The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  While Guise is transfigured, and Monsieur remains his truculent, vainglorious self, Montsurry has suffered a strange degeneration. It is sufficiently remarkable, to begin with, after his declaration at the end of Bussy D’Ambois,

  “May both points of heavens strait axeltreeConjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me!”

  to find him ready to receive back Tamyra as his wife, though her sole motive in rejoining him is to precipitate vengeance on his head. Nor had anything in the earlier play prepared us for the spectacle of him as a poltroon, who has “barricado’d” himself in his house to avoid a challenge, and who shrieks “murther!” at the entrance of an unexpected visitor. In the light of such conduct it is difficult to regard as merely assumed his pusillanimity in the final scene, where he at first grovels before Clermont on the plea that by his baseness he will “shame” the avenger’s victory. And when he does finally nerve himself to the encounter, and dies with words of forgiveness for Clermont and Tamyra on his lips, the episode of reconciliation, though evidently intended to be edifying, is so huddled and inconsecutive as to be well-nigh ridiculous.

  Equally ineffective and incongruous are the moralising discourses of which Bussy’s ghost is made the spokesman. It does not seem to have occurred to Chapman that vindications of divine justice, suitable on the lips of the elder Hamlet, fell with singular infelicity from one who had met his doom in the course of a midnight intrigue. In fact, wherever the dramatist reintroduces the main figures of the earlier play, he falls to an inferior level. He seems unable to revivify its nobler elements, and merely repeats the more melodramatic and garish effects which refuse to blend with the classic grace and pathos of Clermont’s story. The audiences before whom The Revenge was produced evidently showed themselves ill-affected towards such a medley of purely fictitious creations, and of historical personages and incidents, treated in the most arbitrary fashion. For Chapman in his dedicatory letter to Sir Thomas Howard refers bitterly to the “maligners” with whom the play met “in the scenicall presentation,” and asks who will expect “the autenticall truth of eyther person or action . . . in a poeme, whose subject is not truth, but things like truth?” He forgets that “things like truth” are not attained, when alien elements are forced into mechanical union, or when well-known historical characters and events are presented under radically false colours. But we who read the drama after an interval of three centuries can afford to be less perturbed than Jacobean playgoers at its audacious juggling with facts, provided that it appeals to us in other ways. We are not likely indeed to adopt Chapman’s view that the elements that give it enduring value are “materiall instruction, elegant and sententious excitation to vertue, and deflection from her contrary.” For these we shall assuredly look elsewhere; it is not to them that The Revenge of Bussy D’Ambois owes its distinctive charm. The secret of that charm lies outside the spheres of “autenticall truth,” moral as well as historical. It consists, as it seems to me, essentially in this — that the play is one of the most truly spontaneous products of English “humanism” in its later phase. The same passionate impulse — in itself so curiously “romantic” — to revitalise classical life and ideals, which prompted Chapman’s translation of “Homer, Prince of Poets,” is the shaping spirit of this singular tragedy. Its hero, as we have seen, has strayed into the France of the Catholic Reaction from some academe in Athens or in imperial Rome. He is, in truth, far more really a spirit risen from the dead than the materialised Umbra of his brother. His pervasive influence works in all around him, so that nobles and courtiers forget for a time the strife of faction while they linger over some fragrant memory of the older world. Epictetus with his doctrines of how to live and how to die; the “grave Greeke tragedian” who drew “the princesse, sweet Antigone”; Homer with his “unmatched poem”; the orators Demetrius Phalerius and Demades — these and their like cast a spell over the scene, and transport us out of the troubled atmosphere of sixteenth-century vendetta into the “ampler æther,” the “diviner air,” of “the glory that was Greece, the grandeur that was Rome.”

  Thus the two Bussy plays, when critically examined, are seen to be essentially unlike in spite of their external similarity. The plot of the one springs from that of the other; both are laid in the same period and milieu; in technique they are closely akin. The diction and imagery are, indeed, simpler, and the verse is of more liquid cadence in The Revenge than in Bussy D’Ambois. But the true difference lies deeper, — in the innermost spirit of the two dramas. Bussy D’Ambois is begotten of “the very torrent, tempest, and whirlwind” of passion; it throbs with the stress of an over-tumultuous life. The Revenge is the offspring of the meditative impulse, that averts its gaze from the outward pageant of existence, to peer into the secrets of Man’s ultimate destiny, and his relation to the “Universal,” of which he involuntarily finds himself a part.

  FREDERICK S. BOAS.

