TEACHING AND DELIGHTING IN THE FAERIE QUEENE:

AN ANALYSIS OF SPENSER'S USE OF THE TWO RENAISSANCE

CRITICAL IDEALS

by

JOAN LENA PAVELICH

B.A., University of B r i t i s h Columbia

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF

THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
MASTER OF ARTS

in

The Department of English

We accept t h i s thesis as conforming to the

required standard

THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA

May, 1964
 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t of

the requirements f o r an advanced degree at the U n i v e r s i t y of •

B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y

a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and study, I f u r t h e r agree that per-

m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e copying of t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y

purposes may be granted by the Head of my Department or by

his representatives. I t i s understood t h a t , c o p y i n g or p u b l i -

c a t i o n of t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l not be allowed

without my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n *

Department of : JZjg^Li^k

The U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia,
Vancouver 8, Canada
 DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY

of

DR. ROGER L. CLUBB, B.A., PH.D.

Department of English

1959-1963

IN WHOSE SEMINAR

STUDIES IN ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE

THIS THESIS HAD ITS ORIGIN

 ABSTRACT

This analysis attempts to establish that the Faerie

Queene i s a poem written on the basis of the two main ideals

of Renaissance c r i t i c i s m , teaching and delighting. I t

begins by showing that Elizabethan c r i t i c s state the prim-

ary importance of the two ideals, but never explain how they

used them as p r a c t i c a l guides f o r writing poetry. Even

Spenser himself, though he wrote a long preface t o the

Faerie Queene, never explains how he intended to teach and

delight i n the poem. Furthermore, no c r i t i c s since the

Elizabethan have demonstrated adequately how Spenser applied

the ideals. To answer t h i s question, the analysis seeks

s p e c i f i c answers throughout the Faerie Queene. Yet a l l such

evidence cannot add up to a complete solution of the poem,

f o r i n i t s thousands of l i n e s i t accomplishes many purposes

and lends i t s e l f to many analyses. Nevertheless the two

ideals of teaching and delighting represent one important

approach which o f f e r s one basis f o r understanding the poem.

The analysis divides the poem into two l e v e l s ,

narrative and a l l e g o r i c a l , and approaches f i r s t through the

simpler narrative. The discussion begins with Canto One

Book One and demonstrates that Spenser unfolds a story which

ordinary readers can follow with e f f i c i e n c y and i n t e r e s t .

 ii

He sets i t i n a deliberately a r t i f i c i a l world which

allows incidents and persons to be both natural and unreal;

He reveals i t s main c o n f l i c t with a s u f f i c i e n t l y brisk pace,

and weaves that c o n f l i c t firmly through the i n t e r a c t i o n of

character and event. With t h i s simple s t o r y - t e l l i n g l e v e l

Spenser therefore attempts to r e t a i n the attention of

ordinary readers to h i s poem, and hereby reveals h i s con-

ception of delighting to l i e mainly i n i n t e r e s t i n g h i s

readers, i n motivating them to read on. The analysis also

shows that he begins his teaching within the narrative l e v e l

through such obviously important instruments as h i s main

characters, who teach because of the kinds of persons they

are and the kinds of c o n f l i c t s i n which they become involved.

The analysis turns then to the allegory, and since

t h i s i s a more complex l e v e l , attempts f i r s t to o f f e r a

simple d e f i n i t i o n of allegory. From t h i s base, the argument

shows i n d e t a i l how Spenser painstakingly develops an

a l l e g o r i c a l incident. He i n s e r t s i t c a r e f u l l y within a story

sequence; he foreshadows i t s coming; at exactly the right

moment he arranges a marked, symbolic s h i f t from the narra-

t i v e world into the a l l e g o r i c a l and, l a s t l y , he guides h i s

reader into the scene by a s e r i e s of i n t r i c a t e clues. In

such ways Spenser therefore organizes the mechanics of

allegory so h i s reader can follow him e f f i c i e n t l y and, at

the same time, so designs h i s clues that he motivates the

 iii

reader to want to pursue h i s meanings throughout the entire

scene. Hence on the a l l e g o r i c a l l e v e l , too, the poet's

conception of delighting l i e s i n capturing reader i n t e r e s t

and here, too, he i s able to use the very essence of h i s

pleasure to accomplish h i s teaching. But the allegory

teaches and delights more subtly, and thereby retains the

attention of even the most advanced reader. To i l l u s t r a t e

t h i s most subtle l e v e l f u l l y , the analysis w i l l discuss

both humorous and serious a l l e g o r i c a l scenes.

 CONTENTS

Page

Introduction 1

Chapter I 17

Chapter I I 39

Chapter I I I 53

Chapter IV 69

Conclusion 96

Bibliography 103
 It i s p r o b a b l y s e l f - e v i d e n t t h a t Spenser had i n mind

the two Renaissance i d e a l s , t e a c h i n g a n d d e l i g h t i n g , when he

w r o t e t h e F a e r i e Queene, b u t t h i s s t a t e m e n t r a i s e s a t o n c e

the f a r f r o m e v i d e n t q u e s t i o n o f what u s i n g t h e s e ideals

r e a l l y means. Most c r i t i c s w i l l admit t h a t t h e F a e r i e Queene

i s S p e n s e r ' s m a s t e r p i e c e a n d t h a t i t h a s b e e n t e a c h i n g and

d e l i g h t i n g u s i n many ways f o r 350 years, yet surprisingly

few s t u d i e s a c t u a l l y e x a m i n e t h e poem t h o r o u g h l y on t h e basis

of t h e two ideals. We might e x p e c t t h a t a good d e a l o f t h e ex-

p l a n a t i o n f o r t h r e e and a h a l f c e n t u r i e s o f p o p u l a r i t y would

lie i n Spenser's a b i l i t y t o achieve these imposing aims,

would l i e i n t h e answer t o such q u e s t i o n s as whether he con-

s i d e r e d b o t h t h e t e a c h i n g and t h e d e l i g h t i n g e q u a l l y i m p o r t -

ant, o r how he made e a c h c o n t r i b u t e t o t h e o t h e r , o r w h a t he

really did, specifically, t o t e a c h and d e l i g h t h i s r e a d e r s .

Fundamental as such q u e s t i o n s a r e , however, t h e y remain

l a r g e l y unanswered, f o r nowhere, n e i t h e r i n Spenser's time

n o r a t any t i m e s i n c e , does c r i t i c i s m explain thoroughly how

t h e s e i m p o r t a n t R e n a i s s a n c e i d e a l s a p p l y t o t h e F a e r i e Queene.

Elizabethan writers, o f c o u r s e , do n o t o f f e r detailed

e x a m i n a t i o n s o f p a r t i c u l a r poems. Their c r i t i c i s m i s l i t t l e

more t h a n a s e r i e s o f t r a c t s , p r e f a c e s , even l e t t e r s , that

m e r e l y a s s e r t o v e r and o v e r a g a i n p o e t r y ' s i d e a l s . An early

s t a t e m e n t o f t e a c h i n g and d e l i g h t i n g , f o r i n s t a n c e , comes i n

1570 i n R o g e r Ascham's The Scholemaster, which i s r e a l l y a

 2

t r e a t i s e about education w i t h o n l y a few s e c t i o n s on liter-

ature. H e r e i n Ascham f i r s t l o o k s w i t h d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n on the

London w i t s around him as " r a s h i g n o r a n t heads" producing

"lewd and rude rhymes," then blames degenerate Italian

i n f l u e n c e s f o r t h i s s t a t e o f p o e t s and p o e t r y , "much by ex-

ample o f i l l life, b u t more by p r e c e p t e s o f f o n d e b o o k e s ,

of l a t e t r a n s l a t e d out of I t a l i a n i n t o E n g l i s h , sold i n every

shop i n L o n d o n , commended by h o n e s t t i t l e s the soner to

c o r r u p t h o n e s t m a n e r s " and as a r e s u l t exhorts h i s f e l l o w s to

t u r n f r o m London t o c l a s s i c a l Greece and Rome, where A s c h a m

can p o i n t t o t h e i d e a l p o e t w r i t i n g i d e a l p o e t r y , he "who is

able always, i n a l lmatters, to teache p l a i n l i e , to delite

p l e a s a n t l i e , and t o c a r y away b y f o r c e o f w i s e t a l k e , a l l

t h a t s h a l l h e a r e o r r e a d him.""'"

The critics c o m i n g a f t e r Ascham t h e n c o n t i n u e t o r e -

i t e r a t e t h e two i d e a l s w i t h o u t r e l a t i n g them s p e c i f i c a l l y to

t h e F a e r i e Queene o r t o any o t h e r E l i z a b e t h a n poems. Sidney,

whose An A p o l o g i e f o r P o e t r i e (15$3) i s u n d o u b t e d l y the best

known o f t h e s e essays, a l s o maintains that poetry should

" d e l i g h t and t e a c h , a n d d e l i g h t t o move men t o t a k e t h a t good-

nes i n hande, which w i t h o u t d e l i g h t t h e y would f l y e as from a

s t r a n g e r ; and t e a c h , t o make t h e m know t h a t g o o d n e s w h e r e u n t o

t h e y a r e moved." He d o e s , h o w e v e r , t a k e t h e t i m e t o develop

In Elizabethan C r i t i c a l Essays, e d . G. Gregory Smith

( L o n d o n , 1 9 3 7 ) , I , 31, 2, 22.
 3

e a c h a i m more f u l l y . To h i m , the teaching c o n s i s t s of "the

k n o w l e d g e o f man's s e l f e , i n t h e E t h i c k e and p o l i t i c k con-

s i d e r a t i o n , w i t h t h e end of w e l l d o o i n g and not of well

k n o w i n g o n e l y , " and t h e d e l i g h t i n g becomes t h e v a r i o u s ad-

v a n t a g e s p o e t r y h a s t o a t t r a c t and h o l d a r e a d e r ' s a t t e n t i o n

to t h i s k n o w l e d g e , "words s e n t i n d e l i g h t f u l l p r o p o r t i o n , "

and "the i n c h a u n t i n g s k i l l o f Musicke."^

A final e x a m p l e i s Ben Jonson. The best source for

his i d e a s on n o n - d r a m a t i c p o e t r y i s no essay or p r e f a c e , but

r a t h e r h i s n o t e b o o k , T i m b e r , and h e r e J o n s o n a l s o ends by

s t a t i n g t h e i d e a l s w i t h o u t a p p l y i n g them practically.

P o e t r y and P i c t u r e a r e A r t s o f a l i k e n a t u r e . . . .
F o r t h e y b o t h i n v e n t , f a i n e , and d e v i s e many
t h i n g s .... They b o t h b e h o l d p l e a s u r e and p r o -
f i t a s t h e i r common O b j e c t . ...^

It i s S p e n s e r a l o n e who d i s c u s s e s t h e F a e r i e Queene i n

any detail. What he says i s a l l too b r i e f , yet e s s e n t i a l f o r

understanding t h e poem, b e c a u s e he n o t only asserts h i s

a l l e g i a n c e t o t h e i d e a l s o f t e a c h i n g and d e l i g h t i n g but also

s t a t e s h i s i n t e n t i o n o f a c c o m p l i s h i n g them i n t h e poem.

A c t u a l l y , h i s e a r l i e s t comments a p p e a r i n t h e Spenser-Harvey

correspondence. Modern c r i t i c s o f t e n c i t e them as p r o o f that

2
Smith, pp. 159, 161, 172.

•^In C r i t i c a l E s s a y s o f t h e S e v e n t e e n t h Century, ed.

J o h n E. S p r i n g a r n ( O x f o r d , 1908), I , 29.
 4

Harvey thought l i t t l e o f t h e poem a n d w a r n e d S p e n s e r against

c o n t i n u i n g w i t h i t , ^ - b u t t h e m o s t s e n s i b l e c o n c l u s i o n t o be

d r a w n f r o m t h e s e comments i s t h a t t h e y a r e a n n o y i n g l y b r i e f .

In A p r i l , 1580, I m m e r i t o p r o m i s e s t o f o r w a r d t h e F a e r i e Queene

and a s k s f o r h i s f r i e n d ' s j u d g e m e n t w h i c h " I e x t r a o r d i n a r i l y

desire." I n r e p l y Harvey n o t e s Spenser's l o o k i n g towards

A r i o s t o , whom " y o u w i l n e e d e s seeme t o e m u l a t e , " y e t f e e l s

s p e c i f i c a l l y t h a t t h e N i n e M u s e s come " n e e r e r A r i o s t o e s

Comoedies, e y t h e r f o r t h e f i n e n e s s e o f p l a u s i b l e Elocution,

or t h e rareness o f P o e t i c a l Invention; than that E l v i s h Queene

doth t o h i s Orlando F u r i o s o . " I n o v e r a l l o p i n i o n he i s

similarly noncommittal.

But I w i l n o t stand g r e a t l y w i t h you i n your

owne m a t t e r s . I f s o be t h e F a e r y e Queene be
f a i r e r i n y o u r e i e t h a n t h e N i n e Muses, a n d
H o b g o b l i n r u n n e away w i t h t h e G a r l a n d f r o m
A p o l l o . £.

Thus h i s w a r n i n g amounts t o n o t h i n g more t h a n a l a c k o f

e n t h u s i a s m f o r t h e F a e r i e Queene ,and s i n c e n e i t h e r h e n o r

S p e n s e r g i v e s a n y e v i d e n c e o f t h e poem's s t a t e a t t h i s t i m e ,

ten years b e f o r e i t s p u b l i c a t i o n date, Harvey's o p i n i o n may be

justified.

S p e n s e r ' s d e t a i l e d comments a p p e a r i n t h e " L e t t e r t o

^"An e x a m p l e i s T u c k e r B r o o k e i n A L i t e r a r y H i s t o r y o f
E n g l a n d , e d . A l b e r t C. Baugh ('New Y o r k , 1948), I I , 496.

5"Three P r o p e r , a n d W i t t i e , F a m i l i a r L e t t e r s , " i n The

P o e t i c a l Works o f Edmund S p e n s e r , e d . James C. S m i t h a n d E r n e s t
de S e l i n c o u r t ( L o n d o n , 1947), p p . 612, 628.
 5

Ralegh." Critics, of course, disagree i n t h e i r opinion as

t o w h e t h e r i t s a y s e n o u g h a b o u t t h e poem t o s e r v e as an

adequate i n t r o d u c t i o n f o r the reader. Nevertheless, read care-

fully, i t r e v e a l s on t h e one hand t h a t Spenser's b a s i c pur-

p o s e was indeed to teach and d e l i g h t , and on t h e o t h e r that

failure to accept t h i s t w o f o l d p u r p o s e c a u s e s most o f the

critical d i s u n i o n about the "Letter" itself. Spenser begins

by c a l l i n g t h e F a e r i e Queene a " c o n t i n u e d A l l e g o r y , or darke

c o n c e i t , " and because a l l a l l e g o r i e s are e a s i l y misconstrued,

states h i s general i n t e n t i o n f o r t h e w h o l e poem: " t o f a s h i o n a

gentleman or noble person i n vertuous and gentle discipline."

To make t h i s end more " p l a u s i b l e and p l e a s i n g " he has coloured

i t w i t h "an historicall fiction, t h e w h i c h t h e most p a r t o f men

d e l i g h t to read, r a t h e r f o r v a r i e t y of matter, then f o r profite

of the ensample." For t h i s h i s t o r i c a l c o l o u r i n g he chose

K i n g A r t h u r , whose e x c e l l e n c e had a l r e a d y b e e n e s t a b l i s h e d by

many e a r l i e r w r i t e r s , y e t whose p e r s o n w o u l d be f r e e from the

6

" d a u n g e r o f e n v y , and s u s p i t i o n of present time." Here then,

and a t o n c e , a r e h i s two aims. He w i s h e s t o f o r m a gentleman

disciplined i n v i r t u e , that i s , v i r t u o u s both i n thought and

c o n d u c t , and the f i c t i o n w i l l help p r i m a r i l y because i t i s

pleasurable reading.

"A L e t t e r o f t h e A u t h o r s e x p o u n d i n g h i s w h o l e i n t e n t i o n
i n t h e c o u r s e o f t h i s w o r k e , " i n S m i t h and de S e l i n c o u r t ,
p. 407.
 6

Yet a c r i t i c l i k e Emile L e g o u i s , f o r example, still

c l a i m s t h e poem's

r e a l beauty i s screened by i t s p r e f a c e , i n
w h i c h t h e p o e t e x p l a i n s h i s v i r t u o u s d e s i g n ....
S p e n s e r h i m s e l f i n n o c e n t l y m i s l e d t h e p u b l i c ....
He assumed t h e g r a v e a i r s o f a p r e a c h e r , y e t
could not sustain the part u n f l i n c h i n g l y . This
a d m i r a b l e p a i n t e r and e n c h a n t i n g m u s i c i a n posed
as a p r o f e s s o r o f m o r a l s . T h e r e f o r e he h a s g i v e n
l i t t l e s a t i s f a c t i o n , except t o a few u n e x a c t i n g
s o u l s , among t h o s e who s e e k d o c t r i n e i n a b o o k , a n d
he h a s a l i e n a t e d t h o s e who r e a d v e r s e f o r p u r e
pleasure.-

I t would seem, f i r s t l y , t h a t L e g o u i s does n o t i n t e r p r e t Spen-

ser's aim as t w o f o l d y e t , secondly, f i n d s him p l a y i n g t h e

double r o l e o f p r e a c h e r and e n c h a n t e r and t h e n , t h i r d l y and

most s u r p r i s i n g l y , seems t o q u e s t i o n w h e t h e r t h e E l i z a b e t h a n

t w o f o l d purpose i s a s a t i s f a c t o r y one. Apparently Legouis

a s s u m e s t h a t e x a c t i n g p e o p l e p r e f e r t o be t a u g h t i n p r o s e a n d

to read poetry f o r pleasure. P o s s i b l y a l s o he f e e l s Spenser

i s unable either t o teach the l o f t y morality outlined i nthe

" L e t t e r , " o r t o p l e a s e i n s u c h a way t h a t t h e r e a d e r w i s h e s t o

l e a r n t h e m o r a l i t y , a l t h o u g h both these c o n c l u s i o n s would have

to be p r o v e n f r o m t h e poem i t s e l f . A t any r a t e , L e g o u i s fails

to admit t h a t t h e " L e t t e r " does s t a t e t h e t w o f o l d purpose,

and, e v e n a f t e r r e c o g n i z i n g t h a t t h e poem a t t e m p t s b o t h t o

A History of English Literature, trans. H e l e n D. Irvine,

6th E d . ( L o n d o n , 1945), p. 279.
 7

teach and d e l i g h t , proceeds t o c a s t i g a t e Spenser f o r doing

w h a t he s e t o u t t o do i n t h e f i r s t place. Such n e g l e c t o f

Spenser's stated d e s i r e t o please i s a l l t o o common i n c r i t i c a l

evaluations o f t h e " L e t t e r " and l e a d s a l m o s t i n e v i t a b l y t o

t h e r e s t r i c t e d v i e w t h a t S p e n s e r was a t a l l t i m e s s e r i o u s ,

even solemn. Critics, who seem s o f o n d of noting Spenser's

sane mind, v e r y often f a i l to appreciate t h a t he i s s a n e

enough t o p r a c t i s e t h e f u n d a m e n t a l maxim t h a t t e a c h i n g i s

m o s t e f f e c t i v e when t h e l e a r n e r i s e n j o y i n g himself.

A n o t h e r a s p e c t o f S p e n s e r ' s common s e n s e a p p r o a c h

w h i c h w r i t e r s seem l o t h t o r e c o g n i z e involves Arthur.

B a s i c a l l y , he was c h o s e n b e c a u s e he w o u l d b e " p l a u s i b l e a n d

p l e a s i n g , " t h a t i s , he w o u l d t e a c h through v i r t u e and d e l i g h t

through f i c t i o n . Spenser i s then c a r e f u l t o r e i t e r a t e this

b a s i c p u r p o s e t h r e e more t i m e s . Arthur w i l l serve as "the

image o f a b r a v e k n i g h t , p e r f e c t e d i n t h e t w e l v e private

morall vertues." Such a p o r t r a y a l w i l l promote v i r t u e be-

c a u s e i t i s a l w a y s more e f f i c i e n t t e a c h i n g " d o c t r i n e by en-

sample, t h e n by r u l e . So h a v e I l a b o u r e d t o doe i n t h e p e r s o n

of Arthure." T h e n , most s p e c i f i c a l l y , he s a y s , " i n t h e person

of P r i n c e Arthure I sette f o r t h magnificence i n p a r t i c u l a r ,

which vertue ... i s t h e p e r f e c t i o n o f a l l t h e r e s t ... t h e r e -

f o r e i n t h e whole c o u r s e I mention t h e deedes o f A r t h u r e

 8

applyable to that vertue." However such a commentator as

Tucker Brooke w i l l s t i l l say the poet was

contemplating propagandist poetry of the

most flagrant kind, i n which Leicester, t y p i f i e d
as Prince Arthur, should achieve Gloriana by
h i s matchless exploits, and then, r u l i n g as King
Arthur, should with her lead Fairyland to triumph
over the Paynim King (Philip I I ) .

