity of nature. He is melodramatic in the sense that his men and women are personifications of virtue or vice. The broad via media, the highway on which the majority of mankind is afoot, has no place in his dramas. He is blind to the half-lights of character, to the subtle blendings of shade and color in the minds of men.

Camiola and Adorni in 'The Maid of Honour' are exceptions to this rule. Camiola, who loves Bertoldo and is herself hopelessly beloved of Adorni, is "a small but ravishing substance." Her impetuous affection, like Juliet's, goes directly to its goal without subterfuge or deviation. When she learns from the servants that Bertoldo is in prison, abandoned by the King, the impatience of her sorrow leaps to her lips:

"Possible! Pray you, stand off.

If I do mutter treason to myself

My heart will break; and yet I will not curse him,—

He is my King. The news you have delivered

Makes me weary of your company: we'll salute

When we meet next. I'll bring you to the door.
Nay, pray you, no more compliments.»

Adorni is a noble and convincing figure. When commissioned by Camiola to rescue his rival, she asks of him, "You will do this?" He answers, "Faithfully, madam;" then aside, "but not live long after." Massinger rarely clothes such abundance of meaning in so few words.

'The Fatal Dowry' and 'The Duke of Milan' are generally assigned the first place among the tragedies of Massinger. They are stately plays, but dreary and lifeless. His two comedies 'A New Way to Pay Old Debts' and 'The City Madam' are comedies only in the sense that they do not end in death and disaster. The character of Sir Giles Overreach in the former play has held the stage until the present time. Of Massinger's classical dramas, Arthur Symons assigns the highest place to 'Believe as You List,' though the better known play The Roman Actor' was held by the author "to be the most perfect work of my Minerva.”

Massinger is farthest from greatness in his depiction of women. With the exception of Camiola, of Lidia in the Great Duke of Florence,' of Bellisant in the Parliament of Love,' of Matilda in the 'Bashful Lover,' and of one or two others, his women are vulgar and sensual. Their purity and their vice are alike unconvincing. This defect of portrayal is common, however, to the majority of Massinger's characters. They are uninteresting because their qualities are imposed upon them. There is no fidelity to the hidden springs of action.

Massinger wrote a number of plays in conjunction with other dramatists. The best known is 'The Virgin-Martyr.' Dekker's touch is recognizable in such lines as these:

"I could weary stars,

And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes,
With my late watching."

Massinger was a prolific writer. Beside the plays already mentioned, he gave to the stage of his day 'The Renegado,' 'The Bondman,' 'A Very Woman,' 'The Emperor of the East,' 'The Picture,' and 'The Unnatural Combat.' Coleridge has recommended the diction of Massinger to the imitation of modern writers, on the ground that it is the nearest approach to the language of real life at all compatible with a fixed metre. It is this very characteristic of it which deprives it of the highest poetical quality.

Anna Mune Sholl

FROM THE MAID OF HONOUR›

[Camiola, who is in love with Bertoldo, is told by his friends Antonio and Gasparo that he is a prisoner, and that the King has refused to pay his ransom.]

Enter a Servant

Servant - The signiors, madam, Gasparo and Antonio,

Selected friends of the renowned Bertoldo,
Put ashore this morning.

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Camiola

Kissed the King's hand, and, their first duties done
To him, appear ambitious to tender

To you their second service.

Wait them hither.

Fear, do not rack me! Reason, now if ever
Haste with thy aids, and tell me, such a wonder
As my Bertoldo is, with such care fashioned,
Must not, nay, cannot, in Heaven's providence
So soon miscarry!—

Enter Antonio and Gasparo

Pray you, forbear: ere you take

The privilege as strangers to salute me.

(Excuse my manners) make me first understand
How it is with Bertoldo.

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You see, though with some fear, I dare inquire it. Gasparo-Dead! Would that were the worst: a debt were paid then, Kings in their birth owe nature.

Camiola

Is there aught

More terrible than death?

Antonio

Yes, to a spirit
Like his cruel imprisonment, and that
Without the hope of freedom.

Camiola

You abuse me:

Gasparo

Camiola

Antonio

Camiola--
Gasparo-

Camiola

The royal King cannot, in love to virtue,
(Though all the springs of affection were dried up)
But pay his ransom.

When you know what 'tis,

You will think otherwise: no less will do it
Than fifty thousand crowns.

A petty sum,

The price weighed with the purchase: fifty thousand!
To the King 'tis nothing. He that can spare more
To his minion for a masque, cannot but ransom
Such a brother at a million. You wrong

The King's munificence.

In your opinion;
But 'tis most certain: he does not alone
In himself refuse to pay it, but forbids
All other men.

Are you sure of this?

You may read

The edict to that purpose, published by him.
That will resolve you.

Possible! Pray you, stand off.
If I do mutter treason to myself
My heart will break; and yet I will not curse him,-
He is my King. The news you have delivered
Makes me weary of your company: we'll salute
When we meet next. I'll bring you to the door.
Nay, pray you, no more compliments.

FROM A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS'

[Sir Giles Overreach, on fire with greed and with ambition to found a great feudal house, treats about marrying his daughter with Lord Lovell.]

Ο

VERREACH - To my wish: we are private.

I come not to make offer with my daughter

A certain portion,- that were poor and trivial:

In one word I pronounce all that is mine,

In lands or leases, ready coin or goods,

With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have
One motive to induce you to believe

I live too long, since every year I'll add

Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too.

Lovell -- You are a right kind father.

Overreach

Lovell

Overreach

You shall have reason
To think me such. How do you like this seat?
It is well wooded and well watered, the acres
Fertile and rich: would it not serve for change
To entertain your friends in a summer progress?
What thinks my noble lord?

'Tis a wholesome air,
And well built; and she that is mistress of it
Worthy the large revenues.

It may be so for a time;
Say only that he but like
I say, ere long 'tis his.

Lovell-
Overreach-

Lovell

She the mistress! but let my lord

it, and would have it,

Impossible!

You do conclude too fast: not knowing me,

Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not alone

The lady Allworth's lands;-but point out any man's

In all the shire, and say they lie convenient

And useful for your Lordship, and once more

I say aloud, they are yours.

I dare not own
What's by unjust and cruel means extorted.
My fame and credit are more dear to me,
Than so to expose 'em to be censured by
The public voice.

Overreach

You run, my lord, no hazard:
Your reputation shall stand as fair

In all good men's opinions as now.

Nor can my actions, though condemned for ill,
Cast any foul aspersion upon yours:

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