  THE TEXT

  Bussy D’Ambois was first printed in quarto in 1607 by W. Aspley, and was reissued in 1608. In 1641, seven years after Chapman’s death, Robert Lunne published another edition in quarto of the play, which, according to the title-page, was “much corrected and amended by the Author before his death.” This quarto differs essentially from its predecessors. It omits and adds numerous passages, and makes constant minor changes in the text. The revised version is not appreciably superior to the original draft, but, on the evidence of the title-page, it must be accepted as authoritative. It was reissued by Lunne, with a different imprint, in 1646, and by J. Kirton, with a new title-page, in 1657. Copies of the 1641 quarto differ in unimportant details such as articular, articulat, for evidently some errors were corrected as the edition passed through the press. Some copies of the 1646 quarto duplicate the uncorrected copies of the 1641 quarto.

  In a reprint of Chapman’s Tragedies and Comedies, published by J. Pearson in 1873, the anonymous editor purported to “follow mainly” the text of 1641, but collation with the originals shows that he transcribed that of 1607, substituting the later version where the two quartos differed, but retaining elsewhere the spelling of the earlier one. Nor is his list of variants complete. There have been also three editions of the play in modernized spelling by C. W. Dilke in 1814, R. H. Shepherd in 1874, and W. L. Phelps in 1895, particulars of which are given in the Bibliography. The present edition is therefore the first to reproduce the authoritative text unimpaired. The original spelling has been retained, though capitalization has been modernized, and the use of italics for personal names has not been preserved. But the chaotic punctuation has been throughout revised, though, except to remove ambiguity, I have not interfered with one distinctive feature, an exceptionally frequent use of brackets. In a few cases of doubtful interpretation, the old punctuation has been given in the footnotes.

  Dilke, though the earliest of the annotators, contributed most to the elucidation of allusions and obsolete phrases. While seeking to supplement his and his successors’ labours in this direction, I have also attempted a more perilous task — the interpretation of passages where the difficulty arises from the peculiar texture of Chapman’s thought and style. Such a critical venture seems a necessary preliminary if we are ever to sift truth from falsehood in Dryden’s indictment — indolently accepted by many critics as conclusive — of Bussy D’Ambois.

  The group of quartos of 1641, 1646, and 1657, containing Chapman’s revised text, is denoted by the symbol “B”; those of 1607 and 1608 by “A.” In the footnotes all the variants contained in A are given except in a few cases where the reading of A has been adopted in the text and that of B recorded as a variant. I have preferred the reading of A to B, when it gives an obviously better sense, or is metrically superior. I have also included in the Text fifty lines at the beginning of Act II, Scene 2, which are found only in A. Some slight conjectural emendations have been attempted which are distinguished by “emend. ed.” in the footnotes. In these cases the reading of the quartos, if unanimous, is denoted by “Qq.”

  In
the quartos the play is simply divided into five Acts. These I have subdivided into Scenes, within which the lines have been numbered to facilitate reference. The stage directions in B are numerous and precise, and I have made only a few additions, which are enclosed in brackets. The quartos vary between Bussy and D’Ambois, and between Behemoth and Spiritus, as a prefix to speeches. I have kept to the former throughout in either case.

  F. S. B.

  SOURCES

  The immediate source of the play has not been identified, but in the Introduction attention has been drawn to passages in the writings of Bussy’s contemporaries, especially Brantôme and Marguerite de Valois, which narrate episodes similar to those in the earlier Acts. Extracts from De Thou’s Historiae sui temporis and Rosset’s Histoires Tragiques, which tell the tale of Bussy’s amorous intrigue and his assassination, have also been reprinted as an Appendix. But both these narratives are later than the play. Seneca’s representation in the Hercules Œtaeus of the Greek hero’s destruction by treachery gave Chapman suggestions for his treatment of the final episode in Bussy’s career (cf. V, 4, 100-108, and note).

  PROLOGUE

  Not out of confidence that none but wee

  Are able to present this tragedie,

  Nor out of envie at the grace of late

  It did receive, nor yet to derogate

  From their deserts, who give out boldly that 5

  They move with equall feet on the same flat;

  Neither for all, nor any of such ends,

  We offer it, gracious and noble friends,

  To your review; wee, farre from emulation,

  And (charitably judge) from imitation, 10

  With this work entertaine you, a peece knowne,

  And still beleev’d, in Court to be our owne.

  To quit our claime, doubting our right or merit,

  Would argue in us poverty of spirit

  Which we must not subscribe to: Field is gone, 15

  Whose action first did give it name, and one

  Who came the neerest to him, is denide

  By his gray beard to shew the height and pride

  Of D’Ambois youth and braverie; yet to hold

  Our title still a foot, and not grow cold 20

  By giving it o’re, a third man with his best

  Of care and paines defends our interest;

  As Richard he was lik’d, nor doe wee feare,

  In personating D’Ambois, hee’le appeare

  To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent, 25

  As heretofore, give him encouragement.

  DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

  HENRY III, King of France.

  MONSIEUR, his brother.

  THE DUKE OF GUISE.