In short, Brooke r e s t r i c t s h i s conception of Arthur to t h i s

one p a r t i c u l a r contemporary f i g u r e . Undoubtedly Arthur

suggests Leicester at times, but he also suggests very much

more. Moreover the "Letter" i n no way r e s t r i c t s Arthur to

any one contemporary man, rather i t stresses that Arthur's

role i s so complex as to make him one of the main i n s t r u -

ments through which the poem w i l l teach and d e l i g h t . Yet

Brooke f i r s t assumes that Arthur i s Leicester, then uses

t h i s l i m i t e d assumption as a basis f o r i n t e r p r e t i n g the poem

and, when he finds h i s interpretation unsatisfactory, con-

cludes that "the p o l i t i c o - t h e o l o g i c a l purposes of the poem —

i s now too confused f o r l u c i d interpretation.9 Such a con-

elusion indicates that Brooke, l i k e Legouis, f a i l s to accept

what Spenser says i n the "Letter" about the teaching and

delighting.

The key to understanding the "Letter," then, l i e s i n

Smith and de Selincourt, p. 407.

Baugh, pp. 496, 498.

 9

remembering always that Spenser's aim i s twofold. Within

t h i s completed framework, the remaining issues of the

introduction also f i t . F i r s t comes Spenser's reference to

l i t e r a r y sources. He w i l l use Homer, V i r g i l , Ariosto and

Tasso, but he w i l l not seek to encompass a l l t h e i r achievement

in h i s one poem; rather he w i l l imitate t h e i r conception that

a super-hero should show v i r t u e i n private l i f e and e f f e c t i v e

leadership i n public l i f e . In other words, Spenser makes

no claim to writing a c l a s s i c a l epic; he chooses one epic

quality from those "antique poets h i s t o r i c a l ! , " and applies

i t to h i s super-hero, Arthur. Second i s the issue of the

Aristotelian virtues. Again, Spenser does not profess to

absorb h i s whole source, to restate A r i s t o t l e i n poetry. He

w i l l choose "twelve private morall vertues, as A r i s t o t l e hath

devised,'? that i s , twelve private virtues very much l i k e those

discussed "according to A r i s t o t l e and the r e s t . " These de-

vices too w i l l be contained f i r s t i n the "plausible and

pleasing" Arthur.^

The t h i r d issue i s Spenser's j u s t i f i c a t i o n of h i s

a l l e g o r i c a l device. He knows "how doubtfully a l l Allegories

may be construed," and he admits that to some people " t h i s

Methode w i l l seeme displeasaunt, which had rather have good d i s

c i p l i n e delivered p l a i n l y i n way of precepts, or sermoned at

large ... then thus clowdily enwrapped i n a 'Allgrociaal de-

vises." To t h i s opinion, however, we can almost hear Sidney's

^ S m i t h and de Selincourt, p. 407.

 10

reply that

the Philosopher teacheth, but he teacheth

obscurely, so as the learned onely can under-
stande him, that i s to say, he teacheth the©
that are already taught; but the Poet i s the
foode f o r the tenderest stomacks, the Poet i s
indeed the right Popular Philosopher-,....

Indeed, Spenser argues i n language almost echoing The

Apologie that Xenophon i s always preferred to Plato and the

Faerie Queene*s moral allegory i s preferable to philosophic

prose, on the basis that the former i s more " d e l i g h t f u l l and

-12
pleasing to commune sence."

The l a s t issue i s the narrative sequence f o r the t o t a l

twelve books. As the "Letter" outlines i t , the story begins

with Gloriana's feast and proceeds chronologically through the

twelve separate quests. However, d i f f i c u l t y arises f o r the

reader because Spenser does not write the poem i n t h i s chron-

o l o g i c a l sequence.

For the Methode of a Poet h i s t o r i c a l i s not

such, as of an Historiographer. For an H i s t o r i o -
grapher discourseth of affayres orderly as they
were donne ... but a Poet thrusteth i n t o the middest,
even where i t most concerneth him.

Spenser admits the possible danger that the "beginning of the

whole worke seemeth abrupte," but s t i l l f e e l s j u s t i f i e d i n

his device because, "recoursing to the thinges forepaste, and

Gregory G. Smith, p. 167.

Smith and de Selincourt, p. 408.

 11

divining of thinges to come" i t allows him to make a "pleasing

analysis of a l l . " ^ 3 In other words, he i s again c a r e f u l l y

pointing out that his purpose i s twofold. He does not wish

merely to t e l l a story, he wishes to t e l l i t i n the most

pleasing way possible.

Furthermore, i t i s the d e l i g h t i n g which Spenser stresses

most i n the "Letter." With i t s every issue he emphasizes that

his f i r s t step w i l l be to please and h i s second to teach, and

simply because he i s sensible enough to r e a l i z e that he must

f i r s t please h i s readers before he can teach them anything.

Thus he i s not so concerned with how much he can take from

A r i s t o t l e or how c l o s e l y he can hold to chronological order.

Rather he wants to insure, above a l l , that what he does with

A r i s t o t l e and chronology w i l l be d e l i g h t f u l . I t i s t h i s stress

on delight that h i s c r i t i c s seem, to miss. They look more f o r

what material he may be using, than f o r how he shapes i t . But

i t i s the reader Spenser has i n mind always. It i s h i s

pleasure and h i s p r o f i t he stresses i n the "Letter," i t i s him

to whom he i s speaking i n the "Letter." The "Letter," i n

f a c t , serves as an adequate introduction f o r h i s reader, i f

not f o r h i s c r i t i c s .

Yet no introduction t e l l s a l l , and three fundamental

questions remain. Certainly the "Letter" indicates the primary

Smith and de Selincourt, p. 408

 12

importance of the two i d e a l s , yet i t o f f e r s no d e t a i l s as to

what Spenser d i d with them. He makes an emphatic promise, but

leaves the poem f o r us to read. Hence the l o g i c a l place to

seek answers about whether he considered both the teaching and

the delighting equally important, or how he made each con-

t r i b u t e to the other, or what he r e a l l y did, s p e c i f i c a l l y , to

teach and delight h i s readers i s i n the 350 years of c r i t i c i s m

which follow the Faerie Queene.

For 250 of those years the subject has already been

treated i n Robert J . Armstrong's painstaking study of

"Spenserian a l l u s i o n s and C r i t i c i s m " from 1600 to 1850. This

writer organized h i s search into f i v e l i t e r a r y periods,

examined each i n turn, and stopped at 1850 because the main

trends of c r i t i c i s m "had already by 1850 been f i r m l y estab-

lished."^ These trends are mainly four. F i r s t l y and most

obviously i s the fact that evaluation of Spenser i s l a r g e l y

evaluation of the Faerie Queene. Secondly i s the nature of that

evaluation. In every period c r i t i c s spend about nine-tenths

of t h e i r time praising the Faerie Queene i n general and about

one-tenth blaming i t i n p a r t i c u l a r s . I t i s these p a r t i c u l a r s ,

of course, which bear the importance, f o r they are the actual

facts of the c r i t i c i s m .

^ " A Study of the Popularity of Edmund Spenser as

Revealed by A l l u s i o n and C r i t i c i s m between the Years 1600 and
1850, with an Appendix Added to Show the Extent of Spenser
Study and Scholarship i n Leading North American U n i v e r s i t i e s
and Colleges Today," (U.B.C., 1951), p. 1. A l l the information
about c r i t i c i s m of the Faerie Queene up to 1850 i s taken from
t h i s thesis;.
 13

Beginning i n the period from 1600 to 1650, Armstrong

finds that writers e s t a b l i s h only two p a r t i c u l a r areas of

censure, the Faerie Queene's antique d i c t i o n and complex

allegory, but these are the two main c r i t i c a l categories that

persist, with surprising consistency, r i g h t through to 1850.

Ben Jonson, f o r example, makes his blunt remark i n Timber

that "Spenser i n a f f e c t i n g the Ancients, writ no language,"

and S i r William Davenant describes the allegory as a "Continu-

ance of extraordinary dreams ... And these moral visions are

just of so much use to human a p p l i c a t i o n , as painted h i s t o r y . "

Every one of the four remaining periods, Armstrong continues,

repeats a d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with d i c t i o n and allegory and usu-

a l l y also adds censure i n a few other p a r t i c u l a r areas. For

example, Dryden, a neo-classic c r i t i c , complains that "there

i s no uniformity i n the design of Spenser," and H a z l i t t , a

c r i t i c of the Romantic period, claims the complicated stanza

"seduced" Spenser into a "certain licence of expression."

F i n a l l y the Victorians, Armstrong notes, add further

criticisms. Macaulay, f o r example, laments that "We become

sick of cardinal virtues and deadly s i n s , " and Henry Hallam

c a l l s Spenser's language "repulsive" and prefers s t o r i e s "far

more stimulating than the legends of Faeryland." Such are

Armstrong's f a c t s , and obviously the fourth main trend they

reveal i s that few writers i n any period attempted to discuss

the Faerie Queene i n r e l a t i o n to those fundamental ideals,

teaching and delighting. The omission i s perhaps s u r p r i s i n g ,

bur Armstrong's thoroughness i s a guarantee that i t e x i s t s .

Thus the only place l e f t to seek s p e c i f i c answers

as to how Spenser works toward the two i d e a l s i n the poem i s

modern c r i t i c i s m . Most recent c r i t i c s s t i l l grant the Faerie

Queene i t s nine-tenths, one-tenth r a t i o of praise and blame,

but they often seem to be excessively concerned with mere

mechanical problems and spend the largest part of their time

analysing ever more f i n e l y the same topics that Armstrong

noted, topics l i k e d i c t i o n and stanza, or the mechanics of

allegory, or the sources of the virtues and sins. In 1926,

f o r instance, Padelford studied the d i c t i o n by counting words

and discovering that there are four and one-half times

as many compound words i n Book I as i n Book VI. He con-

cluded that Spenser progressively abandons such cumbersome

words to increase narrative speed.^5 Then i n 1944, f o r example,

Stein studied the stanza by o f f e r i n g many detailed i l l u s t r a -

tions of how Spenser uses rhyme and a l l i t e r a t i o n to effect

smooth continuity.^-6 Such precise f a c t s , derived from r i g i d

examination of the poem i t s e l f , constitute the l a r g e s t con-

t r i b u t i o n modern c r i t i c i s m makes to our understanding of the

Faerie Queene. This information i s invaluable, but to rest

with i t i s to put the cart before the horse. Surely we analyse

^F.M. Padelford and W.C. Maxwell, "The Compound Words

1

i n Spenser's Poetry," JEGP, XXV (1926), 506-507.

•^Arnold Stein, "Stanza Continuity i n the Faerie Queene,"
MLN, LIX (1944), 114-118.
 15

i n t o d e t a i l s to see how they are u n i f i e d into a whole, and i f

the poem's primary aims are to teach and delight, one task

facing the modern fact-gatherers i s to e s t a b l i s h s p e c i f i c a l l y

the extent to which teaching and delighting govern Spenser's

choice of d e t a i l s and the ways i n which they unify the poem.

When c r i t i c s do base t h e i r interpretations on the

poem's express purposes they too often forget, l i k e Brooke

and Legouis, that Spenser's purpose i s twofold. As a r e s u l t

they look f o r what they think Spenser i s t r y i n g to teach and

forget about the delighting altogether. As l a t e as 1957, f o r

example, Guth says "There are good reasons f o r t r y i n g to r e -

create the unity of the poem by ascertaining i t s didactic

message and then i n t e r p r e t i n g i t from the point of view of i t s

moral i n t e n t i o n . " Naturally, t h i s stress on the morality

alone allows him to argue comfortably f o r some time. He

reduces the poem's m u l t i p l i c i t y to the general formula of a

knight exposed to problems i n conduct each demanding a moral

choice. But then, as he applies the formula s p e c i f i c a l l y to

the Faerie Queene he finds that he has to q u a l i f y i t . "Even

when the moral meaning of an episode i s unmistakeable i t i s

sometimes overshadowed i f not contradicted by sensory and

emotional appeal." In short, Guth sees the sense appeal i n

opposition to the morality. He points to the " l a s c i v i o u s

languor of the Bower of B l i s s " and the "mere physical thrill

of Error spewing f i l t h " as episodes which "make the reader

 16

suspect that there are certain elements i n the poet's creative

imagination which are on the side of the d e v i l without the

17
poet's knowing i t . " Guth i s responding to the poem's phys-

i c a l t h r i l l s without r e a l i z i n g that he i s supposed t o . He has

forgotten that Spenser planned not only to t e l l him about

morality but, more importantly, to arouse him into f e e l i n g

r e a l l y concerned about i t . Guth's revulsion at Error and the

Bower of B l i s s i s surely just what Spenser intended. But

Guth, l i k e Legouis and l i k e Brooke, has forgotten Spenser's

stress on moving his readers as well as informing them.

The question, then, i s s t i l l open. How, i n the Faerie

Queene. does Spenser teach and delight? We hear a good deal

of praise, we receive a good deal of fact, but we never get

adequate answers to the fundamental questions. There remains

only one method of ascertaining whether Spenser considered both

the teaching and the delighting equally important, or how he

made each contribute to the other, or what he r e a l l y did,

s p e c i f i c a l l y , to teach and delight h i s readers; that method

i s a close examination of the Faerie Queene i t s e l f .

H.P. Guth, "Unity and M u l t i p l i c i t y i n Spenser's

Faerie Queene," Anglia, LXXIV (1957), 1-15.
 17

CHAPTER I

Before any such s p e c i f i c examination, however, we

should s t i l l pause b r i e f l y to r e a l i z e the p r a c t i c a l task

Spenser sets f o r himself. I t i s i n s u f f i c i e n t to note gen-

e r a l l y that the poet plans to accomplish Sidney's two l o f t y aims.

Nor i s i t even s u f f i c i e n t to say more s p e c i f i c a l l y that he

decided to overgo Ariosto—who had blended c l a s s i c a l epic

and chivalrous romance into one of the most popular, that i s

"pleasing," Renaissance poems—by adding to Ariosto's union

English moral allegory. To appreciate Spenser's problem we

have to look through such t y p i c a l c r i t i c a l language and rem-

ember the "Letter's" emphasis on the noble reader, the learner.

Everything—sources, subject matter and f o r m — i s j u s t i f i e d

i n terms of the learner and h i s learning. Again, Spenser i s

very sensible, one i s tempted to say modern, i n t h i s approach.

A t r a d i t i o n a l view would have l a i d stress on the teacher,

would have merely ensured that a l l the facts of a compre-

hensive moral code were placed before the reader, and then

would have t r i e d to sugar-coat the p i l l with rather pleasant

poetry. But since Spenser's aim i s to change the reader

into a learner who a c t i v e l y wants to know, and i n the end w i l l

have absorbed so thoroughly that the morality i s part of h i s

thought and conduct, i t surely follows that he could not teach,

 18

that i s l e c t u r e or t e l l , i n the t r a d i t i o n a l sense. Lectur-

ing may be adequate f o r the learning of mathematics, but

accomplishes l i t t l e learning i n morality. How then could

he insure the reader's learning so well that the improvement

would be noticeable i n thought and conduct? The answer, of

course, i s that he could not insure h i s aim; no one has yet

been able to measure such moral progress. Therefore Spenser

did the only thing he could do, the thing we s t i l l strive

to do today; he turned his attention to motivating his

reader on the sensible basis that the more the reader wants

to learn, the better the chance he w i l l learn, and properly.

Hence again the " L e t t e r ' s " insistence that the f i r s t step

w i l l be to please and the second to teach.

Probably i t i s more useful at t h i s point to rephrase

a l i t t l e and say that Spenser's general aim i s to cause the

reader to learn; h i s two s p e c i f i c methods are teaching, or

providing adequate knowledge, and pleasing, or motivating

the reader as much as possible. In t h i s l i g h t both methods

become v i t a l ; neither can be considered i n any way subsidiary

to the other. A s p e c i f i c examination of the text should

therefore not seek to prove whether Spenser succeeds i n h i s

general aim, but rather should seek to f i n d what he does

with h i s two methods. Thus the examination should first

accept Spenser's basic assumption that he had to motivate,

 19

and then f i n d s p e c i f i c a l l y what he d i d t o m o t i v a t e . To

the extent t h a t we s e e , s p e c i f i c a l l y , how Spenser shapes

e v e r y t h i n g , whether sources, s u b j e c t matter o r form, i n a

way t h a t motivates h i s r e a d e r , to t h a t extent do we satisfy

o u r s e l v e s t h a t he d i d , i n f a c t , c o n s i d e r the t e a c h i n g and

d e l i g h t i n g equally important.

Probably the e a s i e s t approach to the poem i s to start

simply and work inwards, as i t were; to s t a r t w i t h the

narrative "fiction." Spenser i s commonly accused here of

being a d i s a p p o i n t i n g s t o r y - t e l l e r , d e f i n i t e l y second r a t e

i n comparison to A r i o s t o . Seemingly h i s n a r r a t i v e does not

p l e a s e because, f o r i n s t a n c e , he i s too l i t t l e concerned

with r e a l i t y , both h i s people and h i s world b e i n g more a l l e -

g o r i c a l and a b s t r a c t than r e a l and a p p e a l i n g ; because h i s

a c t i o n i s slow, even i n a c t u a l f i g h t i n g scenes, and because

the very a c t i o n would seem t o break down i n a few p l a c e s

from i l l o g i c a l m o t i v a t i o n or f a i l u r e to complete i n d i v i d u a l

stories. Such c r i t i c i s m n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g , Spenser must have

intended to p l e a s e the r e a d e r , even on t h i s s i m p l e s t l e v e l ;

p o s s i b l y he i s more d e f t with h i s n a r r a t i v e t e c h n i q u e s than

he i s o f t e n given c r e d i t f o r . The most p r a c t i c a l p l a c e to

start examining i s at the v e r y b e g i n n i n g , and f o r the reason

t h a t Spenser h i m s e l f r e c o g n i z e s when he admits, w h i l e dis-

c u s s i n g h i s s t o r y o u t l i n e and j u s t i f y i n g h i s method o f

v i o l a t i n g c h r o n o l o g y , t h a t the opening may "seemeth abrupte

 20

and as depending on other antecedents."! In other words,

the beginning of the Faerie Queene i s the place where narra-

t i v e pleasure should be most d i f f i c u l t to a t t a i n .

Before a r r i v i n g at any estimation, however, one has to

admit two fundamental s t o r y - t e l l i n g conditions which Spenser

sets up, the f i r s t i n the preface and the second within the

opening few dozen stanzas. The f i r s t i s the knightly f i c t i o n

of the super-knight Arthur and twelve separate great knights.

Though i t i s obvious, one must r e c a l l that t h i s c h i v a l r i c

world i s two worlds at once. Each knight plays a character

i n the f i c t i o n and images a virtue i n the morality at the

same time. Thus Spenser combines h i s form and h i s subject

matter, h i s " h i s t o r i c a l l f i c t i o n " and h i s "private morall

vertues," h i s narrative and h i s allegory i n a most e f f i c i e n t

union. One i s tempted to add, an i n t e g r a l union also, even

without examination, since i t would seem to follow inevitably

that the reader cannot avoid learning morality as he reads

the fiction.

Indeed, the union appears s t i l l more e f f e c t i v e as

one meets the second narrative condition. Almost immedi-

ately i n the opening the reader recognizes Spenser's use

of the minstrel narrator device from medieval romance, i n

Smith and de Selincourt, p. 408.

 21

such obvious mechanics as the i n t r o d u c t o r y poem to each

book, the l a b e l l i n g of d i v i s i o n s w i t h i n a book as c a n t o s ,

the p r e l i m i n a r y q u a t r a i n b e f o r e each c a n t o , and the actual

f r e q u e n t i n t r u s i o n s of the m i n s t r e l i n t o the narrative.

Nor are these mechanics mere window d r e s s i n g . Spenser uses

the n a r r a t o r d e v i c e t o get out o f the poem, t o a l l o w the

m i n s t r e l t o take the work unto h i m s e l f , put i t i n h i s own

work and t e l l i t i n h i s own way. Of c o u r s e , Spenser peeks

through from time t o t i m e , but b a s i c a l l y a l l belongs to the

narrator, and the important t h i n g to n o t i c e i s t h a t the

world the m i n s t r e l c r e a t e s i s not the world o f r e a l i t y at

all, but a f a i r y w o r l d . The r e a d e r begins w i t h the"Faerie

Queene" t i t l e , moves t o the f i r s t " l e g e n d e , " passes through

the f i r s t proem which promises " F a e r i e k n i g h t s " i n "Fierce

warres and f a i t h f u l l l o v e s " from " a n t i q u e r o l l e s , " and then

proceeds i n t o the f i r s t canto,where he hears about a "Gentle

k n i g h t " who i s an " E l f e , " a "Dragon h o r r i b l e and s t e a r n e "

and a wicked m a g i c i a n . A l l t h i s i s reminiscent of a c h i l d ' s

n u r s e r y t a l e world wherein, surely, the reader expects to

meet c a s t l e s and monsters and magic and l a d i e s i n d i s t r e s s ;

expects, o b v i o u s l y t h a t matters w i l l o f t e n be governed by

the i l l o g i c a l , the s u r p r i s i n g and the sudden.

To these q u a l i t i e s one must a l s o add the minstrel's

attitude, which c o l o u r s the whole poem, but becomes most

important when he i n t r u d e s as n a r r a t o r and comments upon h i s

 22

story. He speaks, i n truth, with the deliberate mannerisms

of a professional recounting makebelieve. One can almost

see h i s hands gesturing, hear h i s voice quavering, as he adds

h i s own personal, intense, emotional reaction to Una's mis-

haps*

Nought i s there under heav'ns wide hollownesse

That moves more deare compassion of mind,
Then beautie brought t'unworthy wretchednesse
Through envies snares or fortunes freakes unkind

That my f r a i l e eyes these l i n e s with teares do steepe

( I . i i i . 1 . 1 - 4 , 2.3)

And i t a l l works; i t a l l charms. There i s no disparagement

whatever i n saying Spenser's narrative i s rooted i n f a i r y -

tale. In f a c t , h i s very makebelieve contributes much to the

e s s e n t i a l union of narrative with allegory. As Halliday

notes,

In successful allegory, the story on the primary

l e v e l i s dominated by the story on the second-
ary l e v e l , and i f the a l l e g o r i c a l meaning i s to
be kept clear, i t s n a t u r a l i s t i c counterpart
must pay f o r i t by surrendering r e a l i s t i c
p r o b a b i l i t y i n one way or another ... The
a l l e g o r i s t who admires realism i s constantly
pulled i n two directions at once

Spenser has therefore neatly avoided t h i s antagonistic

p u l l by r e j e c t i n g " r e a l i s t i c p r o b a b i l i t y " altogether and

choosing f a i r y t a l e f o r his "primary l e v e l . " He has also

once again very neatly f o r e s t a l l e d h i s c r i t i c s . He never

^E.M. Halliday, "Hemingway's Ambiguity: Symbolism

and Irony," Interpretations of American L i t e r a t u r e , ed.
C F . Feidelson and Paul Brodtkorb (New York, 1959), p. 301-; ^02
 23

professed to write a narrative about the r e a l world, and

thus can hardly be accounted guilty i f h i s people and events

do not hew e n t i r e l y to r e a l i t y . He has created his own world,

a magical, f l e x i b l e world, and the chances are very strong

that i t may also be a much more pleasing world.

At the opening of Book One the question then becomes

how Spenser uses t h i s f l e x i b l e world. He uses i t at once,

obviously, to present an almost p i c t o r i a l opening. There

i s the gentle Redcross knight, and the lovely, v e i l e d lady

mounted on snowy ass, leading a milky lamb and attended by

a laden dwarf. To any reader, t h i s picture i s obviously a

r e l i g i o u s one. In f a c t , Spenser states quite p l a i n l y that

t h i s i s the "Patron of true Holinesse," assigned by Gloriana,

"That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie lond," to the

"great adventure" of f i g h t i n g a "Dragon" and rescuing the

royal parents of t h i s Lady Una, or "Truth." In other words,

the reader knows exactly where he i s i n Spenser's morality;

he knows the subject of the lesson though not i t s d e t a i l s .

But t h i s introduction i s l i t t l e more than a moving pageant,

and even though i t i s an eye-catching one, surely no reader

w i l l enjoy the prospect of f a c i n g s i x "bookes" of dumb show

with r e l i g i o u s t i t l e s . He wants his narrative too, he wants

these people to come a l i v e . To the extent that Spenser can

succeed i n o f f e r i n g two abstractions as "vertuous" as H o l i -

 24

ness and Truth, while at the same time making them humanly-

interesting, he i s indeed a f l e x i b l e narrator.

Certainly the basis of making any character i n narra-

t i v e appear l i f e l i k e i s to make i t grow progressively

throughout the plot. I t should change, as a l l people do,

through exposure to other characters and events, become ever

more complex, ever more l i f e l i k e and ever more i n t e r e s t i n g .

I f the reader therefore asks himself whether he knows more

about Una and her knight as individuals by the end of Canto

Twelve than he did at the end of Canto One, the answer w i l l

obviously be yes. But such a general statement provides

no r e a l evidence of Spenser's achievement. Instead one

should see s p e c i f i c a l l y i n what ways Una and Redcross are

changed. To the extent that Spenser develops them through

t h e i r i n t e r a c t i o n with the people and events of Book One, to

that extent w i l l they appear to l i v e .

As a beginning, Canto One presents a surprising amount

of human d e t a i l about t h i s pageant-like p a i r . The .sudden

rainstorm drives them into the woods f o r shelter; an accident

perhaps, but r e a l l y no more sudden than the t y p i c a l a f t e r -

noon thunderstorm to be expected at the peak of "sommers

pride" (I.i.7.4) i n the very hot climate Spenser gives con-

s i s t e n t l y to t h i s never, never B r i t a i n land. There, l o s t ,

they f i n d the mysterious cave and, at once, the knight acts

with surprising rashness. Peaked with c u r i o s i t y , he dismounts

 25

hands h i s spear t o t h e Dwarf and approaches the cave. This

is a t a c t i c a l blunder. A proper knight does n o t abandon

both the dignity a n d t h e s u p e r i o r i t y i n power and manoeuvrabil-

ity that he g a i n s on horseback t o walk alone into a "dark-

some h o l e " (I.i.14.3), i n the "thickest woods" (I.i.11.7),

in the perilous landscape o f Faeryland. Redcross i s going

out o f h i s way t o f i n d t r o u b l e and he i s i l lprepared t o

handle i t . Una h a s more commonsense. She warns himto wait,

to investigate carefully first. She s t a t e s t h e s i t u a t i o n

precisely:

Be w e l l a w a r e . . .
Least suddaine mischiefe ye t o o rash provoke:
The d a n g e r h i d , t h e p l a c e unknowne a n d w i l d e ,
Sreedes d r e a d f u l l d o u b t s ... (I.i.12.1-4).

Such c a u t i o n i s exactly t h e wrong t h i n g t o say to a dashing

young man who i s s u p p o s e d to be her p r o t e c t o r . His reply

comes q u i c k l y . A k n i g h t w o u l d be ashamed t o h o l d back just

because he s u s p e c t s danger, after a l l ,right i s might. Where-

upon she must g r a n t that i t i s now t o o l a t e t o ask himto

back o u t , since a knight such a s h e , once having seen a test

and admitted he i s g o i n g t o attempt i t , cannot quit without

"foule disgrace" (I.i.13.3). Especially, one m i g h t a d d ,

when t h e a d m i s s i o n h a s b e e n made b e f o r e a young l a d y and her

servant. A l l she c a n do i s a d v i s e him to beware, for this

is t h e monster E r r o r ' s d e n . Even t h e Dwarf calls out t o f l y .

Yet i n he s t r i d e s , "full of f i r e a n d greedy hardiment" (I.i.14.1)

 26

that i s , f u l l of youth,energy and boldness, greedy f o r

"worship" ( I . i . 3 . 4 ) , the only fame possible to a knight,

that gained through many v i c t o r i e s i n many kinds of t e s t s .

Inevitably, even thus f a r , the reader concludes that t h i s

i s a rather immature young man on his f i r s t r e a l assignment

and anxious f o r quick success.

Thus, i n he s t r i d e s , surprising Error i n a "lothsom"

but s t i l l peaceful nursing scene so that she gathers up

her young and, i n great f r i g h t , s t a r t s to retreat deeper i n -

to the cave, f o r she hated the world and normally stayed

inside "Where plaine none might her see, nor she see any

plaine" (I.i.16.9). At t h i s point, a mature knight would

have l e f t well enough alone. But not Redcross. He must

seize a victory so, sword i n hand, he "forced her to stay"

( I . i . 1 7 . 4 ) . and then started to attack her. Naturally, a f t e r

a l l t h i s persistence, he does succeed i n " k i n d l i n g rage"

(E.i.18.2) i n a monster very much larger and very much more

s k i l l e d at f i g h t i n g i n t h i s darkened cave than he. As the

reader by t h i s time expects, Redcross gets caught and by a

very v e r s a t i l e manoeuvre from E r r o r . She wraps her long t a i l

around him so he cannot move hand or foot, cannot use h i s

only remaining weapons, h i s sword and s h i e l d . He i s d e f i n -

i t e l y caught and he shows no v e r s a t i l i t y whatever. His m i l i -

tary t r a i n i n g must have been l i t t l e more than conventional

practice with the f i x e d set of knightly weapons i n the f i x e d

 27

movement patterns and, apparently, he has no wider b a t t l e

experience to apply t o t h i s unconventional predicament.

Here, again, Una shows both her greater experience and her

keener a b i l i t y to size up a s i t u a t i o n . She c r i e s out to

him the only advice that w i l l work, to draw on h i s reserves

of superhuman strength "Add f a i t h unto your force .../

Strangle her, else she sure w i l l strangle thee." Confused

and ashamed, "His g a l l d i d grate f o r g r i e f e and high d i s -

daine" (I.i.19.3.4.6), he proceeds to strangle. However,

v e r s a t i l e Error has another manoeuvre. She vomits r e v o l t -

ingly u n t i l he begins t o r e t r e a t , and then she spews out

a l l the "fowle" babies he had disturbed i n the f i r s t place.

There he stands, i n stench and f i l t h , no longer the " f u l l

j o l l y knight" of the opening tableau and, i r o n i c a l l y , i t

a l l "him encombred sore, but could not hurt at a l l " ( I . i . 2 2 . 9 ) .

Oh, just deserts1 At l a s t , more fearing shame than danger,

he decides angrily to win or lose a l l i n one e f f o r t , moves

(possibly the reader would say sloshes) forward and stabs

her. Sensible as ever, Una approaches " i n hast" and lavishes

prais e.

Well worthy be you of that Armorie,

Wherein ye have great glory wonne t h i s day,
And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie,
Your f i r s t adventure: many such I pray,
And henceforth ever wish, that l i k e succeed i t may.
(I.i.27.5-9)

Noticeably he says nothing to t h i s warm speech, probably,

 28

the reader suspects, because he i s s t i f f with pride. Notice-

ably also he seems to have learned at least a l i t t l e , f o r ,

on t h e i r way once more,

That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,

Ne ever would to any by-way bend,
But s t i l l did follow one unto the end,
The which at l a s t out of the wood them brought.
(I.i.28.3-6).

But maturing i s an agonizingly slow process. No

sooner are they out of the woods than they meet the aged

hermit. No sooner do they meet the hermit than Redcross

asks i f there are any "straunge adventures" ( I . i . 3 0 . 4 ) abroad.

He speaks with surprising eagerness f o r one who has barely

escaped from an embarrassing predicament and i s supposedly

concentrating on one main quest. The hermit maintains he

knows nothing of troubles afar, but i f "homebred e v i l l "

w i l l do, why he can t e l l about a strange man "That wasteth

a l l t h i s countrey f a r r e and neare," who, nevertheless, seems

to l i v e "Far hence" i n some dangerous wilderness. "Shew

the place" i s the knight's eager request,

For to a l l knighthood i t i s foule disgrace,

That such a cursed creature l i v e s so long
a space.(I.i.31.2-9)

Certainly t h i s i s a somewhat c h i l d i s h reply to what i s

l i t t l e more r e a l l y than vague information. Noticeably t h i s

time i t i s Una who has been s i l e n t . But she steps i n now and
 29

quickly, too, before Redcross has a chance to get under-

way with t h i s new side adventure. She i s also now more
diplomatic i n choosing just the right thing to say, that i t
i s nearly n i g h t f a l l , he must be t i r e d from today's encounter,
he needs sleep to restore h i s f u l l might.

... The knight was well content:

So with that godly father to h i s home they went.
(I.i.33.S,9)

Spenser presents slow moving action? Not thus f a r ,

at any rate. Perhaps speed of action i s better rephrased
as i n t e n s i t y of the reader's concentration on the action
rather than the number of incidents presented per l i n e a l
foot of the poem. Surely any reader w i l l admit at the end
of Canto One, Stanza 33, that he f e e l s relieved at seeing
the Redcross knight being l e d peacefully towards bed by Una
on one side and a sage hermit on the other. Therefore what
a deft b i t of narrative surprise i t i s that Spenser has in
store. The reader already knows from the introductory quat-
r a i n that the noble p a i r w i l l be ensnared by Hypocrisy, but
no one could be suspicious of t h i s hermit. Rather, the
reader presumes that the hermit's "straunge man" w i l l prob-
ably turn out tomorrow to be Hypocrisy. Then, "when a l l
drowned i n deadly sleepe he f i n d e s " o f f goes the hermit
himself to h i s "Magicke bookes and a r t e s " ( I . i . 3 6 . 6 , 8 ) . He
i s himself Hypocrisy and he i s about to push them into another
adventure.
 30

Archimago would seem to be a genuine f a i r y t a l e magi-

cian, the sort of fellow who appears from nowhere to scheme
against the most good, good people he can find, for the very
f i t t i n g reason that he himself i s a l l back i n a l l h i s i n -
tentions. Undoubtedly therefore the reader w i l l greet
Hypocrisy's appearance with much interest to see how Spenser
uses magic i n the narrative, and t h i s interest w i l l c e r t a i n l y
increase when the reader sees that the poet devotes a f u l l
eight stanzas to the Morpheus incident, to what i s r e a l l y
just Archimago's preliminary conjuring. The evident ques-
t i o n i s whether or not narrative action merely turns aside
here into a r e l a t i v e l y ornamental digression. Yet even a
quick glance w i l l reveal that Spenser prepares c a r e f u l l y .
He begins with a b i t of simple foreshadowing by innocently
placing the word "Morpheus" (I.i.36.3) i n the description of
the virtuous pair going to sleep. Then the minstrel steps
forward and introduces the scene professionally with h i s
tense grave comments about the "bold bad man" (I.i.37.7)
c a l l i n g forth "Legions of Sprights" (l.i.38.2) with words
so h o r r i b l e "Let none them read" (l.i.37.2) and f i n a l l y
choosing the "falsest twoo" sprights with which to "fray h i s
enimies" (I.i.38.5,6). This formal introduction s p e c i f i c a l l y
presents Archimago's mechanism, the use of sprights, and at
the same time brings to a peak the dark, stealthy atmosphere
which has only been hinted at before and, just because the

\
 31

narrator does intrude to speak to h i s audience as a f a i r y t a l e

narrator, i n e v i t a b l y c a l l s out to that audience to l e t i t s

imagination run f r e e l y .

And f r e e l y the reader goes,

... through spersed ayre,

And through the world of waters wide and deepe,
To Morpheus house ...
Amid the bowels of the earth f u l l steepe ( I . i . 3 9 . 1 - 4 ) .

charmed throughout the spright's journey. Magic, a f t e r a l l ,

i s a d i f f i c u l t t o o l to handle i f the poet has to use i f often
i n a narrative as long as the Faerie Queene. The problem,
quite p l a i n l y , i s boredom. Every time Archimago appears, f o r
instance, Spenser simply cannot have the magician rather
mechanically wave h i s wand u n t i l , l o , a f a l s e Florimel emer-
ges, or intone abracadabra, l i g h t some gunpowder u n t i l poof,
a genie s i t s on the table. Such mechanics become empty
very quickly. The reader w i l l follow magic people using
magic powers i n a magic world as long as there i s a d i f f e r -
ent how, when, where, what, why each time. The lengthy
t r i p to Morpheus and back i s thus Spenser's method of f i l l -
ing i n r i c h shades of meaning and atmosphere, of p a r t i c u l a r -
i z i n g t h i s b i t of black magic into a complete, i n t e r e s t i n g
whole.

Spenser weaves the d e t a i l s quite thoroughly. This

i s a long journey r i g h t into the depths of the earth where i t

i s always dark so the god can always sleep. Lofty d e i t i e s

 32

of the night l i k e Cynthia forever watch over him. Double

gates of ivory and s i l v e r , cool, pale and precious give him

privacy, and watchdogs stand on guard. There i s nothing

i n t r i n s i c a l l y e v i l about Morpheus, except h i s association

with subterranean night, i n fact, the reader probably notes

that the wicked spright has to steal past the dogs, through

the gates and, to an extent, scheme against Morpheus

by getting the special dream when the God i s only half awake.

Therefore, a l l the d e t a i l s become at the same time both

appropriate to the God of Sleep and i n keeping with Archi-

mago' s scheming against the innocent sleeping p a i r . The

magician would have to allow ample time f o r them to f a l l

deeply asleep; indeed, the b e a u t i f u l l y appropriate sounds

surrounding Morpheus could j u s t as readily indicate the

victims' sleep.

A t r i c k l i n g stream from high rocke tumbling downe

And e v e r - d r i z l i n g raine upon the l o f t ,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much l i k e the sowne
Of swarming Bees, did cast him i n a swowne:
(I.i.41.2-5).

Whatever magic t r i c k s he used would have to be done quietly

or the victims would waken i n the l i t t l e hermitage. Since

he i s going to the trouble of getting a special dream from

the very God of Sleep, the reader knows Archimago must be

concocting most potent magic. Indeed, i s not black magic

always performed most e f f i c i e n t l y under cover of night?

And once the scheming i s under way, does not the magician
 33

always complete i t i n an instant, almost by s l e i g h t of hand?

Hence the instant cutting of the sleepy Morpheus atmosphere

the moment the spright claims the dream. He

Remounted up as l i g h t as chearefull Larke,

And on h i s l i t l e winges the dreame he bore
In haste unto his Lord ... ( I . i . 4 4 . 7 - 9 ) .

Whereupon Archimago instantly becomes a picture of the

chuckling, hand-rubbing magician, g l e e f u l l y making ready

against h i s unsuspecting victims. In f a c t , he i s so

wickedly cheerful now that, looking upon the lady he created

from the second spright, he i s himself "nigh beguiled with

so goodly sight" ( I . i . 4 5 . 7 ) . No one could help but f e e l be-

guiled too by the whole incident, nor could a reader have

been better prepared for the important sleep temptation

scene to come. I f one judges again by the measure of a

reader's intense concentration, then the conclusion i s i n -

escapable that Spenser's narrative pace does not slacken even

when he seems to turn quite away for a time from his hero

and heroinel

Delighted or not, the reader i s s t i l l waiting to see

how the magic w i l l be used, to see whether Redcross and Una

genuinely react to i t , and become motivated by i t , as they

would i n the case of any other legitimate narrative event.

Reaction i s possibly the most accurate term to use, since

subtle, suggestive temptation of Redcross i s Archimago's

 34

beginning. The magic makes the sleeping knight

... dreame of loves and l u s t f u l l play,

That nigh h i s manly hart did melt away,
Bathed i n wanton b l i s and wicked joy (I.i.47.4-6).

Most c e r t a i n l y therefore Hypocrisy reads Holiness as an

e n t i r e l y human young man and i s , indeed, close enough to the
r e a l i t y of human experience to have guessed, along with the
sympathetic reader, that Redcross and Una are f a l l i n g i n
love. For i t i s i n Una's assumed shape that Archimago puts
the temptation. No wonder the knight starts awake; his
human conscience i s reacting against the emotions

.... of unwonted l u s t ,
or wonted feare of doing ought amis ( I . i . 4 9 . 1-2).

But he awakes only to f i n d himself face to face with "Una,"

who i s blushingly t r y i n g to k i s s him. She whom he had put
on a pedestal; no wonder again he reacts v i o l e n t l y , f i r s t
with the urge to "have slaine her i n his f i e r c e despight"
( I . i . 5 0 . 3 ) , then with the wish to hear her story. Through
sighs and sobs and tears she refers to her youth, her inex-
perience, and the sad plight of her family - f o r a l l of which
she turns to him f o r aid, saying "Let me not dye i n languor
and long teares" ( I . i . 5 2 . 7 ) . She receives a most t y p i c a l
male answer, i n e f f e c t , "Dear Dame, what i s the matter with
you, who were so sensible and steady comforting me earlier?"
 35

"Love of your s e l f e , she s a i d " ( I . i . 5 3 . D . What other

reply could there be, humanly or a r t i s t i c a l l y . To him,

a l l t h i s behaviour rings a l i t t l e f a l s e , but yet, "no un-

truth he knew" ( I . 1 . 5 3 * 6 ) , and i n t h i s mere half-suspicion

he reveals once more h i s lack of experience. A mature man

well acquainted with the knightly, courtly world would never

have been fooled by the spright's obvious overacting. Red-

cross i s ; he r e a l l y believes t h i s i s Una o f f e r i n g hereelf

and, by the very fact that he does believe, i s he saved.

Primarily i t i s his pride that makes him r e j e c t such "fawning

love" ( I . i . 5 3 . 7 ) and say somewhat calmly, perhaps a l i t t l e

p r i g g i s h l y too, that he i s sorry to have caused her secret

g r i e f , f o r most surely he esteems her love and consider him-

s e l f bound to her service. Indeed, she r e a l l y should put

aside "vaine feares" and go back to sleep. Defeated, "she

turnd as to her ease" ( I . i . 5 4 . 4 , 9 ) while he l i e s musing,

c e r t a i n l y "Much griev'd to think that gentle Dame so l i g h t , "

but also quite noticeably concerned f o r himself because, i f

the essence of his quest i s to "shed h i s blood" (I.i.55.2,3)

i n her defence, she has now lowered the q u a l i t y of that

quest. Magic or not, therefore, Spenser uses t h i s dream

temptation most f l e x i b l y to reveal the i n t e r p l a y of h i s

hero's thought and emotion and, furthermore, to turn that

hero i n t o a young man capable of abandoning h i s duty, h i s

love, and h i s Una next morning.