  MONTSURRY, a Count.

  BUSSY D’AMBOIS.

  BARRISOR, }

  L’ANOU, } Courtiers: enemies of D’AMBOIS.

  PYRHOT, }

  BRISAC, }

  MELYNELL, } Courtiers: friends of D’AMBOIS.

  COMOLET, a Friar.

  MAFFE, steward to MONSIEUR.

  NUNCIUS.

  MURDERERS.

  BEHEMOTH, }

  CARTOPHYLAX, } Spirits.

  UMBRA OF FRIAR.

  ELENOR, Duchess of Guise.

  TAMYRA, Countess of Montsurry.

  BEAUPRE, niece to ELENOR.

  ANNABLE, maid to ELENOR.

  PERO, maid to TAMYRA.

  CHARLOTTE, maid to BEAUPRE.

  PYRA, a court lady.

  Courtiers, Ladies, Pages, Servants, Spirits, &c.

  SCENE. — Paris

  ACTUS PRIMI.

  SCENA PRIMA.

  [A glade, near the Court.]

  Enter Bussy D’Ambois poore.

  [Bussy.] Fortune, not Reason, rules the state of things,

  Reward goes backwards, Honor on his head,

  Who is not poore is monstrous; only Need

  Gives forme and worth to every humane seed.

  As cedars beaten with continuall stormes, 5

  So great men flourish; and doe imitate

  Unskilfull statuaries, who suppose

  (In forming a Colossus) if they make him

  Stroddle enough, stroot, and look bigg, and gape,

  Their work is goodly: so men meerely great 10

  In their affected gravity of voice,

  Sowrnesse of countenance, manners cruelty,

  Authority, wealth, and all the spawne of Fortune,

  Think they beare all the Kingdomes worth before them;

  Yet differ not from those colossick statues, 15

  Which, with heroique formes without o’re-spread,

  Within are nought but morter, flint and lead.

  Man is a torch borne in the winde; a dreame

  But of a shadow, summ’d with all his substance;

  And as great seamen using all their wealth 20

  And skills in Neptunes deepe invisible pathes,

  In tall ships richly built and ribd with brasse,

  To put a girdle round about the world,

  When they have done it (comming neere their haven)

  Are faine to give a warning peece, and call 25

  A poore staid fisher-man, that never past

  His countries sight, to waft and guide them in:

  So when we wander furthest through the waves

  Of glassie Glory, and the gulfes of State,

  Topt with all titles, spreading all our reaches, 30

  As if each private arme would sphere the earth,

  Wee must to vertue for her guide resort,

  Or wee shall shipwrack in our safest port. Procumbit.

  [Enter] Monsieur with two Pages.

  [Monsieur.] There is no second place in numerous state

  That holds more than a cypher: in a King 35

  All places are contain’d. His words and looks

  Are like the flashes and the bolts of Jove;

  His deeds inimitable, like the sea

  That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts,

  Nor prints of president for meane mens facts: 40

  There’s but a thred betwixt me and a crowne;

  I would not wish it cut, unlesse by nature;

  Yet to prepare me for that possible fortune,

  ’Tis good to get resolved spirits about mee.

  I follow’d D’Ambois to this greene retreat; 45

  A man of spirit beyond the reach of feare,

  Who (discontent with his neglected worth)

  Neglects the light, and loves obscure abodes;

  But hee is young and haughty, apt to take

  Fire at advancement, to beare state, and flourish; 50

  In his rise therefore shall my bounties shine:

  None lothes the world so much, nor loves to scoffe it,

  But gold and grace will make him surfet of it.

  What, D’Ambois! —

  Buss. He, sir.

  Mons. Turn’d to earth, alive!

  Up man, the sunne shines on thee.

  Buss. Let it shine: 55

  I am no mote to play in’t, as great men are.

  Mons. Callest thou men great in state, motes in the sunne?

  They say so that would have thee freeze in shades,

  That (like the grosse Sicilian gurmundist)

  Empty their noses in the cates they love, 60

  That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring

  Light to the banquet Fortune sets before thee

  And thou wilt loath leane darknesse like thy death.

  Who would beleeve thy mettall could let sloth

  Rust and consume it? If Themistocles 65

  Had liv’d obscur’d thus in th’Athenian State,

  Xerxes had made both him and it his slaves.

  If brave Camillus had lurckt so in Rome,

  He had not five times beene Dictator there,

  Nor foure times triumpht. If Epaminondas 70

  (Who liv’d twice twenty yeeres obscur’d in Thebs)

  Had liv’d so
still, he had beene still unnam’d,

  And paid his country nor himselfe their right:

  But putting forth his strength he rescu’d both

  From imminent ruine; and, like burnisht steele, 75

  After long use he shin’d; for as the light

  Not only serves to shew, but render us