 36

Archimago*s magic i s by no means f i n i s h e d . When did

a f a i r y t a l e magician ever abandon a scene without being

or
either e n t i r e l y successful jxS e n t i r e l y routed? He a l t e r s

his spright-scheming by creating another f a l s e figure, Spenser

at the same time pauses to add a l i t t l e particularizing

colour by having the f i n a l two stages of the scheming play-

ed out before a most appropriately changing sunrise. The

world i s dark and s i l e n t . I t i s the l a s t calm pause before

dawn. Certainly the reader appreciates t h i s b r i e f r e s t !

Then "chearefull Chaunticlere with h i s note s h r i l l " warns

the magician that time i s running out,

... that Phoebus f i e r y carre

In hast was climbing up the Easterne h i l l (I.ii.1.6-8).

" a l l i n rage" ( I . i i . 2 . 5 ) , Archimago quickly sets up the

guilty-looking "Squire" with "Una" and shakes awake poor

Redcross, who has just f a l l e n into h i s f i r s t undisturbed

sleep of the night. Awakened thus, surely the knight would

start up, seize h i s sword and run out with the old man.

Surely also now Redcross' reactions are to be expected. At

sight he burned with "gealous f i r e , " then such rage that "he

would have slaine them i n h i s furious i r e " ( I . i i . 5 . 6 , 8 ) . And

so, s t i l l the very young knight, he cannot i n any way r e -

concile his love, h i s hate, h i s honour, h i s quest, and i n -

evitably jumps to the solution that frequently beckons the

immature. He runs away.

 37

But what of Una and the other h a l f of Archimago's

scheme? She awakens to a proper s u n r i s e and a d i f f e r e n t

world, " r o s y - f i n g r e d Morning f a i r e " i s glowing over the

mountains and spreading her " p u r p l e robe through deawy aire."

M i s c h i e f and magic have i n e x p l i c a b l y s c u r r i e d o f f w i t h the

darkness, l e a v i n g Una i n n o c e n t and abandoned on an i r o n i c -

a l l y buoyant morning. Ever the g e n t l e , v i r t u o u s l a d y she

weeps and w a i l s p i t e o u s l y " t o see t h a t w o e f u l l stowre"

(I.ii.7.1,3,9). But her emotions have a f a i r l y sensible

basis, for after a l l she i s now completely u n p r o t e c t e d i n

this wilderness. T h e r e f o r e she acts p o s i t i v e l y . She r i d e s

out i n the sunshine a f t e r R e d c r o s s , f e e l i n g a l l the time

" s o r e g r i e v e d i n her g e n t l e b r e s t " ( I . i i . 8 . 8 ) , and not just

because she knows he i s her only p r o t e c t o r , but p r i m a r i l y b e -

cause, as Archimago and r e a d e r had a l r e a d y guessed, she l o v e s

him.

In t h i s v e r y f i r s t i n t r o d u c t i o n t o h i s magic w o r l d ,

then, Spenser has accomplished much. On the plane of

c h a r a c t e r he has both r e v e a l e d and motivated the hero and

h e r o i n e , w h i l e on the plane o f n a r r a t i v e i n c i d e n t he moves

so e f f i c i e n t l y t h a t he r e f u t e s those c r i t i c s who s t i l l per-

s i s t i n r e g a r d i n g d i v e r s i o n s l i k e gods and dawns as mere,

m e c h a n i c a l , passage-of-time d e v i c e s . 3 Always i t is the

3 An example i s Z . E . Green, "Swooning i n the Faerie

Queene." SP, XXXIV (1937), 127.
 38

reader f o r whom Spenser shapes the narrative. For him the

story opens with two picturesque abstractions, Holiness and

Truth, and f o r him i t grows quickly into an ever more com-

plex t a l e of love and adventure. In terms of the poem's

narrative l e v e l , at l e a s t , we can s a t i s f y ourselves that

Spenser d i d , i n f a c t , carry out h i s promise to delight f i r s t

and teach second.

 39

CHAPTER I I

Spenser so d e f t l y b r i n g s Redcross and Una t o l i f e

i n the n a r r a t i v e t h a t i t i s necessary t o ask whether, a t

the same time, he succeeds i n making a l l t h i s p l e a s u r e

contribute to h i s teaching. We have only t o f o l l o w the

hero and heroine throughout t h e i r t a l e t o r e a l i z e that

Spenser succeeds f o r , both a s adventure and a s romance,

he makes Redcross and Una's s t o r y demonstrate some import-

ant lessons i n l i v i n g . Together these l e s s o n s comprise a

s e c t i o n o f m o r a l i t y t h a t i s e s s e n t i a l to the whole poem,

that i s e a s i l y understood and t h a t i s , above a l l , a t t r a c t i v e

to the r e a d e r . To see t h e s e l e s s o n s i s t o s e e s p e c i f i c a l l y

how Spenser s o l v e s the fundamental problem of making the

t e a c h i n g and d e l i g h t i n g c o n t r i b u t e t o one another.

The f i r s t and most obvious advantage Spenser gains

from the n a r r a t i v e i s t h e v e r y c h a r a c t e r o f Redcross. From

the o u t s e t he i s a most welcome p a t r o n of h o l i n e s s because

he i s humanly i m p e r f e c t . Spenser never f a i l s to keep i n

mind the fundamental t h a t m o r a l i t y i s not taught e f f i c i e n t l y

by p r e a c h i n g . Dull, theoretical sermons about r i g h t and

wrong only r e a c h the people who come t o l i s t e n , the people

who a r e already t a u g h t . Such people might have d e l i g h t e d

i n a conventional, perfect knight of holiness e f f o r t l e s s l y

 40

trouncing every wicked opponent i n the twelve cantos. But

everyday, human, people-in-affairs, those who are not taught,

those who most need to know, would not be attracted at a l l

by such a sanctimonious preacher. When the subject i s

morality, people want i t approached from t h e i r point of view,

from the point of view of the Redcross knight, who wants to

learn, who has such a l o t to learn, and who must learn i t

a l l i n the agonizingly slow, weak, human ways.

This human p r i n c i p l e actually applies also to the

only perfect knight and greatest hero, Arthur. C r i t i c s have

often accused Spenser of giving Arthur too l i t t l e space

i n the poem, of introducing him only when necessary to f u l -

f i l h i s a l l e g o r i c a l function and then sending him away

quickly.^ But could Spenser not be allowed a purpose i n

these b r i e f appearances? To put i t b l u n t l y , who wants

i

perfection around very much? The everyday, human person

struggling to learn the right way i s c e r t a i n l y aware o f

such superior beings, and most certainly delights to read

about them, their v i r t u e and t h e i r easy power, but only once

in a while. Seen infrequently, they are admirable symbols;

kept around constantly, they become annoyances. A Book One

f u l l of perfect Arthur would be just as i n e f f e c t i v e as a

An example i s J.W. Draper, "Narrative Technique of

the Faerie Queene. PMLA. XXXIX ( 1 9 2 4 ) , 3 1 0 .
 41

Book One f u l l of a perfect knight of holiness. For the

purpose of teaching and delighting, therefore, Arthur i s

more e f f e c t i v e because the reader sees so l i t t l e of him.

The second advantage a r i s i n g even from the beginning

of the narrative i s also aligned with the ordinary, human

reader's approach. I t i s so very obvious to say i t , but

s t i l l Spenser remembers to say i t throughout the s i x books,

that any work which genuinely seeks to develop i n a man the

private moral v i r t u e s must give an important place to woman.

Is not woman i n t e g r a l t o any man's adjustment? The f a c t

that the two staples of recreational f i c t i o n have always

been love and war i s a simple r e f l e c t i o n of t h i s fundamental.

And j u s t because love does form the subject of so much read-

ing f o r pleasure one must always remember not to regard rom-

ance i n narrative too l i g h t l y , as secondary decoration, as

sop f o r the surface mind seeking mere entertainment. Proper

adjustment between man and woman i s a necessity i n t h i s

life. That such union i s eagerly read about i s no indication

that the reader approaches with l i t t l e desire to learn;

such eagerness should rather be taken as the reader's desire

to learn what he recognizes i s most important to learn. In

other words, Spenser i s being exceedingly p r a c t i c a l , not

just pleasing, when he makes Redcross and Una come to l i f e

as lovers, f o r love i s that aspect of morality about which

most people wish t o learn f i r s t . And therefore the poet i s

 42

careful throughout the narrative to develop the romance

into a formal betrothal between two matured, competent

adults. Certainly evidence of how seriously Spenser takes

the love story on i t s own merits l i e s i n the fact that t h e i r

love i s not made secure by Arthur's stepping f o r t h from

allegory as Heavenly Grace and rescuing Redcross from the

dungeon, but r e a l l y s o l i d i f i e s afterwards i n a more subtle

human change i n the lovers themselves.

Una i s the primary character here. For a l l the

a b i l i t y she showed at the narrative's beginning to estimate
situations more p r a c t i c a l l y than her knight, Spenser de-
l i b e r a t e l y l e t s her develop one b l i n d spot, and t h i s ob-
viously i s the knight himself. For instance, when Archimago
schemes again and appears before her disguised as Redcross,
she accepts him almost at once, approaches "with f a i r e
f e a r e f u l l humblesse" ( I . i i i . 2 6 . 9 ) , hopes she has not done
anything "that ye displeasen might," and f i n a l l y asks "Where
have ye bene thus long ...?" ( I . i i i . 2 7 . 2 , 4 ) . His excuse
i s lengthy but i t would have been seen through r e a d i l y by
the Una of Canto One. Why does she accept i t here, and why
her excessively humble, timid, non-questioning approach?
Spenser spends two f u l l stanzas explaining that "A dram of
sweet i s worth a pound of sowre" ( I . i i i . 3 0 , 3 1 ) . Una i n love
i s blind to the past. She accepts her knight with joy.
Indeed, one might very well suspect that the poet actually
 43

created t h i s scene just to show how much love has impaired

Una. Admittedly she does have some excuse f o r t h i s f i r s t
welcome, but she has much less of an excuse the second time
when she greets the r e a l Redcross rescued from the dungeon.
Again she i s a l l "hasty joy" (I.viii.42.2) and humbleness.
She never once reprimands him, i n f a c t , she actually goes
as f a r as excusing him e n t i r e l y and putting a l l blame f o r
his predicament on "Fortune" (I.viii.43.3)• I t i s Arthur
who has to step i n and say what should be said to the young
knight, and Arthur, of course, says i t p e r f e c t l y . He, too,
i s kind enough to give a l l benefit of doubt, f o r he does
not reproach Redcross either, but he does add the essential
warning "be wise, and ware of l i k e agein" (I.viii.44.6).
In t h i s whole scene humble Una only manages to act once,
to rescue Duessa, of a l l people, from death, and with what
i s surely an overly nice, l a d y l i k e excuse.

To do her dye (quoth Una) were despight,

And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy.
(I.viii.45.7,8).

Undoubtedly Una appears every inch the sweet, proper,

pretty lady during t h i s scene, but she i s nevertheless im-

practical. Fortunately, she and her lover w i l l be spared

any consequences of thus rashly freeing Duessa, but only

because other circumstances w i l l soon force Una to temper

the emotions of f i r s t love and start acting more sensibly

 44

towards her knight.

These circumstances develop the very next time Red-

cross gets out of sight, by going i n t o the cave of Despair.

Is she n o t , to an e x t e n t , back where she was i n scene one,

s t a n d i n g by w h i l e he enters a dangerous cave? Only this

time she k n o w s how s u b t l y dangerous the cave is, for Sir

Terwin and S i r T r e v i s a n a r e woeful evidence. She has also

had several cantos to realize how i m m a t u r e h e r Redcross

still is, and s u r e l y she must see that he i s abnormally

v u l n e r a b l e now, s t i l l weak f r o m h i s imprisonment. Yet she

stands humbly and i n e f f e c t i v e l y by u n t i l the very worst has

happened. O n l y when she sees Redcross raise the knife to

commit suicide does she act, not timidly, but like the

positive, sensible y o u n g woman s h e h a d f i r s t appeared to be.

She snatches the knife, throws it to the ground, undoubted-

ly stamps h e r f o o t , and snaps a t h i m i n t h e way she should

have long before. "Come, come a w a y , fraile, feeble, fleshly

wight" (I.ix.53.D. Una h a s matured completely here. She

has f i n a l l y r e a l i z e d that in love, one and one must not add

up t o two, but a d i f f e r e n t , enlarged one; that no partner-

ship w i l l really succeed i n any enterprise without each

member a c t i v e l y contributing, particularly i n those areas

where the other p a r t n e r may b e deficient. If Una had

actually guided Redcross earlier t h r o u g h some o f his immature

b l u n d e r i n g she w o u l d have had h e r quest and h e r romance with

 45

much l e s s heartache. But she steps forth to him f i r m l y

here, "So up he rose" (I.ix.54.1) to her, r e a l i z i n g now how

very much he needs her help, and f o r t h they go to the

House of Holiness, matured as partners and lovers a t l a s t .

Spenser d e l i b e r a t e l y designed the love story to stand

complete i n i t s e l f as one of the most interesting and p r o f i t -
able contributions of his narrative. As a teaching device,
i t not only begins with the area of morality i n which ordin-
ary readers are most interested, that of the r e l a t i o n s
between man and woman, but then also rigorously shows the
broader lesson that maturity i n one area of l i v i n g affects
behaviour i n a l l others. In f a c t , one may say Spenser
seems to agree with the majority of his readers when he
suggests that a successful courtship and marriage i s the pre-
liminary step towards a successful adult l i f e , that a man
l i k e Redcross, once "Possessed of h i s Ladies hart and hand"
(I.xii.40.7), i s " f u l l content" with l i f e and able to set
about accomplishing the duty which he had "sworne" (I.xii.41.
2,6). I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t , f o r instance, that Spenser
s e t t l e s Redcross' love a f f a i r before sending him to be
schooled thoroughly i n holiness. Indeed, the poet uses as-
pects of love as mechanics i n h i s very allegory. It i s
temptation to l u s t by which Archimago f i r s t separates H o l i -
ness from Truth; i t i s seduction through which Falsehood
ensnares him, and i t i s the persistence of True Love, even
 46

a f t e r many e x h a u s t i n g e s c a p e s from f a t e s - w o r s e - t h a n , who

finally p u t s him on t h e r e a l path t o holiness.

Granted, t h e romance i s an o b v i o u s choice to help

the a l l e g o r y i n Book One, s i m p l y because the lovers i n

narrative are the a b s t r a c t i o n s in allegory. Yet Spenser

significantly m a i n t a i n s h i s s t r e s s on l o v e t h r o u g h o u t the

o t h e r f i v e books. I n Book Two he moves t o Temperance, which

is a v i r t u e more u n i v e r s a l t h a n r e s t r i c t e d l y Christian.

Expressed thus, Spenser's second v i r t u e r e p r e s e n t s an im-

portant c h o i c e , f o r i t i s t h e key to the e s s e n t i a l m o r a l i t y

just e x p r e s s e d i n Book One and i t i s a b o u t t o be developed

further i n the r e s t o f t h e poem. Furthermore this essential

m o r a l i t y i s both temperate and romantic. One might rephrase

the c o n c l u s i o n about Redcross and Una and say that first

they a c h i e v e temperance, o r m a t u r i t y , not j u s t in life gen-

erally, but w i t h each other. O n l y when t h e y h a v e become

temperate p a r t n e r s and l o v e r s do they proceed towards the

specific C h r i s t i a n v i r t u e of h o l i n e s s . This lesson i s

illustrated almost a t o n c e i n a n o t h e r way i n Book Two.

Plainly S i r Guyon, t h e K n i g h t o f Temperance, i s not a lover,

but the f i r s t incident he f a c e s p r e s e n t s M o r d a n t and Amavia,

already united a s husband a n d w i f e , b u t n e v e r t h e l e s s d y i n g

from love-gone-wrong. As a r e s u l t , Guyon's t a s k becomes t o

d e s t r o y t h e Bower o f B l i s s , the s o u r c e o f such evil love.

Noticeably, also, the k n i g h t goes from t h e death scene t o the

 47

castle "of golden Meane" (II.ii.proem), an unmistakable

reference to A r i s t o t l e ' s Nichomachean Ethics, another middle-

of-the-road approach which also regards virtue as a sensible

adjustment to l i f e , and sins as the many emotionalized

extremes of behaviour varying from t h i s centre. As G.S.

Lewis says more simply, the basis of Spenser's morality

l i e s i n a constant presentation of the norm between a n t i -

2
theses, between "the c o n f l i c t of two mighty opposites."

Book Three then presents Britomart, who i s a lover and,

moreover, a woman. With her, Spenser i s taking a l o g i c a l

t h i r d step. I f Book One sets up the primary importance of

temperate love, and Book Two i l l u s t r a t e s the dangers of

intemperance i n love, then the poet obligates himself to

give a thorough expression of h i s ideas of love, an obliga-

t i o n which he t r i e s to carry out conscientiously, and no

doubt pleasingly, by sending Britomart through three f u l l

books.

Indeed, Spenser may be regarded as e n t i r e l y con-

scientious here, f o r having evolved t h i s essential, tem-

perate-romantic morality i n the f i r s t place, and then f o r

expressing i t pleasantly i n narrative. In truth, he i s being

an e f f i c i e n t educator. Again one may r e s o r t d i r e c t l y to

modern educational language and say that i n h i s Faerie Queene

The Allegory of Love (London, 1953), p. 314.

 48

the poet has created a teaching u n i t on i n d i v i d u a l moral

conduct and as h i s f i r s t step has created the basic core

of the unit, a temperate-romantic mean. Since the core

i s the one fundamental which a l l readers have to master,

i t must be presented at the poem's beginning; i t must be

stated i n simple terms f o r the average reader; i t must be

repeated throughout the entire poem i n t h i s simple form; and

then, to provide f o r readers with very great differences

i n a b i l i t i e s and i n t e r e s t s , i t must be r e - i l l u s t r a t e d i n

very many more complex ways u n t i l i t challenges even the

most competent student. Very conscientiously Spenser had

his ordinary, human reader-learner i n mind when he created

the narrative to express h i s unit core so simply and so

interestingly. And well he might, f o r the great numbers

of average readers are those who most need to be taught. As

he and Sidney recognized so well, teaching the already com-

petent i s the easiest education job i n the world, but

teaching the great many who are not i s the more d i f f i c u l t ,

and a t the same time the more necessary.

Furthermore, the poet's determination to provide f o r

t h i s great many accounts f o r s t i l l another s i g n i f i c a n t

narrative element, humour. Certainly Spenser motivates h i s

learners throughout h i s f a i r y t a l e Book One by deliberately

capturing i f not t h e i r r e a l world, c l e a r l y the r e a l i t y of

t h e i r experience i n the world, while at the same time drawing

 49

from t h e i r awareness o f r e a l i t y t o f o r m u l a t e the very

essence o f h i s moral t e a c h i n g . I t i s therefore natural f o r

Spenser t o p o r t r a y something o f t h e humour which i s a p a r t

of every r e a d e r ' s experience. Furthermore, every reader

would expect t h a t the poet's r e i t e r a t e d promise i n the

T
tLetter"to d e l i g h t would i n c l u d e some uncomplicated enjoy-

ment, e s p e c i a l l y i n a t e a c h i n g u n i t as l o n g as t h e F a e r i e

Queene. Granted, Book One i s the s e c t i o n where humour i s

needed l e a s t , p a r t l y because of the n a r r a t i v e ' s d e l i b e r a t e ,

s t r o n g appeal t o t h e r e a d e r ' s primary i n t e r e s t s and p a r t l y

a l s o because t h e l e a r n e r ' s c o n c e n t r a t i o n i s not so l i k e l y

to l a p s e as he f i r s t moves i n t o Spenser's magic world.

But humour t h e r e i s , even i n Book One. Much o f i t

a r i s e s from Spenser's constant p r e s e n t a t i o n of extremes i n

behaviour as h i s method o f emphasizing that morality follows

the temperate, middle path. I s not Redcross, f o r example,

f l o u n d e r i n g i n t h e f i l t h of E r r o r ' s vomit, an i r o n i c a l l y

comic p i c t u r e ? That he deserves t h i s p o s i t i o n simply makes

a r e a d e r s m i l e the more and, thereby, a p p r e c i a t e Spenser's

r e a l p o i n t more f u l l y . T h i s approach i s so b a s i c t h a t i t

seeps out i n t o l i t t l e comments s c a t t e r e d through the e n t i r e

n a r r a t i v e , each one of which succeeds both i n p r o d u c i n g a

s m i l e and p o i n t i n g up the m o r a l i t y . A good example comes a t

the end o f the F r a d u b i o i n c i d e n t . Redcross and " F i d e s s a "

l i s t e n w h i l e the t a l k i n g t r e e recounts how he had been be-

 50

guiled and transformed by Duessa, but, l e s t the knight

hear enough to r e a l i z e that "Fidessa" and Duessa are one,
the witch d i s t r a c t s h i s attention by f a i n t i n g . Completely
fooled, as the reader expects, the knight gathers her up
i n h i s arms, kisses her to consciousness, and o f f they go
together to the House of Pride. Spenser's only comment on
Redcross i s t e l l i n g ; he was "too simple and too trew" ( I .
ii.45.7). Then again, one cannot help noting the poet's
most precise use of even a single adjective i n the descrip-
tion of the seven deadly sins, where he says "Such one was
Avarice, the fourth of t h i s f a i r e band" (I.iv.29.9).

Indeed, Spenser goes beyond even such obviously

useful humour and introduces pure comic r e l i e f . Once more,
he expresses the humour both i n l i t t l e d e t a i l s and i n large
scenes. Even the August Arthur can cause chuckles.
For instance, when Magnificence stands face to face
with Orgoglio, every reader knows who w i l l win and s i t s
back to enjoy the spectacle. Spenser does not d i s -
appoint. Orgoglio swings h i s oak tree club so strongly
that i t digs up a three yard deep furrow, and then sticks i n
the ground. As the giant puffs and pants to p u l l i t out,
Arthur steps i n l i g h t l y and chops o f f an arm, to the cheers
of a l l readers. And thus, boisterously, the f i g h t moves to
i t s inevitable end. A whole scene with humour i s Archimago's
attempt to ensnare Una by disguising himself as Redcross.
When he spies her, he spies the l i o n too, and f o r a l l h i s
 51

m a g i c power, he w i l l not " f o r dread" ( I . i i i . 2 6 . 3 ) come

close, but rides to the top of a nearby h i l l so she cannot

help but see him. In t h i s behaviour Hypocrisy reveals h i s

true stature; he i s not a powerful creature of e v i l , but

l i t t l e more than a s k i l l e d tradesman at the magic arts who,

by himself, w i l l discomfort but never defeat the heroine, or

her l i o n . Once more, therefore, the reader relaxes to en-

joy the fun. Una, overjoyed, accepts the knight on sight;

so does the l i o n . But no sooner i s Archimago prancing

along the plain looking every inch j o l l y Saint George than

i n gallops Sans-loy, f r o t h i n g f o r vengeance from the Redcross

knight. Archimago can c a l l up no magic to help him here,

although he i s saved from death because of h i s magic. His

horse, since i t i s one of h i s own creations, i s so frightened

at Sans-loy s attack that i t retreats backwards f a s t enough

!

to negate the power of the lance's thrust. Down tumbles

Archimago, to the accompaniment of more cheers. Nonetheless,

even f o r such boisterous comic r e l i e f Spenser has useful

purposes. Archimago s blundering i s d e f i n i t e l y a release

1

for the reader a f t e r following Una's sad wandering and dreary

night with Abessa and Corceca. For a l l the burlesque, the

incident nevertheless manages to reveal how very f i e r c e a

f i g h t e r Sans-loy i s and how decidedly unknightly he i s too,

i n h i s desire to cut o f f h i s victim's head, a decision which

i n turn reveals him to be a friend of the wicked Archimago.

With t h i s revelation, the reader i s pushed back at once to

thoughts of Una's now most dangerous position and thus,

the end, laughter evaporates into even greater suspense

 53

CHAPTER I I I

The whole subject of Spenser's delighting has even

more significance, however. It i s appropriate here to ask

why c r i t i c s spend l i t t l e time explaining how they interpret

the term. For instance, when men l i k e Legouis or Brooke or

Guth meet Spenser's humour they tend to dismiss i t and

move on to what, they suggest, i s more important, the f a c t s

of Spenser's teaching. Thus the Faerie Queene may be

a l l e g o r i c a l or h i s t o r i c a l , or C h r i s t i a n or Platonic, or

c o l o r f u l or musical, and i t i s invaluable, but when i t i s

humorous i t has l i t t l e value. I t cannot be teaching any-

thing worthwhile. The c r i t i c s adopt t h i s overly serious

attitude because they forget that Spenser kept i n mind a l l

his audience, not just the already competent. They forget

that even readers as sophisticated as Elizabeth and her

courtiers want t h e i r morality expressed with a sense of

humour. Spenser was p r a c t i c a l enough to see that such read-

ers could best be reached by teaching that acknowledges how

imperfect most people are and kindly points the way towards

improvement. C r i t i c s forget that i t i s t h i s audience which

determines the subject matter Spenser must choose and the

methods with which he must handle i t . I t i s the who and the

how of Spenser's teaching which are most important, not the

 5 4

what.

However c r i t i c a l o p i n i o n about t h e humour remains,

on t h e whole i t i s n e g a t i v e , so i t demands a p r e c i s e ans-

wer. The problem i s much more than simply p o i n t i n g out

how Spenser uses i r o n y o r sarcasm o r comic r e l i e f effect-

ively. Spenser only r e f u t e s the c r i t i c s i f he makes humour

c o n t r i b u t e i m p o r t a n t l y to h i s t e a c h i n g . S i n c e the primary

t e a c h i n g done by Book One's n a r r a t i v e i s t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t

of the temperate-romantic m o r a l i t y , the primary problem

i n r e f u t i n g t h e c r i t i c s i s to show how humour h e l p s to s t a t e

this morality.

For t h i s purpose the b e s t p l a c e to b e g i n l o o k i n g a t

humour i s where t h e poet h i m s e l f b e g i n s i n t r o d u c i n g scenes

w i t h obvious comedy. S i g n i f i c a n t l y , these scenes come

a f t e r Redcross and Una have s e p a r a t e d and end j u s t b e f o r e

they r e - u n i t e , i n a c t u a l n a r r a t i v e terms a p e r i o d extending

from Canto Three t o the end o f Canto S i x . This period

becomes s i g n i f i c a n t because of t h e way Spenser t r e a t s the

k n i g h t and l a d y once he g e t s them a p a r t , and t h e most obvious

p o i n t about t h i s treatment i s t h a t he handles Redcross

e n t i r e l y s e r i o u s l y but i n v o l v e s Una i n comedy. Any r e a d e r

would suspect t h i s c o n t r a s t must be designed t o s t a t e some-

t h i n g important about the k n i g h t , h i s lady, and the r e -

l a t i o n s h i p between them. Within t h i s serious-humorous

a l t e r n a t i o n , Una's adventures a r e b e s t regarded as one con-

 55

s i s t e n t comic sequence, beginning with her conquest of the

l i o n and ending i n her entanglement with the fauns and

satyrs. There i s a d e f i n i t e pattern here, a beginning, a

moving to a climax and a conclusion. In addition, Una's

sequence i s frequently played against what i s happening to

Redcross, so that the two adventure patterns, though dev-

eloped independently, often stand as s i l e n t comments on one

another.

After the separation the heroine begins her heart-

broken search f o r her knight and she moves, r e a l l y , through

four main encounters, or perhaps i t would be more correct

to say she i s chased through four main encounters, because

Una becomes here the t y p i c a l lady i n d i s t r e s s against whom

the world seems to send ever more melodramatic misfortunes.

The very f i r s t of these i s the rush from nowhere of the

"ramping Lyon" greedy f o r "salvage blood" ( I . i i i . 5 . 2 , 3 } ; the

second i s Archimago's masquerade as Redcross, which i s i t -

s e l f put to an end by the sudden entrance of "that proud

Paynim" ( I . i i i . 3 5 . 1 ) Sans-loy who, i n h i s turn, i s routed

by the mere appearance of that "rude, misshapen, monstrous

rablement" ( I . v i . 8 . 7 ) , the fauns and satyrs. Certainly a l l

four meetings are misfortunes, but the preliminary point to

establish about them i s whether at the same time they are

t r u l y humorous. F i r s t l y , none of the four can be taken i n

any way as due penalty f o r Una. She did not cause the en-
 56

counters; they were thrust upon her. Secondly, and more

importantly, Spenser i s careful each time to present the

encounter through action so exaggerated i t i s nothing short

of burlesque. Granted, some of the scenes which a r i s e i n

consequence of each meeting may have incidents with varying

colour, but the main encounters themselves are primarily

comic.

For example, the ramping l i o n i s unusual. Any reader

can understand i t rushing with "gaping mouth" at Una's

"tender corse," but to see i t pause "with remorse," (I.iii.

5.5,6,8), then k i s s "her wearie f e e t " and l i c k "her l i l l y

hands with fawning tong" u n t i l her heart melts and she

" d r i z l i n g teares did shed f o r pure a f f e c t i o n " (I.iii.6.2,9).

To see t h i s i s to laugh f r e e l y with r e l i e f . In similar

way Spenser i s more than obvious rescuing Una from Sans-loy.

Surely the l u s t f u l v i l l a i n always packs h i s victim o f f

bodily, then t r i e s persuasion, then has to t r y force, and

then surely a lady i n such distress automatically r e s o r t s

to that universal l a s t weapon " t h r i l l i n g shriekes, and

shrieking cryes" (l.vi.6.2) u n t i l , with equal certainty,

some innocent bystander runs i n to the rescue at the very,

very, l a s t moment. That Una's bystander turns out to be a

whole t r i b e of half-humans i s a sight s u f f i c i e n t l y rare to

make Sans-loy bolt and every reader cheer to see the

creatures with the least humanity of a l l then perform the

 57

proper moral a c t i o n . When the "monstrous rablement"

immediately proceeds t o gather around "doleful desolate"

Una, s i t t i n g "with r u f f l e d rayments, and f a i r e b l u b b r e d

face" ( I . v i . 9 . 2,3),to p i t y her, and f i n a l l y to s a l u t e her

almost i n t a b l e a u with one, solemn, u n i t e d bow, that never-

t h e l e s s swings backwards i n s t e a d of forwards because of

" t h e i r backward b e n t " a n i m a l - l i k e knees (I.vi.11.9),

l a u g h t e r must grow l o u d e r . Indeed, i t i s because of such

t a b l e a u e f f e c t s as these encounters o f f e r t h a t c r i t i c s so

o f t e n p r a i s e Spenser as the p a i n t e r of memorable p i c t u r e s ,

but they a l s o f r e q u e n t l y f o r g e t to do the obvious, to

pause and r e a l l y look a t Spenser's p i c t u r e s . Certainly i f

they looked more o f t e n a t the s o r t of p a i n t i n g he does

i n these f o u r encounters they c o u l d not h e l p b e i n g more

aware of h i s humour.

Admittedly by i t s e l f t h i s whole comic sequence

appears a shocking one, f o r a g a i n , Una i n b u r l e s q u e i s by

no means the Una o f Canto One. Still Spenser i s c a r e f u l

f i r s t to warn a l l readers he w i l l t r e a t Una u n c o n v e n t i o n a l l y ,

not by a n y t h i n g he says about her, but r a t h e r by the way he

t r e a t s Redcross b e f o r e Una's wandering ever b e g i n s . The

k n i g h t ' s very f i r s t adventure, a f t e r abandoning the h e r o i n e ,

i s w i t h Duessa and Sans-loy. The paynim he k i l l s with

s a t i s f a c t o r y e f f i c i e n c y and what he does about Duessa

happens w i t h the same e f f i c i e n c y , but i s c e r t a i n l y not s a t -

 53

i s f a c t o r y , f o r i n quick successive steps he becomes her

protector, her suitor and her lover. C r i t i c s frequently

note t h i s e f f i c i e n t seduction of Redcross and quite r i g h t l y

l a b e l i t as just deserts. The knight has absolutely no

excuse f o r blundering here. There has been none of

Archimago's magic directed against him. He accepts her

and her " s c a r l o t " ( I . i i . 1 3 . 2 ) appearance because, " i n great

passion,"

More busying h i s quicke eyes, her face to view,

Than h i s d u l l eares, to heare what she did t e l l
(I.ii.26.5-7)

- because he wants to.

However, once more those same c r i t i c s frequently f a i l

to pause and look at t h e i r evidence. Is not t h i s a rather

shocking Saint George of England and Patron of Holiness?

Surely such an easy seduction of a young knight destined

for sainthood should be unusual enough to make them aware

that Spenser i s going out of h i s way to t r e a t Redcross un-

conventionally, and thereby should prepare them well f o r the

unconventional, comic treatment of Una which begins r i g h t

after that seduction.

Hence the question now becomes how her t o t a l comic

sequence contributes to Spenser's teaching, how i t helps to

state the narrative's basic temperate-romantic morality. A

great deal happens to Una during her wandering but the

 59

essence o f what Spenser says about her i s best revealed in

those four main encounters and i n the final comic scene,

where Spenser has her pause l o n g enough f o r him to develop

a full explanation. In essence there are f o u r main steps,

each c o n t r i b u t i n g something p r e c i s e and each i n t e r l o c k i n g

deftly with the preceding step to form a sequence leading

straight up t o that f i n a l explanation. Obviously the lion

comes first, and f o r a l l the adventures Una and t h e beast

go t h r o u g h t o g e t h e r , S p e n s e r makes c l e a r t h e significance of

their r e l a t i o n s h i p the minute "Lyon Lord" falls at her

feet.

0 how c a n b e a u t i e m a i s t e r t h e m o s t s t r o n
And s i m p l e t r u t h subdue a v e n g i n g wrong?

N e x t comes A r c h i m a g o , and t h r o u g h h i s m a s q u e r a d e he exposes

to a l l readers Una's important b l i n d spot. But he does not

expose i t to her, this is a c c o m p l i s h e d when number three,

"beastly" Sans-loy, unmasks t h e m a g i c i a n . Thereupon this

"beastly" human a n i m a l p r o c e e d s to d e m o n s t r a t e how c o m -

pletely evil he is when he s l a y s the genuine animal, the

lion, snatches Una, and "With b e a s t l y s i n thought her to have

defilde" (I.vi.3.4). The f i n a l step then introduces that

"salvage n a t i o n " of p a r t l y human and p a r t l y a n i m a l fauns

and s a t y r s . In other words, as Una chases through this

animal-human sequence, the creatures she meets t a k e on sym-

bolic meaning, and t h e r e f o r e the problem narrows here to

 60

i n t e r p r e t i n g what these creatures stand f o r .

Obviously they are t y p i c a l examples of Spenser's

constant playing with opposites. Once more the easiest

figure to begin with i s the l i o n . P l a i n l y he i s a genuine

animal and therefore under the right conditions, i n t h i s case

Una's beauty and truth, exhibits genuinely good behaviour.

His only defect would seem to be that he i s a l i o n and hence

l i m i t e d to animal conduct. In f a c t he has such ordinary

animal l i m i t a t i o n s that he i s quickly k i l l e d by the f i r s t

properly armed man who comes along. Sans-loy, however, i s

not much of a man. His appearance would give him t o be a

knight but h i s conduct reveals that he i s l i t t l e more than

an animal. He i s not a genuine human being, exercising h i s

God-given capacity f o r goodness nor, p l a i n l y , can he be a

genuine animal. He i s f a l s e no matter how he i s viewed.

Therefore h i s conduct must always be bad, and Una's beauty

and truth only make i t worse. I f then the beast i s at one

extreme and the "beastly" man at the other, that "salvage

nation" i s somehow a median. Taken symbolically, these fauns

and satyrs seem to say that most people are not a l l animal

or a l l human, f o r even under Una's influence t h e i r conduct

i s sometimes good and sometimes outrageous. However they,

nor any of these creatures, are important i n themselves, t h e i r

symbolic meaning must be related s p e c i f i c a l l y to Una. After

a l l , Spenser must have created them so Una could run against

 61

them. Furthermore, they must serve to r e v e a l her c h a r a c t e r ,

but not to change her, s i n c e she runs through them so

q u i c k l y , and s i n c e they are a l l c o m i c a l l y handled i n l a r g e

part.

What they r e v e a l , of course, i s o b v i o u s . Firstly

Una, w i t h her beauty and t r u t h , can c o n t r o l the l i o n and

use h i s animal behaviour f o r her own purposes, which n a t u r -

a l l y a r e good. She a c c e p t s what he i s and merely directs

the genuine, p r e d i c t a b l e conduct of which he i s c a p a b l e .

At the sequence's beginning, t h e r e f o r e , she demonstrates

very c l e a r l y again her n a t u r a l a b i l i t y and r e s o u r c e f u l n e s s .

But up comes d i s g u i s e d Archimago, and t h e r e i s her b l i n d s p o t .

Thus, suddenly, she r e v e a l s t o the r e a d e r t h a t towards

first l o v e , at l e a s t , she i s s t i l l very immature. Then i n

rushes Sans-loy, and he makes Una's p o s i t i o n s t i l l more c l e a r .

He i s named Sans-loy, or l a w l e s s n e s s , not because of what he

looks l i k e , or what he says, but because h i s conduct i s law-

l e s s , and h i s conduct i s l a w l e s s simply because he does

not d i r e c t h i m s e l f a c c o r d i n g to the accepted r u l e s of human,

s o c i a l l i v i n g , but d e l i b e r a t e l y seeks t o c a p i t a l i z e on

these r u l e s f o r h i s own ends. With such a one Una r e v e a l s

t h a t she i s e n t i r e l y i n e f f e c t i v e . Of course, Sans-loy a l s o

serves to confirm t h a t t h i s whole sequence i s , indeed, to be

taken as n a r r a t i v e , not j u s t a l l e g o r y , f o r Spenser i s not

 62

only u s i n g v e r y r e a l human experience here but he i s a l s o

a g a i n d e f i n i n g m o r a l i t y i n terms o f everyday, practical

living. Even though the human, non-human and p a r t l y human

c r e a t u r e s he uses to d e f i n e t h i s m o r a l i t y show markedly

d i f f e r e n t c a p a c i t i e s f o r human conduct, t h e y a r e a l l , never-

t h e l e s s , l i v i n g b r e a t h i n g c r e a t u r e s i n h i s world, by no

means dry a b s t r a c t i o n s . P l a i n l y h i s proof f o r t h e i r real

e x i s t e n c e l i e s i n the method by which he g e t s r i d o f them.

S i g n i f i c a n t l y , they e l i m i n a t e one another and by an i n t e r -

r e l a t e d s e r i e s of good, p h y s i c a l thumps. That Sans-loy

alone remains unthumped does not gainsay h i s r e a l i t y . The

crime he was about t o commit makes him r e a l enough. He

g a l l o p s away l e a v i n g Una i n the midst o f the s t r a n g e s t

creatures of a l l . What the g i r l does among them p r o v i d e s a

f i t t i n g climax t o t h e comedy and completes Spenser's r e -

v e l a t i o n of her c h a r a c t e r .

Still, t h e poet delays t h i s f i n a l scene u n t i l he has

sent Redcross through t h e House of P r i d e i n Cantos Four and

Five. Thus t h e r e a d e r approaches t h e climax not o n l y with

the t h r e e p r e l i m i n a r y r e v e l a t i o n s about Una, b u t a l s o w i t h

the knowledge of how her k n i g h t has f a r e d . C e r t a i n l y what

happens t o the hero i n Cantos Four and F i v e s t a n d s as s i l e n t

comment on what w i l l happen t o t h e heroine i n Canto S i x .

Even more c e r t a i n l y s h o u l d t h i s a l t e r n a t i o n o f s e r i o u s - c o m i c ,

a l l e g o r y - n a r r a t i v e , s t a t e m e n t - p r e d i c t i o n stand as evidence of
 63

Spenser's deftness. Redcross, of course, went into the

House of Pride with the sign of h i s degradation, Duessa;

was a b i t shaken about her during h i s b a t t l e with Sans-loy

when she c a l l e d out encouragements to the paynim, not to

him; and f i n a l l y escaped from the c a s t l e unharmed physic-

a l l y but without having solved his real problem, Duessa;

she simply follows him and betrays him into even worse

trouble. Thus the reader w i l l approach Canto Six knowing

that Una i s talented and v e r s a t i l e , but unexpectedly im-

mature i n common, ordinary f i r s t love, and furthermore

suspecting that she w i l l escape from the savage nation un-

harmed physically, although with her odd problem unsolved

and l i k e l y to damage her even more i n the future. Now at

l a s t Spenser's proposition becomes e n t i r e l y s p e c i f i c .

Within Una's adventures among the savage nation the poet

reveals something about the heroine that i n and by i t s e l f

helps state his fundamental temperate-romantic morality.

On the p r i n c i p l e that a l l these symbolic creatures

exist so Una can react to them, Spenser's moral statement

must necessarily involve what Una does with the fauns and

satyrs. What she does f i r s t , of course, i s to show s t i l l

once more how b a s i c a l l y competent she i s , f o r she waits,

"twixt feare and hope amazd" a l l during that long, awkward

bow u n t i l they convince themselves they should continue

o f f e r i n g her such respect. In other words, she conquers the

 64

animal i n them, just as she conquered the l i o n , and notice-

ably they, too, "Do kisse her feete" ( I . v i . 1 2 . 3 , 9 ) i n sign

of submission. Una i s safe. But these creatures are partly

human, so she cannot e n t i r e l y d i r e c t them.si They w i l l not

harm her, but neither w i l l they l e t her go. In effect, Una

i s a prisoner of the savages. S t i l l she notices they are

human enough to have developed a rudimentary s o c i a l life

with a rudimentary r e l i g i o n . Indeed, to the sound of merry

pipes, and "Leaping l i k e wanton kids i n pleasant Spring"

(I.vi.14.4) they bring her before t h e i r own god, Sylvanus,

who i s so impressed with her he does not "deeme her borne of

earthly brood" (l.vi.16.5). Then, to her amazement, she

r e a l i z e s they not only respect her, they actually worship

her, f o r

The woodborne people f a l l before her f l a t ,

And worship her as Goddesse of the wood;
(I.vi.16.1,2).

Lucky Una; safe and cherished, she can now pause to recup-

erate. Yet surely a l l readers must begin to wonder how long

her safety w i l l l a s t . Old Sylvanus was not just impressed

with her, he also "burnt i n h i s i n t e n t " (l.vi.15.7). The

'wooddy Nymphes," when they see her, " f l y away f o r feare of

fowle disgrace" (l.vi.l&.7) and they might just as well,

because as the days go by, the Satyrs themselves

... scorne t h e i r woody kind,

And henceforth nothing f a i r e , but her on earth
they f i n d . ( I . v i . 1 8 . 8 , 9 ) .
 65'

In r e a l i t y , Una i s t r e a d i n g a very t h i n l i n e between s a f e t y

and d i s a s t e r because the minute those fauns and s a t y r s stop

l o o k i n g up t o her they w i l l s t a r t burning f o r her and t h e r e

she w i l l be, f a c e d with another fate-worse-than.

But innocent Una i s not even aware of t h i s danger.

She does not pause t o recover; l i k e the good, good young

l a d y she i s , she proceeds to do the proper t h i n g , to convert

these savages t o C h r i s t i a n i t y . She begins, l o g i c a l l y , by

t r y i n g t o teach them not tomake an "Image o f I d o l a t r y e s "

( I . v i . 1 9 . 7 ) , not to t r e a t her as a goddess, but as an o r d -

i n a r y m o r t a l - the very t h i n g she must not l e t them l e a r n

at all. Poor Una, t h i s time she i s not being chased towards

a melodramatic s i t u a t i o n , she i s marching r i g h t i n t o i t a l l

by h e r s e l f . The why o f her i l l o g i c a l behaviour, of course,

is Spenser's specific point. Here, again, Una i s revealing

her b l i n d spot towards l o v e , t h a t same immaturity which

began t o appear when she welcomed d i s g u i s e d Archimago; but

here, she too has much l e s s o f an excuse, because t h e r e i s

none o f the magician's magic d i r e c t e d a g a i n s t her. She i s

e n t i r e l y on her own and shows h e r s e l f t o be j u s t what she i s ,

a very f i n e young woman, w i t h a l l the c a p a c i t y i n the world,

but one who n e v e r t h e l e s s l e d such a s h e l t e r e d l i f e t h a t she

understands very l i t t l e about young men her own age. She

gets a l o n g extremely w e l l w i t h genuine beasts, but their

company has obvious l i m i t a t i o n s . She f a i l s a l t o g e t h e r w i t h

 66

beastly men, a n d t h i s f a i l u r e i s excusable. But with ord-

inary y o u n g m e n , men w i t h good p o i n t s a n d b a d p o i n t s , men

like Redcross and these symbolic fauns and satyrs, she never

knows q u i t e where she i s o r what she should d o , a n d she i s

just as l i k e l y t o do t h e w r o n g t h i n g a l t o g e t h e r . In this

particular instance, s h e a l s o manages to persist i n trying

to do what i s ludicrously impossible, to teach that horned,

tailed and hooved crowd t h e higher t h i n g s i n life. Una i s

v e r y much t h e i n e f f e c t i v e do-gooder here, luckily forher,

because

. . . when t h e i r b o o t l e s s e z e a l e s h e d i d r e s t r a i n e
F r o m h e r own w o r s h i p , t h e y h e r A s s e w o u l d w o r s h i p
fayn (I.vi.19.8-9).

However t h e c o m i c a l danger of her position suddenly

ceases t o matter, because a l l a t once from nowhere Satyrane

appears. He, t o o , i s a symbolic f i g u r e , obviously brought

in so Una c a n r e a c t to him. The l e s s o n of h i s l i f e should

be plain. He i s s a t y r enough t o have developed h i s strength

and courage against the "wyld beasts" i n the forest b u t man

enough t o have progressed beyond t h e s a t y r s a n d become a

knight "Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy o f shame" (I.vi.

20.7), a n d h e d i d i t a l l b e c a u s e , unlike the satyrs, he had

all t h e capacity f o r complete development i n the f i r s t place.

He h a s n e v e r m a d e a n y a t t e m p t to teach them, t o c o n v e r t them,

because he i s mature enough t o r e a l i z e that these savages

 67

can never be m o r e t h a n r u d i m e n t a r y human b e i n g s and that

they are already as healthy and happy as it is possible

for them t o be. Leave w e l l enough a l o n e i s his lesson to

Una. Yet she does n o t see it even when s h e has before her

the obvious comparison between this successful, ordinary

man who h a s h i g h e r capacity and l i t t l e mechanical instinct,

and t h e s e very o r d i n a r y m a l e s who a r e largely mechanisms

with l i t t l e capacity. She does not see it even though

he becomes one o f h e r p u p i l s and l e a r n s well "her discip-

line of f a i t h and v e r i t i e " (I.vi.31.11). P o o r Una i s so

ineffective now s h e cannot recognize a genuine knight when

he s t a n d s before her, so she takes a long time recognizing

what he r e p r e s e n t s for h e r most of a l l at t h e moment, escape.

With t h i s escape, Spenser marks the end o f his comic

treatment of Una, and the completion of his full statement

about h e r . He g i v e s h i s h e r o i n e o n l y one flaw, a very

normal one by w h i c h he draws every reader's sympathy to her

but through which, at the same time, he makes her appear very

often humorous. P o o r Una i s not yet experienced in love,

so she is unable to u n d e r s t a n d o r d i n a r y men, how t h e y will

react to her, a n d how s h e should react to them. She blunders

with the symbolic fauns and s a t y r s and S a t y r a n e and, Spenser

implies, she must go b a c k into serious narrative and b l u n d e r

with the r e a l Redcross, until she grows through experience

into the maturity that will let h e r become an effective

partner with her k n i g h t . Once a g a i n , therefore, Spenser

 63

rigorously shows i n general the broad lesson that maturity

in love affects a l l aspects of living. Once a g a i n , he

has stated his temperate-romantic m o r a l i t y , and t h i s time

he h a s done it w i t h a comic t o u c h . We c a n n o t ask more

from Spenser's humour. Yet, perhaps t h e most interesting

point about this sequence is that it does offer even more,

and t h a t more, of course, is allegory. As t h e comedy rolls

by, a l l readers recognize that Spenser seems t o be using

it to comment q u i c k l y and r e v e a l i n g l y o n s o many subjects.

Most of us, for example, must be tempted to believe that

"Lyon lord" could also be saint George and E n g l a n d , that

Sans-loy is t y p i c a l of many y o u n g men a b o u t court; that

kissing Una's feet possibly parallels k i s s i n g the blessed

ring; and t h a t the horned, t a i l e d and hooved fauns and

satyrs are a good a p p r o x i m a t i o n of most merry E n g l i s h m e n .

S p e n s e r makes such suggestions, he makes them c o m i c a l l y a n d ,

furthermore, he makes them c o n t a i n at least a grain of truth.

A s we r e a d this sequence we cannot help enjoying ourselves

a n d we c a n n o t help l e a r n i n g what Spenser wants us to learn.

Thus once again he makes h i s t e a c h i n g and d e l i g h t i n g con-

tribute to each other.

 69

CHAPTER IV

Spenser works so c a r e f u l l y t h a t on t h e b a s i s of the

n a r r a t i v e alone we can almost s a t i s f y o u r s e l v e s about t h e

fundamental questions o f what t e a c h i n g and d e l i g h t i n g mean

i n t h e F a e r i e Queene, Yet t h e a l l e g o r y s t i l l remains f o r

examination. According t o the " L e t t e r , " Spenser chose i t as

the most p l e a s i n g way o f e x p r e s s i n g t h e s p e c i f i c virtues,

hence we must remember, again, t o approach i t as a t e a c h i n g

method, not as a body of s u b j e c t matter, to see f i r s t how

it teaches r a t h e r than what i t teaches. I n other words t h e

examination of a l l e g o r y , t o o , must f i r s t accept Spenser's

b a s i c assumption t h a t he had t o motivate h i s readers and

then see s p e c i f i c a l l y what he d i d t o m o t i v a t e .

Such an examination, o f course, must c a r r y along w i t h

i t a constant r e a l i z a t i o n t h a t t h e a l l e g o r y i s designed t o

be a f u l l f e a s t , t o be the l e v e l which p r o v i d e s f o r i n d i v i d u -

al d i f f e r e n c e s so t h a t the o r d i n a r y reader may g a i n much,

but t h e most i n t e r e s t e d and the most t a l e n t e d may g a i n

v e r y much more. The a l l e g o r y i s thus d e s c r i b e d as t h e

secondary l e v e l i n no derogatory sense. I t should not be

regarded merely as the l e v e l most complicated and t h e r e f o r e

least v a l u a b l e t o an o r d i n a r y r e a d e r . Rather would i t be

b e t t e r d e s c r i b e d as t h e l e v e l t h e o r d i n a r y r e a d e r approaches
 70

a f t e r he understands t h e n a r r a t i v e , where he g a i n s t h e

fundamental c o n d i t i o n s f o r u n d e r s t a n d i n g the o t h e r , a l l e g o r -

ical level. Hence Spenser's task becomes t o make t h i s

second l e v e l t r u l y a p p e a l i n g f o r a l l h i s r e a d e r s , t o make i t

o f f e r i t s more complex knowledge and more complex d e l i g h t so

e f f i c i e n t l y t h a t o r d i n a r y readers may move through i t w i l l -

i n g l y , w h i l e advanced r e a d e r s w i l l be a b l e t o move i n t o i t

ever more d e e p l y .

The b e s t p l a c e f o r examining a l l e g o r y i s t h e one t o

which Spenser h i m s e l f moves next, the one, i n f a c t , t o which

he must move a f t e r H o l i n e s s and Temperance, t h a t p a r t o f

the poem which p r e s e n t s B r i t o m a r t . With the essence of t h i s

t e a c h i n g e s t a b l i s h e d unmistakably through t h e n a r r a t i v e o f

Books One and Two, Spenser i s o b l i g a t e d next to expose fully

h i s temperate-romantic m o r a l i t y , t o o f f e r i t s more complex

meanings, t h a t i s , he must express i t more completely through

allegory. Hence he i n t r o d u c e s B r i t o m a r t , i n s p e c i f i c

terms the p a t r o n of " C h a s t i t i e , " but i n g e n e r a l a complex

h e r o i n e , k n i g h t , l o v e r and woman, who s t r u g g l e s to complete

her own l o v e s t o r y through Books Three, Four and F i v e . Yet

c r i t i c s o f t e n complain about these t h r e e books. They say,

f o r i n s t a n c e , t h a t Spenser's s u b j e c t matter i s extremely

complicated, t h a t he breaks h i s o r i g i n a l d e s i g n e s t a b l i s h e d

i n t h e f i r s t two books, and t h a t he moves a l t o g e t h e r "with

 71

the d a r i n g inconsequence of A r i o s t o . " But if full ex-

p o s i t i o n of the m o r a l i t y i s h i s main purpose here, then

t h i s s e c t i o n of the poem should be a complex one, a rich

one, where he c a l l s on h i s readers, d o u b t l e s s i n both n a r r a -

t i v e and a l l e g o r y , to go w i d e l y and deeply.

P u t t i n g n a r r a t i v e complexity a s i d e f o r the moment,

how should we begin to examine the Britomart a l l e g o r y ?

C e r t a i n l y with the fundamental p r o v i s o t h a t a reasonably

c o n s c i e n t i o u s reader, a f t e r a l i t t l e p r a c t i c e , should be

a b l e to i n t e r p r e t the g r e a t e r p a r t of Spenser's a l l e g o r y .

To t h i s p r o v i s o we should a l s o add the r e a l i z a t i o n t h a t the

poet has used two a l l e g o r i c a l methods. The first i s straight-

forward p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of a b s t r a c t q u a l i t i e s . The second

a l l o w s him to go w i t h i n a c h a r a c t e r ' s mind, p u l l out various

emotions, embody them, and make them a c t as separate i n -

d i v i d u a l s i n the s t o r y . Looked a t s e p a r a t e l y , these two

methods emphasize the r e a l d i f f i c u l t y a l l e g o r y r e p r e s e n t s

for the r e a d e r . He must be able to s h i f t constantly and

e a s i l y between persons and p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n s . Once more

Spenser's d e f t n e s s becomes evident, f o r he has v e r y decidedly

helped h i s o r d i n a r y readers w i t h t h i s problem by c o n d i t i o n i n g

them i n a p r e l i m i n a r y n a r r a t i v e t h a t i s i n i t s e l f a s h i f t i n g ,

E r n e s t de S e l i n c o u r t , " I n t r o d u c t i o n , " The P o e t i c a l

Works of Edmund Spenser (London, 1947), p. x l v .
 72

magical world. Looked at separately the two methods also

reveal the possible strength of the allegory, a key strength

that tends to f o r e s t a l l the blight of dreary, moral lecture

by i t s e s s e n t i a l l y dramatic presentation of moral facts as

humans interacting. Again Spenser would seem to have skil-

f u l l y smoothed the way f o r h i s readers. Since he appeals

so strongly to r e a l , human experience i n h i s non-real

narrative world, the conclusion i s inevitable that he w i l l

also c a p i t a l i z e on the dramatic p o s s i b i l i t i e s i n h i s non-

r e a l a l l e g o r i c a l world to bring i t s morality to i n t e r e s t i n g ,

significant l i f e .

Returning to the narrative f o r the moment, we have

to begin the examination of Britomart allegory with B r i t o -

mart herself, f o r what she i s i n the narrative sets out the

fundamental conditions f o r understanding her i n the a l l e -

gory. What she i s above a l l i s the knight dominating the

great middle sections of the poem, hence Spenser's most

important character and h i s i d e a l lover. In essence, the

key to understanding Britomart i n narrative i s the very

same key to understanding her i n allegory, f o r i n both

worlds she portrays the i d e a l , chaste lover. Her romantic

quest f o r A r t e g a l l i n story i s the very s t u f f to be taught

i n allegory. Here, f o r the purpose of f u l l exposition,

Spenser introduces a character who well nigh unites, as

neither of the preceding heroes do, the poem's two l e v e l s .

 73

From the p o i n t of view of a l l e g o r y , both e a r l i e r ad-

v e n t u r e s serve t o e x t e r n a l i z e , t o make more c l e a r their

heroes' s t r u g g l e towards a complex, t h e o r e t i c a l virtue.

For i n s t a n c e a l l Redcross' encounters w i t h g i a n t s and

dragons, though r o u s i n g b a t t l e s i n themselves, must never-

t h e l e s s be i n t e r p r e t e d as s t a n d i n g f o r something q u i t e

d i f f e r e n t , h i s s o u l s t r u g g l i n g towards h o l i n e s s . Guyon,

on the o t h e r hand, because h i s temperance i s much more

p r a c t i c a l , o f t e n experiences adventures t h a t are c l o s e r t o

the s p e c i f i c v i r t u e t o be taught i n a l l e g o r y . F o r example,

the t h r e e scenes c l i m a x i n g h i s quest, the temptation i n the

cave of Mammon, the s c h o o l i n g i n the House o f Alma and the

d e s t r u c t i o n of the Bower of B l i s s , i n themselves more

n e a r l y suggest h i s r e j e c t i o n of w o r l d l y g a i n , h i s acceptance

of "reasons r u l e obedient" (II.xi.2.2) and h i s o p p o s i t i o n t o

" l u s t and p l e a s u r e lewd" ( I I . x i i . 7 3 • But B r i t o m a r t i s

the f i n a l s t e p . Through her Spenser comes as c l o s e as

p o s s i b l e to u n i t i n g a l l e g o r y w i t h n a r r a t i v e , and t h e r e f o r e

his f u l l e x p o s i t i o n can h a r d l y help but be adequate, f o r

w i t h both l e v e l s d i r e c t e d towards the one purpose he has

the b e s t chance of a c c o m p l i s h i n g much, of a c c o m p l i s h i n g i t

with every reader, and of a c c o m p l i s h i n g i t a l l very p l e a s -

antly, too.

I f , t h e n , B r i t o m a r t u n i t e s both r o l e s , the remaining

c o n d i t i o n s n e c e s s a r y t o understand her must d e r i v e from her

 74

unifying chastity. Her primary requirement i s so obvious,

and she meets i t so extremely well, that we t e n d o f t e n to

forget how v e r y skilled Spenser was i n c h o o s i n g , f i r s t and

foremost, t o make t h e p a t r o n o f " C h a s t i t i e " a woman. The

choice reveals once again h i s drawing from t h e experience

of real life, f o r by thus d i s t i n g u i s h i n g B r i t o m a r t , he is

being sensible enough t o a p p l y t h i s w o r l d ' s universal,

double standard of sexual freedom even among t h e super

knights of faery land. Indeed, he i s quite consistent i n

grouping a l l themale heroes i n t o t h e second h a l f of his

standard, so t h a t Redcross i s seduced by Duessa, Guyon h a s

to be " r e b u k t " (II.xii.69.2) about lingering with the

"naked Damzelles" (II.xii.63.6) i n the pool before the Bower

of Bliss, and Satyrane, we a r e t o l d specifically, proves

ineffective against Ollyphant because that giant does not

fear him, but only

... Britomart the flowre of chastity;

For he t h e p o w r e o f c h a s t h a n d s m i g h t n o t beare
(III.xi.6.2-3)

The choice also very p l a i n l y embodies i n Britomart Spenser's

most significant lesson on l o v e , t h e one t h e poet works

thoroughly i n t o a l l t h e main romances developing around her,

the one w h e r e i n he g i v e s the r e a l importance i n any love

affair t o t h e woman. She i t is, says Spenser again and again,

who i s the centre of love, who i s t h e v e r y object that

 75

arouses love, who i s the person actually to whom love i s

made. In short, as she goes, so goes the courtship. Hence

t h i s i s the part of the poem where Spenser's women reign

supreme. Even august Arthur appears i n e f f e c t u a l f o r

the f i r s t time here; he cannot catch the f l e e i n g F l o r i m e l l

and has t o spend the night outdoors, cold, sleepless and

tormented with thoughts of the Fairy Queen (III.iv.61.1-2).

But however l o g i c a l l y Spenser's choice hews to the

facts of human nature i t nevertheless presents him with

one fundamental, d i f f i c u l t problem. I f he poses as the

dominating influence f o r the middle h a l f of the poem f i r s t l y

a woman, and secondly a woman chaste at a l l costs, then he

has the inescapable obligation to make her as i n t e r e s t i n g as

possible. Otherwise he w i l l turn away most men readers,

i n f a c t , most readers altogether. This reaction, t o O j i s

one of the f a c t s of human nature. Spenser, of course, does

the proper thing and by means of another choice we tend

often to take f o r granted, that of putting Britomart i n

armour and making her as good a knight as the rest of them.

She i s a doer, an accomplisher among men; i n her f i r s t

twenty-nine stanzas alone she unseats f i v e knights and forces

two to surrender, but yet she i s e n t i r e l y feminine, a " s i l l y

Mayd" ( I I I . i i . 2 7 . 7 ) , pining f o r her lover, and an out-

standing beauty whose "angels face," (IV.vi.19.5) when they

f i r s t view i t , sends Scudamour and A r t e g a l l to t h e i r knees.

 76

Therefore as super warrior and super woman she i s once

more a unifying figure, t h i s time the heroine who combines

the outstanding q u a l i t i e s of both sexes, the heroine who

i s bound to s t r i k e i n t e r e s t , or opposition, wherever she

goes. Few combinations of q u a l i t i e s could be more i n t e r -

esting i n narrative or allegory.

This union of woman-man gives even more interest to

Britomart, f o r just as soon as Spenser poses a heroine

v e r i l y weeping f o r love, and sends her into the world

disguised as a man to look f o r love, does he rouse a smile

in most of h i s readers. Furthermore because t h i s i s Spenser,

whose heroines always win i n the end, once again a l l readers

may relax and enjoy themselves. And Britomart i s meant to

be enjoyed. This i s why Spenser i s c a r e f u l t o postpone

the d e t a i l i n g of her background and quest u n t i l Canto Two,

and t o introduce her as already i n action, i n a Canto One

that seems to have been designed especially to unreel a

succession of comic events. F i r s t comes Guyon, so thoroughly

tossed and so thoroughly angry that Arthur has to calm

Temperance with the straight-faced l i e about h i s horse

swerving and h i s saddle not being t i e d on t i g h t l y . Then

i n , or rather past, gallops F l o r i m e l l , pale, frightened,

s i l e n t , a perfect moving tableau of the maiden pursued by

l u s t , whose melodramatic misfortune arouses Arthur, Guyon

and Timias to spur to her rescue as f a s t "as they mote f l y "

 77

(III.i.18.4). Next appear Malecasta's s i x champions,

whom Britomart defeats singlehandedly i n ten b r i e f l i n e s ,

and thereupon enters the Castle Joyous i t s e l f . Here

she undergoes a scene of outright burlesque, Malecasta's

"panting s o f t , " s l i p p i n g into bed beside her, and then

shrieking the whole castle awake i n the f r i g h t of dis-

covery. Most c e r t a i n l y Spenser deliberately planned to

introduce Britomart through comedy, but he i s not by any

means implying with Canto One that h i s heroine s h a l l be

e n t i r e l y humorous. Neither Spenser, nor any one of us,

would ever attempt to claim that v i r t u e i s anything but a

serious matter and so he has h i s heroine encounter tragic

situations. Yet he i s obviously stressing i n t h i s f i r s t

canto that necessary, basic humour which must underly

Britomart s character.
1
And so he should, f o r i s t h i s

humour not another r e f l e c t i o n from the experience of r e a l

life? His i s the sensible attitude, the mature a t t i t u d e ,

that allows him to look at young Chastity with kindly humour

and then send her through adventures varying from the comic

to the serious. That most of the world loves to read about

such a l o v e r hardly needs stressing.

Britomart i s frequently sent into humorous action,

then, and l a r g e l y to make her appealing to a l l readers. So

the problem at the moment i s t o begin to understand how

Spenser c a p i t a l i z e s on her humour i n the allegory. I f she

 73

represents l o v e on both the poem's l e v e l s , and i f the

a l l e g o r i c a l l e v e l bears the more complex t e a c h i n g , the

e a s i e s t b e g i n n i n g would seem t o l i e i n u n d e r s t a n d i n g how

Britomart a f f e c t s the main l o v e a f f a i r s a r i s i n g round her,

a f f e c t s t h e i r r e a l , a l l e g o r i c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e , not t h e i r sur-

face turmoil. The one c h a r a c t e r i s t i c t h a t l e t s her react

w i t h a l l these d i f f e r i n g l o v e r s i s the b a s i c incongruity

of her d i s g u i s e , t h a t i s , of her a b i l i t y t o a c t both as

woman and man. In o t h e r words, Spenser i s again b u i l d i n g

his humour on the c o n f l i c t of o p p o s i t e s . Thus as vigorous

Britomart touches a p a i r of l o v e r s i n n a r r a t i v e , she stirs

up complex i n t e r e s t i n g t u r m o i l , but as she touches them i n

a l l e g o r y , her e f f e c t i s much more s u b t l e , indeed i t o n l y

r e a l l y becomes c l e a r i n terms of what the l o v e r s a c t u a l l y

stand f o r and how Britomart a l t e r s t h i s a l l e g o r i c a l meaning.

For example, the f i r s t main l o v e s t o r y she becomes

i n v o l v e d w i t h i s t h a t of F l o r i m e l l and M a r i n e l l . In narra-

t i v e t h i s s t o r y c o n s i s t s of a long s e r i e s of f i g h t s and

p u r s u i t s and captures which the hero and heroine suffer

u n t i l they are u n i t e d h a p p i l y i n Book V. In a l l e g o r y , of

course, the a c t i o n s t i l l speaks of l o v e , and derives really

from the c h a r a c t e r s of the l o v e r s themselves r a t h e r than the

e x t e r n a l o b s t a c l e s met i n story. I t i s not the godly pro-

phecy o r the imprisonment i n the "Dongeon deepe" (Ill.viii.

 79

41.8) t h a t cause the s e p a r a t i o n ; not any such hindrance

from without, but r a t h e r a hindrance from w i t h i n , and to

grasp t h i s more s u b t l e hindrance one has t o i n t e r p r e t ex-

a c t l y what t h i s k n i g h t and l a d y r e p r e s e n t i n the a l l e g o r y .

Most r e a d e r s can see with l i t t l e d i f f i c u l t y t h a t F l o r i m e l l

i s an admirable young lady from the court, wooed by many

k n i g h t s y e t mature enough t o decide f o r h e r s e l f the one

she wants. M a r i n e l l , on the other hand, though extremely

well-born, extremely r i c h , and an extremely f i n e knight,

does not want anybody, f o r he i s the only son of a powerful

mother who f u s s e d over him, o b t a i n e d a prophecy t h a t a

young l a d y would one day do him g r e a t harm (III.iv.25,26),

and thereupon persuaded him t o a v o i d a l l young l a d i e s . Thus

M a r i n e l l i s another immature young man, specifically im-

mature i n t h a t he i s f e a r f u l about, and i s t r y i n g to a v o i d ,

l o v e . But Spenser maintains, and a l l readers w i l l agree with

him, t h a t he who t r i e s t o a v o i d l o v e o n l y postpones the i n -

e v i t a b l e , and so i n e v i t a b l y Britomart appears. Marinell

a c c o s t s what he b e l i e v e s to be a strange knight on h i s " r i c h

s t r o n d " (III.iv.20.8) and f o r h i s proud pains r e c e i v e s a

wound t h a t b r i n g s him e v e n t u a l l y to F l o r i m e l l ' s dungeon

where, weakened and chastened, he f a l l s i n l o v e merely from

hearing her "her great misery bemone" (IV.xii.12.9). There-

f o r e f u l l j u s t i c e has been d e a l t and i t has been d e a l t by

Britomart. She o n l y has to touch the l o v e s t o r y of F l o r i m e l l

 30

and M a r i n e l l once, but t h a t once i s a d e l i c i o u s thump

which s e t s o f f a whole p a t t e r n of c o n t r a s t s . Her d i s g u i s e

produces the n a r r a t i v e wound and f u l f i l l s t h e prophecy, but

the wound i s a l s o a l l e g o r i c a l , and on t h i s l e v e l too i t a c t s

to change M a r i n e l l from an o v e r p r o t e c t e d young man depending

on h i s mother, t o a normal young man, deeply i n l o v e and

depending f o r h i s very l i f e on the presence of h i s beloved

lady. No reader can h e l p e n j o y i n g B r i t o m a r t ' s demonstration

of the u n i v e r s a l t r u t h t h a t l o v e conquers a l l , and Spenser's

r e i t e r a t i o n t h a t a mature a t t i t u d e towards l o v e i s p r e -

r e q u i s i t e t o maturity i n a l l l i v i n g . Spenser has indeed

c a p i t a l i z e d on B r i t o m a r t ' s u n i f y i n g p o s i t i o n t o put moral-

ity e f f i c i e n t l y and a p p e a l i n g l y .

I t i s a p p r o p r i a t e to ask now whether he a l s o o f f e r s

a g e n u i n e l y f u l l f e a s t i n a l l e g o r y , whether he p r o v i d e s much

for the o r d i n a r y reader and much more f o r the advanced, and

whether he h e l p s a l l r e a d e r s to move e a s i l y among persons

and p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n s . One of the most unmistakably allegoric'

a l occurrences among B r i t o m a r t ' s adventures i s the Mask of

Cupid, which appears a t f i r s t sight a rather mechanical,

a r t i f i c i a l d e v i c e , but s i n c e i t p r e s e n t s the s e r i o u s B r i t o -

mart d e a l i n g with m a r r i e d l o v e gone wrong, i t i s an e x c e l l e n t

p l a c e t o see s p e c i f i c a l l y what Spenser does with allegory.

Obviously h i s f i r s t step i s to prepare f o r the Mask

 81

very c a r e f u l l y . He s t a r t s w e l l towards the b e g i n n i n g o f

the p r e c e d i n g canto when, i n f a c t , B r i t o m a r t f i r s t meets

and t a l k s w i t h Scudamour. Though the k n i g h t seems t o f e e l

s i n c e r e l y the l o s s of Amoret, he appears an e x c e s s i v e l y

i n e f f e c t u a l husband, unarmed, " g r o v e l i n g " ( I I I . x i . 8 . 1 ) on

the ground, and h o p e l e s s l y r e l a t i n g h i s sad s t o r y . Vigorous,

p r a c t i c a l Britomart w i l l have none o f i t . She t e l l s him

crisply,

That a l l t h e sorrow i n t h e world i s l e s s e ,

Then v e r t u e s might, and v a l u e s c o n f i d e n c e ,
(III.xi.14.6-7).

then stands him up, g a t h e r s h i s arms, buckles them on,

c a t c h e s h i s horse - i n s h o r t , takes him o f f t o where Amoret

is imprisoned.

The c a s t l e o f Busirane t u r n s out a t once t o be

unusual, f o r i t has no proper gate with p o r t e r , but an en-

t r a n c e guarded by f l a m i n g , sulphurous f i r e . Dismayed, s i n c e

t h i s w i l l e v i d e n t l y be no simple rescue accomplished by

straightforward m i l i t a r y attack, p r a c t i c a l Britomart turns to

Scudamour, n o t f o r p h y s i c a l h e l p , but f o r i n f o r m a t i o n about

what procedure t o f o l l o w , "And how we with our f o e may come

to f i g h t " (Ill.xi.23.4). The k n i g h t merely r e i t e r a t e s t h a t

h i s and Amoret's p o s i t i o n s are h o p e l e s s . Thereupon Vigorous

B r i t o m a r t t u r n s her back on him and s t r i d e s r i g h t a t t h e

 82

flames, which mysteriously separate to l e t her pass. At

t h i s sight, Scudamour f i n a l l y comes to l i f e . "With greedy

w i l l , and envious desire" he orders the flames to y i e l d

him way, but they only rage more f i e r c e l y and drive him back

" a l l scorcht and p i t i f u l l y brent" (Ill.xi.26.3.9), whereupon

he f l i n g s himself on the ground, beating his head and breast,

l e t Spenser i s careful at t h i s point to remark that Scuda-

mour i s tormented not from the pain of burning, but rather from

"great sorrow, that he could not pas" (III.xi.27.2) success-

f u l l y with Britomart. From t h i s information, the reader

must conclude that there i s something quite unusually sig-

n i f i c a n t about t h i s f i r e . And of course there i s ; i t cannot

be a r e a l f i r e at a l l , at l e a s t , a f i r e that burns physic-

ally. S t i l l i t i s a b a r r i e r that repels Britomart f o r a

while but, once she turns away from Scudamour and acts d i r -

ectly on her own, admits her to the place where Amoret i s .

But then i t increases to repulse Scudamour when he uses

s i m i l a r , d i r e c t entrance t a c t i c s . Why i s he denied admission

to the place where Amoret i s ? The reason evidently l i e s i n

the pattern of his emotional reactions, and the key to h i s

reacting as he does l i e s i n the a l l e g o r i c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e of

that f i r e . By now Spenser has led the reader to the only

conclusion possible. The f i r e i s Amoret h e r s e l f , or at least

that part of Amoret's thoughts and feelings which separate

 S3

her from her husband. T h i s must be another example of

married love gone wrong, and surely the only p e r s o n who can

help Amoret w i t h h e r problem i s another woman, especially a

woman who exemplifies wholesome love. Surely, also, the

only person who cannot help is the husband and surely, once

more, every time he t r i e s w o u l d he not end up shouting and

demanding, and then be r e j e c t e d e v e r more angrily? Cer-

tainly he w o u l d . And j u s t as certainly would a r e a l or

allegorical B r i t o m a r t become determined to help him.

Spenser's specific preparation for the Mask t h e r e f o r e con-

sists of letting the reader approach it through a series of

clues, given first i n the external narrative and t h e n , more

importantly, i n the thoughts and f e e l i n g s of Britomart and

Scudamour. These two approaches coalesce at the fiery

door, w h i c h becomes t h e main c l u e , since with it Spenser

indicates he is about to lead the reader off into allegory

at the very moment w h e n the reader can predict how B r i t o m a r t

will attempt to help Amoret, or can p r e d i c t at least the

general psychological essence of Britomart's attempt, even

if he is not yet aware of the specific allegorical mechanics

Spenser will use to express this help. In other words, the

poet has taken very great pains through these preliminary

steps to help his reader make t h a t always necessary and al-

ways d i f f i c u l t shift from narrative to allegory.

As B r i t o m a r t steps through the flames, then, she

 #4

takes the reader into Spenser's a l l e g o r i c a l world. Again

one must ask what the poet actually does with t h i s world,

and again the answer seems to be that he uses i t f i r s t to

prepare f o r the Mask. He i s preparing the reader, of course,

not Britomart. What happens to the heroine i s simple

narrative action hardly worth mentioning, so simple that the

reader has already guessed. As a mature woman with a calm,

direct approach, she f i r s t dispenses with the emotional

husband, and then gains the confidence of the upset wife.

For some time now she w i l l have to l i s t e n as Amoret calms

down and gradually t e l l s her side of the entangled story.

At the same time Britomart w i l l have to console, to plan

some action and f i n a l l y get Amoret to agree to the action.

Spenser has so managed h i s clues that no other conduct would

be f e a s i b l e . And i s he not also wise i n by-passing t h i s

section of narrative? No reader would concentrate f o r long

on such dreary feminine speeches leading up to the foregone

conclusion that Amoret w i l l accept Britomart's help and go

off with her for a time. The important, and therefore

i n t e r e s t i n g , element i n the whole interchange i s Britomart s 1

synthesizing of the f a c t s related by Amoret, the information

the g i r l reveals unconsciously as to her emotional state,

and the various attitudes already displayed by Scudamour

into a complete i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of what i s r e a l l y wrong with

t h i s entangled marriage and what can be done about i t .

 35

Spenser's specific problem thus becomes t o arrange the

allegory so t h a t his reader will be able to f o l l o w and will

want to f o l l o w the subtle workings of B r i t o m a r t ' s mind as

it moves to this interpretation.

The i n t e r e s t i n g question which arises at once is how

t h e human m i n d w o r k s , or rather, how S p e n s e r will portray

it as working. He l e a v e s n o t i m e for doubt but begins as

soon as he has Britomart through the door, w i t h two lines

which contribute l i t t l e i n f o r m a t i o n but a great deal of

meaning.

The u t m o s t rowme, and p a s t the formest d o r e ,

The u t m o s t rowme, abounding w i t h a l l precious
store (III.xi.27.8-9).

The significance here lies i n the r e p e t i t i o n of the first

three words, and the repetition of the slow, soft sounds

throughout both l i n e s and, in fact, at the end o f the

preceding line and the b e g i n n i n g of the following one.

Read a l o u d , these two lines murmur v e r y much l i k e one of

Archimago's incantations, and thereby of course Spenser

immediately gives his necessary, preliminary clue.

B r i t o m a r t ' s mind w i l l work l i k e a mind i n a dream, slowly,

quietly, w i t h few words b u t many scenes, that is, altogether

irrationally. Thus, through this choice of a dream semblance,

Spenser has very neatly led his reader i n t o an entirely

 86

imaginative, a l l e g o r i c a l world yet at the same time made

that world extremely real and understandable from the very

f a c t that the reader's mind has been there many times before.

Probably one should note here that the poet seems about to

capture the r e a l i t y of human experience even i n h i s dream-

l i k e a l l e g o r i c a l world.

Presuming then that the reader and Britomart have

slipped into the same dream, what i s to be seen i n i t and

deduced from i t ? Britomart notes f i r s t that the walls are

covered with r i c h , goodly tapestry, "Woven with gold and

s i l k e , " which nevertheless shine "Like a discoloured Snake"

(Ill.xi.28.3,8). The reason f o r t h i s unattractiveness

seems to l i e i n the many pictures woven therein, which were

" a l l of love, and a l l of lusty-hed." Would the reader not

want to conclude that here Britomart i s confronting Amoret

and forming as a f i r s t impression that the g i r l has a l l

the trappings of a courtly lady but that "lusty-hed" or

"Cupids warres" (III.xi.29.3,5) i n some form seem to be her

problem. Having established t h i s general premise, the

heroine would c e r t a i n l y then ask Amoret d i r e c t l y what i s

wrong, and undoubtedly the answer would be a long, emotional

outburst during which Britomart could do l i t t l e but l i s t e n

quietly. This outburst, i n fact occurs i n the form of the

seventeen stanzas of digression about the scenes on the

 • 87

tapestries. At the same time nevertheless, t h i s digression

indicates that Britomart's mind i s not i d l e , f o r there i s

a consistent theme r e f l e c t e d i n each one of these flicker-

ing impressions, the theme that Cupid attacks a l l the gods,

lords and l a d i e s , and even the "vulgar s o r t " ( I I I . x i . 4 6 . 2 )

u n t i l they a l l taste his "sweet consuming woe" (III,xi.45.4).

Judging by t h i s r e i t e r a t e d theme, then, Britomart i s paying

s t r i c t attention to Amoret, but a c a r e f u l reader w i l l also

deduce from these r e f l e c t i o n s that Britomart goes a step

further than Amoret, considers Amoret's statements too

simple an explanation, and places another, more complex

i n t e r p r e t a t i o n on the long outburst. Chastity's mind agrees

that Amoret i s a t h r a l l of love, but i n s i s t s , i n every

single r e f l e c t i o n , that t h i s i s a p a r t i c u l a r kind of love.

It i s Cupid's love, the love marked, f o r instance, by Jove

disguising himself l i k e a ram, " f a i r e Helle to pervart"

( I l l . x i . 3 0 . 5 ) or Neptune becoming a dolphin "To snaky-locke

Medusa to repayre" (III.xi.42.8). This love, i n short, i s

closer to temporary l u s t , or perhaps degenerate courtly love,

than to Britomart's chastity. The double i n t e r p r e t a t i o n

comes to a focus i n the statue of Cupid, which appears next

and marks as i t were, the end of the long, preliminary out-

burst. At t h i s point, then, Amoret and Britomart both agree

that love has gone wrong, but disagree i n t h e i r d e f i n i t i o n

of love.
 33

After t h i s long, preliminary sweep the pattern of

r e f l e c t i o n changes. There i s s t i l l silence and description,

but words begin to appear also. Underneath the statue

Britomart reads a motto, "Unto the V i c t o r of the Gods t h i s

bee," adds the remark that a l l the people of t h i s house

worship Cupid with "fowle Idolatree," and then stands through

four l i n e s "amazed," wondering, with "her f r a i l e sences

dazed" ( I I I . x i . 4 9 ) . Any reader can probably deduce that,

with Amoret now calmer, Chastity i s beginning to ask a

few questions and w i l l undoubtedly f e e l rather amazed at some

of the r e p l i e s . The f i r s t answer i s r e f l e c t e d i n the motto

and the comment, which seem to add up to Britomart's con-

clusion that Amoret a c t u a l l y believes i n t h i s kind of

love. Next comes the phrase "Be bold,'V which Britomart

sees as she turns around backwards and looks at the room's

entrance; whereupon she stands staring at the words, through

f i v e l i n e s t h i s time, and also wonders what i s meant. Then

she seems to i n t e r p r e t the meaning of the phrase, because

she moves forward into the next room "with bold steps"

(III.xi.50.9). This room i s much more ornate, i n that i t

i s o v e r l a i d with r e a l gold. The walls s t i l l display scenes

of love i n a "thousand monstrous formes" (III.xi.51.7) but

i n addition are hung with the shattered weapons of famous

conquerors who had been caught by love and "wrought t h e i r

own decayes" ( I I I . x i . 5 2 . 5 ) . Undoubtedly t h i s sequence i n -

 39

dicates that Britomart, amazed at Amoret's conception of

love, boldly steps closer to the heart of the matter and

asks another question. The r e p l y w a l l o w s ever deeper in

false love. Perhaps there i s also a hint of defence in

the fact that t h e famous of t h i s world have also been slaves

to such l o v e . A t any r a t e , the reply is sufficiently up-

setting t o make B r i t o m a r t stand, through a whole stanza

this time, and wonder on the " w a s t e f u l l emptiness" (III.

xi.53.6). At this frustrating point, t h e same p h r a s e "Be

bold" begins t o appear a l l over t h e door and w a l l s , i n the

typical jumbled r e p e t i t i o n o f a dream. Then "Be n o t t o o

bold" appears on another door which itself appears at the

upper end o f t h i s second room. Britomart seems confused;

she does n o t know what to d o ; she " c o u l d n o t construe i t "

(III.xi.54). After a l l , how c a n s h e p r o c e e d to straighten

out Amoret? She must persist, but not too emotionally.

Practically, mature Britomart follows the only possible

course. She pauses; she w a i t s "untill eventyde," always

alert and, with "her welpointed weapons" (III.xi.55.1,9) at

the ready, she c a r e f u l l y thinks h e r way t h r o u g h to the right

method of helping Amoret. This right method, one m i g h t

also note, whatever i t s particular details, seems t o involve

a reversion to Spenser's essentially calm, mature approach

to the solving of moral problems.

The f i r s t point the reader will probably notice about

 90

B r i t o m a r t * s method i s t h a t "chearelesse Night" (III.xii.1.1)

has nothing to do w i t h r e a l n i g h t , or a day and n i g h t se-

quence, o r even w i t h any f i x e d period of time extending

between day and n i g h t . A n y o n e who h a s b e e n i n a dream knows

that day, night, t i m e mean n o t h i n g i n t h e m s e l v e s ; they, too,

are indicators. What t h e n could they indicate? Undoubtedly,

for one t h i n g , that Britomart is waiting patiently, "sted-

fast," (III.xii.2.9) and y e t f e e l i n g depressed. The

depression can be accounted f o r i n the p o s i t i o n to which

she has a r r i v e d w i t h Amoret. The g i r l is seriously en-

tangled by f a l s e ideas of love, and C h a s t i t y is sensible

enough t o know t h a t i t is impossible to lecture morality

quickly, to maintain heatedly that, " I am r i g h t and you are

wrong, so y o u b e q u i c k and do what I say." Indeed, Scudamour

had been t r y i n g such methods and had only succeeded in

making matters worse. Sensible Britomart patiently reverts

to the only effective method, t o what is really Spenser's

method of allowing ordinary, imperfect humans t o l e a r n by

doing, t o work their own w a y t o w a r d s morality, but always

with the condition that expert guidance must be n e a r when

the learner realizes t h e need of i t . B r i t o m a r t t h e n must be

content to wait and watch as Amoret h e r s e l f works towards a

full a w a r e n e s s o f h e r own s i t u a t i o n . The o n l y a c t i v e step

Chastity can t a k e i s t o ask the important question that will

 91

s t a r t Amoret t a l k i n g and thinking and f e e l i n g , and then

hope that the g i r l w i l l achieve a sensible answer before

long. That question i s undoubtedly reflected i n the

" s h r i l l i n g Trompet sound," which noticeably, f o r per-

plexed Britomart, may indicate either "nigh b a t t e l l , or got

v i c t o r y " (III.xii.1.5-6).

The t o t a l course of Amoret's struggle i s obviously

reflected i n the Mask i t s e l f , and t h i s struggle begins, as

armed Britomart has expected, not with any l o g i c a l thoughts,

but a "hideous storme" (III.xii.2.1) of wind and smoke, a

violent storm of painful emotions, which the Britonesse

must endure p a t i e n t l y . Yet the emotions do f i n a l l y wrench

open the innermost door, whereupon Amoret produces her f i r s t

recognizable thought i n the image of the "grave personage"

(III.xii.3.6) who s i g n i f i c a n t l y holds a l a u r e l branch, cer-

t a i n l y a victorious sign that negative emotions are spent

and Amoret i s at l a s t beginning to think p o s i t i v e l y . The

actual s t u f f of the Mask, i t s characters and t h e i r actions,

therefore embodies Amoret's thoughts. Certainly the reader

w i l l i n t e r p r e t the symbols as r e f l e c t i n g a detailed state-

ment about courtly love. Indeed, the very labels Britomart's

mind attaches to each figure lead the reader unmistakably.

Does not courtly love begin with "Ease," to the accompaniment

of joyous "Minstrals"? And are the f i r s t steps not "Fancy"

and "Desyre," intermingled with "Doubt," "Daunger" and "Feare"

 92

followed by some "Hope," "Dissemblance," "Fury" and

"Pleasance"? Certainly by t h i s stage any " f a i r e Dame"!

would have become irrevocably entangled, and so the personi-

f i c a t i o n of captive Amoret appears, with breast slashed and

heart exposed t o express that "her dew honour was despoyled

quight" ( I I I . x i i . 2 0 . 4 ) . Cupid rides gloating behind her and

proudly leads f o r t h a l l the f i n a l consequences of courtly

love, culminating i n a "rude confused rout" of which the end

i s "Death with infamie" ( I I I . x i i . 2 5 . 1 . 9 ) . On the other hand,

the beauties of t h i s Mask, i t s colours, i t s movements, i t s

v a r i e t y , i t s very figures are a l l Britomart's, and once more

a l l the evidence adds up to another more complex i n t e r -

pretation. No reader could miss the revulsion and, f i n a l l y ,

outright horror i n Chastity's mind as the pageant develops

towards the ghastly embodiment of Amoret and then subsides

with the prediction of eventual death. Nevertheless, des-

pite t h i s horror, the important fact f o r both women i s that

Amoret's story i s now out i n the open where something can be

done about i t .

However, maturity never occurs quickly. Chastity

must s t i l l wait p a t i e n t l y u n t i l Amoret herself decides first,

that she must break with courtly love completely and second,

These names come from the f i r s t l i n e s of Stanzas 7,

9, 10, 11, 1 2 , 1 3 , 1 4 , 1 6 , 18, 1 9 .
 93

that Chastity is the one t o help her. The f i r s t decision

arises the very next moment t h e girl feels able to begin

talking again. As soon as Amoret opens up h e r mind,

Britomart strides boldly through t h i s last, inmost door and

obviously asks the final, and most important question.

That their s i t u a t i o n has reached its last, either-or stage

is represented i n the horrible tableau of Amoret d y i n g in

bonds, d a b b l i n g i n b l o o d and B r i t o m a r t s t a n d i n g w i t h raised

sword. Here the only alternative facing Amoret i s death

with courtly love or life with Chastity. What a final

decision i t is, and not r e a c h e d with ease, either, for

Britomart is wounded i n its making. But Amoret makes the

right choice and B r i t o m a r t c a p t u r e s Busirane. Nevertheless,

as B r i t o m a r t had noted significantly at the Mask's beginning,

only she with "feeble senses" and a "fraile soule" (Ill.xii.

6.4,5) f a l l s so r e a d i l y i n t o such l o v e . Amoret is by no

means cured; she cannot even agree to Busirane's execution,

only his imprisonment. Therefore, as the final part of the

rescue, ever-sensible Britomart decides to stay with Amoret

until the girl is properly schooled i n the significance of

chastity, a schooling that needs nine full cantos and the

additional help of Arthur for completion.

We may n o w s e e that Spenser handles his allegory with

as much f l e x i b i l i t y as he does h i s narrative. Most cer-

tainly i n the Mask of C u p i d he c a p i t a l i z e s very s k i l f u l l y on

 94

the basic dramatic p o s s i b i l i t i e s of allegory. Surely no

lecturing method would have induced quite the same emotion-

al appeal here as the figures marching through Britomart's

mind o r , for that matter, would have expressed quite as

much m o r a l i t y so concisely. In truth, t h e Mask o f Cupid

is a full f e a s t where the reader may s i m p l y choose the

externals of a very real, exciting dream c a s t as a knightly

adventure o r may s p e n d much t i m e w o r k i n g o u t the implica-

tions of a l l its characters and symbols. In a broader view,

any reader will probably find such complex a l l e g o r y with

its fuller offering even more interesting than the simpler,

one-plane narrative, and n o t merely because there happens

to be more m o r a l i t y t h e r e . Whenever d i d advanced moral

theory attract many r e a d e r s per se? Rather Spenser inter-

ests by t h e way he h a n d l e s allegory, and the key to this

handling is dramatic i n a s p e c i a l way. Granted h i s ideas

crystallize into persons,images, even monsters who a c t and

who t a l k , nevertheless, they never reveal everything dir-

ectly. E s s e n t i a l l y the more complex ideas must be worked

out by t h e reader himself, even on t h i s most advanced teach-

ing level; therefore, the emphasis is centred squarely on

the reader-learner. I n one way, Spenser presents an entic-

ing moral puzzle, and whenever did a detective story not

attract many r e a d e r s per se? T h a t many o f Spenser's readers

do p e r s i s t in interpreting even u n t o his allegorical level

 95

i s surely unquestionable, and surely t h i s persistence i s

evidence of h i s success both as moral t h e o r i s t and story-

t e l l e r , as teacher and delighter.

 96

CONCLUSION

Spenser i s , then, both teacher and delighter, but

when we attempt to come to a balanced understanding of the

poem as a whole i t i s the delighting we must remember to

look f o r primarily, and simply because, as Spenser himself

r e a l i z e d so well, the teaching cannot be successful un-

less i t i s accompanied by, and indeed expressed through,

the delighting. Certainly we a l l acknowledge both the

ideals, but possibly because we bear ourselves too seriously

as evaluators approaching a poetic masterpiece, we tend to

look only at the C h r i s t i a n i t y , or the p o l i t i c s , or the glow-

ing poetry, and seldom take systematic stock of the comic

r e l i e f , the irony, the love interest, the f a l l i b l e h e r o e s —

of a l l the i n t e r e s t i n g events Spenser deliberately puts

everywhere i n the narrative. Yet these events do not stand

as mere sugar-coating f o r h i s lesson; rather they become a

genuine part of that lesson f o r they present man as he

r e a l l y i s , morally. Perhaps once again Spenser proves more

modern and progressive than most of us, f o r i n t h i s poem,

which sets out to form us i n virtue, he succeeds i n showing

us that the so-called f r i l l s i n learning may be very d e f i n i t e

contributors.

At l e a s t , he i d demonstrably more progressive than

 97

many of h i s modern c r i t i c s . They have spent a l a r g e part

of t h e i r time drawing from w i t h i n and without the poem

a most i n t e r e s t i n g and most u s e f u l body o f f a c t s . Yet such

i n f o r m a t i o n takes on even more s i g n i f i c a n c e i f the facts

are e x p l a i n e d as c o n t r i b u t i n g to the poem's u n d e r l y i n g

purpose, and the modern ( c r i t i c s ) d i s a p p o i n t h e r e , because

they tend to remain c o n s e r v a t i v e , to ignore Spenser's

delighting, and hence r a r e l y t o push t h e i r a n a l y s e s of fact

through to an adequate e x p l a n a t i o n of the poem. For example,

we would p r e f e r them to be a l i t t l e l e s s mechanical i n t h e i r

approach to S p e n s e r ' s d i c t i o n , the d i c t i o n w i t h the imitative,

antique f l a v o u r t h a t seems to have aroused c o n t r o v e r s y

always. P o s s i b l y they might push more o f t e n beyond simple

a n a l y s i s of the k i n d s of words he uses to a more meaningful

e x p l a n a t i o n of how those words c o n t r i b u t e to the o r d i n a r y

reader's pleasure. Granted, they have proven t h a t a page o f

the F a e r i e Queene p r e s e n t s few r e a l v o c a b u l a r y difficulties,

and they have e x p l a i n e d t h a t Spenser v a r i e s h i s words to fit

v a r y i n g purposes, but they have not shown any r e a l concern

f o r whether t h a t o v e r a l l , antique diction is a pleasing

vehicle f o r the k n i g h t l y t a l e s or whether the v a r i o u s changes

i n d i c t i o n operate to make the poem more d e l i g h t f u l to

o r d i n a r y r e a d e r s , not critics.

C e r t a i n l y many modern c r i t i c s have attempted to work

 98

broadly and organize their interpretations of t h i s poem by

analysing i t s underlying purpose, but too frequently they

accept the one purpose, teaching, and ignore the delighting

altogether. As a r e s u l t , they look for what they think

Spenser i s attempting to teach, not for what he wishes to

teach, f o r g e t t i n g that h i s choice and presentation of subject

matter are determined by the reader-learner, not the depth

of available subject matter. Usually t h e i r only conces-

sion to delighting i s an admission that Spenser condescended

to embody each virtue i n a knight who must struggle through

worldly temptations to condition himself i n that v i r t u e .

In other words, the c r i t i c s o f f e r l i t t l e more than a general

d e f i n i t i o n of an a l l e g o r i c a l figure, and leave to us the

whole question of how Spenser makes each knight human,

valuable and interesting, both i n narrative and a l l e g o r y .

Yet a l l the delight i s there, and the c r i t i c s cannot help

at times meeting i t ; when they do, f a r too often they become

annoyed. Theirs i s the overly conservative view, that when

a passage i s obviously moral, or p o l i t i c a l or p o e t i c a l l y

b e a u t i f u l , i t i s good s t u f f , but when, f o r instance, i t i s

obviously humorous, i t i s poor stuff, at l e a s t , i n a poem

seeking to form us i n v i r t u e .

Nevertheless we have l i t t l e excuse f o r neglecting

Spenser's delighting, f o r we could not have a more emphatic

introduction to the poem than the "Letter to Ralegh." Herein

 99

Spenser states repeatedly that he chose every element

to make h i s end more "plausible and p l e a s i n g . " He there-

fore d r e w o n l y what he needed f r o m Homer a n d V i r g i l and

from A r i o s t o and Tasso, and t h e n b l e n d e d i t with stories

about British knights, most importantly the legendary

Arthur, to produce an h i s t o r i c a l f i c t i o n w h i c h h i s parti-

cular readers would want to follow for outright pleasure

as w e l l as profit. He e v e n altered narrative chronology,

by s t a r t i n g the first story i n t h e m i d d l e of the year be-

tween Gloriana's feasts, to give the f i c t i o n more interest-

ing variety. His specific moral virtues, too, were evolved

with delighting i n mind. They a r e n o t p u r e philosophy,

pure A r i s t o t l e . They a r e much l i k e the v i r t u e s Aristotle

discusses, but, in knightly allegory, they appeal much

more t o the reader's common s e n s e . Thus Spenser reveals

repeatedly i n the "Letter" that he used both teaching and

delighting when he p u t the poem t o g e t h e r , that he considered

both ideals absolutely essential, but that, of the two, he

probably stressed the d e l i g h t i n g more, simply because he

was p r o g r e s s i v e enough t o realize that his readers-learners

would gain l i t t l e profit from h i s morality i f they d i d not

first gain from i t a good d e a l of delight.

Therefore he introduces the delight immediately at

the very opening of the Faerie Queene. Indeed the whole

 100

narrative development with Redcross and Una i s an unmis-

takable attempt to catch and r e t a i n the reader's i n t e r e s t .

This beginning, of course, presents Spenser with the great

problem of handling both the narrative l e v e l and the

a l l e g o r i c a l l e v e l , of allowing each to run i t s independent

way and make i t s own contribution, and yet of uniting both

i n h i s characters, who must be able to l i v e believably i n

both narrative and a l l e g o r i c a l worlds. Hence immediately

he puts Redcross and Una into a magical setting, where the

p r o b a b i l i t y of r e a l l i f e does not matter, so that h i s hero

and heroine, and a l l h i s readers, may move f r e e l y from the

one magical l e v e l to the other, from the narrative world

to the a l l e g o r i c a l . Yet Redcross and Una are no mere l i f e -

less f i g u r e s . Spenser makes them appear as two inexper-

ienced young people who grow through very human mistakes

into mature lovers and partners, and i n t h i s way, through

t h e i r simple narrative adventures, he makes them not o n l y

a t t r a c t i v e to every reader but also valuable as teachers

of p r a c t i c a l moral conduct. He even puts them i n outright

comic r e l i e f , and again not merely f o r the reader's enter-

tainment, but as a genuine r e f l e c t i o n of the experience

of r e a l l i f e . Surely pure fun plays a d e l i g h t f u l and useful

part i n a l l our l i v e s .

Spenser also both teaches and delights i n allegory.

The great middle section of the poem, recounting the ad-

 101

ventures of Britomart, i s a good example b e c a u s e i t is

here that the p r a c t i c a l , r o m a n t i c m o r a l i t y begun i n Book

One's n a r r a t i v e r e c e i v e s t o f u l l , allegorical expression.

Spenser's obvious f i r s t problem i s t o smooth t h e way for

all h i s readers, not j u s t t h e most s e r i o u s and most competent,

into Book T h r e e , F o u r and F i v e a l l e g o r y . To t h i s end he

chooses B r i t o m a r t f o r the dominating f i g u r e i n the three

books a n d makes h e r p o r t r a y i d e a l l o v e on b o t h levels,

narrative and allegorical. But S p e n s e r a l s o makes h e r a

most humanly i n t e r e s t i n g young woman i n p u r s u i t o f her

knight, Artegall, and a b a s i c a l l y humorous one b e s i d e s . In

t h i s way she i s an o u t s t a n d i n g example o f h i s d e l i g h t i n g .

Yet above a l l , in allegory, she i s an e f f i c i e n t i n s t r u m e n t

f o r h i s most a d v a n c e d teaching, and even h e r e , i n t h e most

complex s c e n e s , S p e n s e r does n o t f o r g e t h i s o r d i n a r y r e a d e r -

learner. He n e v e r o n c e r e s o r t s t o d r e a r y m o r a l lecturing,

r a t h e r he i n t r o d u c e s B r i t o m a r t , and t h e e x p e r i e n c e she i s

portraying allegorically, through a s e r i e s of tantalizing

clues that a r o u s e a l l r e a d e r s t o work o u t t h e m o r a l message

and i n s p i r e t h e most s e r i o u s and t h e most competent readers

to p e r s i s t u n t i l t h e y have w o r k e d o u t h i s most subtle

teaching. Thus, i n t h e end, Spenser succeeds i n d e l i g h t i n g

even t h e most demanding readers.

We cannot o f c o u r s e prove t h a t Spenser i s always

effective, o r t h a t , h a v i n g c h a l l e n g e d us,he succeeds i n

 102

m o t i v a t i n g us to l e a r n . But we can show how much he

a c t u a l l y shapes h i s n a r r a t i v e and a l l e g o r y to promote

learning. Probably h i s e s s e n t i a l purpose behind a l l the

shaping i s t o show how h i s c h a r a c t e r s have t o l e a r n their

m o r a l i t y by l i v i n g it. His e s s e n t i a l problem i n teaching

us i s to make us p a r t i c i p a t e i n the poem, make us live

through i t s e x p e r i e n c e and grow w i t h i t s c h a r a c t e r s i n t o

virtue. As Sidney notes, we are t o be l e d towards self-

knowledge, w i t h the aim o f " w e l l dooing" and not o f "Well

knowing o n e l y . " T h i s i s why, above and beyond a l l t e c h -

nique, a l l n a r r a t i v e , and a l l a l l e g o r y , Spenser takes us

i n t o a world o f p o e t r y , without q u e s t i o n the most m a g i c a l

world o f a l l , the one world t o which a l l of us must i n e v i t -

a b l y surrender. Thus he i s more than teacher and delighter,

p r i m a r i l y he remains Spenser the poet, and the most f i t t i n g

summation of h i s e f f e c t i v e n e s s i n the F a e r i e Queene l i e s i n

the A p o l o g i e ,

... and w i t h a t a l e , f o r s o o t h , he cometh unto

you with a t a l e which h o l d e t h c h i l d r e n from
p l a y , and o l d men from the Chimney-corner

G. Gregory Smith, I , p. 161, 172

 103

PRIMARY SOURCES

Ascham, Roger. The Scholemaster i n Elizabethan C r i t i c a l

Essays, ed. G. Gregory Smith (London: Oxford, 1937).
I. 1-45.
Jonson, Ben. Timber, i n C r i t i c a l Essays of the Seventeenth
Century, ed. John E. Springarn (Oxford, 1908).
I. 17-64.
Sidney, S i r P h i l i p . An Apologie f o r Poetrie. i n Elizabethan
C r i t i c a l Essays, ed. G. Gregory Smith (London: Oxford,
1937). I. 148-207.
Smith, James C. and Ernest de Selincourt. ed. The Poetical
Works of Edmund Spenser. (London: Oxford, 1947).

SECONDARY SOURCES

Armstrong, Robert J . "A Study of the Popularity of Edmund

Spenser as Revealed by Allusion and C r i t i c i s m between
the Years 1600 and 1850, with an Appendix Added to Show
the Extent of Spenser Study and Scholarship i n Leading
North American U n i v e r s i t i e s and Colleges Today."
(U.B.C., 1951).
Blair, L. "The Plot of the Faerie Queene." PMLA. XLVII
(1954). 81-88.
Brooke, Tucker. "The Renaissance." A L i t e r a r y History of
England, ed. A.C. Baugh (New York: Appleton-Century-
Crofts, 1948). I I . 315-696.
Draper, J.W. "Narrative Technique of the Faerie Queene."
PMLA. XXXIX (1924). 310-324.
Evans, R.O. "Spenserian Humour." Neuphilologische M i t t e i l -
ungen. LX (1958). 288-299.

Glazier, L. "The Nature of Spenser's Imagery." MLQ.

XVI (1955). 300-310.
 104

Green, Z.E. "Swooning i n the Faerie Queene." SP. XXXIV

( 1 9 3 7 ) . 125-127.

Greenlaw, E. "A Better Teacher Than Aquinas." SP XIV (1917).

Greenlaw, E. and others, ed. The Works of Edmund Spenser:

A Variorum E d i t i o n . 10 vols (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins,
1932-1949).
Guth, H.P. "Unity and M u l t i p l i c i t y i n Spenser's Faerie Queene."
Anglia.LXXIV ( 1 9 5 7 ) . 1-15.
Halliday, E.M. "Hemingway's Ambiguity: Symbolism and Irony."
Interpretations of American Literature, ed. C.F.
Feidelson and Paul Brodtkorb (New York: Oxford, 1 9 5 9 ) .

Honig, E. "Re-Creating Authority i n Allegory." Journal of

Aesthetics and Art C r i t i c i s m . XVI ( 1 9 5 7 ) , 180-193.

Legouis, Eraile and Louis Cazamian. A History of English

L i t e r a t u r e . Trans. Helen D. Irvine. 6 t h ed. (London:
Dent, 1 9 4 5 ) .
Lewis, C.S. The Allegory of Love. (London: Oxford, 1 9 5 3 ) .

Nicolson, M.F. " R e a l i s t i c Elements i n Spenser's Style." SP

XXI (1924). 3^2-398.
Owen, W.J.B. "A Spenser Note." MLR. XLIII (1943). 239-242.

Owen, W.J.B. "Narrative Logic and Imitation i n the Faerie

Queene." Comparative L i t e r a t u r e. VII ( 1 9 5 5 ) . 324-337.
Padelford, F.M. and W.C. Maxwell. "The Compound Words i n
Spenser's Poetry." JEGP. XXV ( 1 9 2 6 ) . 493-516.

Stein, Arnold. "Stanza Continuity i n the Faerie Queene."

MLN. LIX ( 1 9 4 4 ) . 114-113.