INTRODUCTION. THE First Book of the Faery Queene pourtrays the struggles and final victory of Truth, intellectual and spiritual, under the name of Holiness. The Second Book sets forth the temptations and triumphs of Moral Purity, under the name of Temperance. The two, between them, contain the substance of man's faith and duty. In the First Book the Christian comes out firmly assured in his belief, and that, not as a mere effort of the imagination, or as a devotional sentiment, but as a severe intellectual enquiry and sifting of the truth, a "proving all things" in order to "hold fast that which is good." For this combination of reason with religion was deemed not only allowable but essential in the sixteenth century, and bore fruit in the appeals to men's judgment and personal reason as against authority, to common sense as against the iron rules and quibbles of the later Scholastics, to the personal study of the Bible as against a blind reliance on a traditional and sacerdotal system. In the Second Book we have the Christian working out, with many lets and slips, the moral ends of his existence, moderate and manly, the true "gentleman' in the right sense of the word. The Book expresses, in fact, the profound belief of the age in morality as the natural sequel of a true and enlightened faith: and Duessa and Archimago are introduced at the opening of the "pageant," as Spenser calls it, not merely to act as artistic links, binding Book with Book, but more especially to indicate this close connection of religion with morality. For falsehood and the false Church, said the age, fight against purity of life as well as against truth of doctrine, and the magician and the witch go on "deceiving and deceived" to the end. It follows that Spenser, having risen to this high conception b of the purpose of these Books, is obliged to break away from the plan he laid down for himself in his well-known Letter to Sir Walter Raleigh. To have worked out the twelve Books as representing "the twelve moral virtues," each with its own knight and its own adventures, would have demanded a far narrower treatment of these two opening Books. Instead of ranging over the whole extent of human life and interests as they do, pourtraying Holiness and Temperance, we should have had the adventures of the liberal soul struggling against extravagance or stinginess, or the brave man attacked by temptations of rashness or of cowardice. The genius of the poet happily delivered him from his own bonds, and enabled him to deal with his subject with a dignity and completeness which makes each Book a work by itself, and a commentary on the whole breadth of human life. But though we may look on each of these Books as a whole, still the author is mindful to link the different "gests" together, by likeness of structure, by reference to the original design, by the introduction of the old actors at the beginning of the new piece, and especially by the grander figures of Arthur and the Faery Queene, who appear dimly throughout. The image of the Queen looking down on the action is never absent from the Books: in a veiled form she actually enters on the stage, the divine huntress, chaste and beautiful as Artemis herself, and ennobles the work with her presence and her high-souled words. The Prince, in quest of her through the world, full of a mysterious love and allegiance to her, appears in each Book to help the labouring knights. This link is so artfully contrived, that while it carries on the mysterious undercurrent of the action, it does not diminish the interest felt in the main actors. Prince Arthur comes as a deliverer when the heroes are reduced to helplessness: he delivers them, but he does not do their work for them His work is noble and perfect; but it only tends in these Books to restore the knights to themselves, and so to enable them to work out their proper ends for themselves. In this respect, and in many others, the two Books run upon parallel lines. It may be worth while to notice some of these similarities. While Error's hateful figure forms a very striking introduction to the treatment of the subject of the search after Truth, the sad picture of the fall of Mordant and the consequent miseries of Amavia give us, in the same way, the key-note of the Second Book, pourtraying the terrible power of moral evil, if not resisted; it gives Sir Guyon the clue to his path in life, as avenger of their innocent babe. Acrasia is thus brought before us, the central figure of evil, foreseen in the effects of her poisonous fascinations: "Sin, when it hath conceived, bringeth forth death." The House of Pride may be contrasted with Alma's Castle; the description of the Cave of Despair, and the discussion on suicide which follows it, stand over against the account of Mammon's Cave, and the disquisition held in it respecting the use and value of riches, and man's proper aim in life. Again, as in Canto VIII of the First Book we have the overthrow of Orgoglio (that most formidable enemy of the religious character, Pride) by the hand of Arthur; so in Canto VIII of the Second Book we meet the same Prince doing to death the various forms of angry passion and fiery temper, which had all but undone the weakened and prostrate Sir Guyon. Una corresponds, in a sort, to the Black Palmer; though we may rank the religious purity of the snow-white maiden higher than the moral equanimity of the sad-robed sober Mentor. Una guides the Red Cross Knight, the Palmer Sir Guyon: they are parted from one another under circumstances suitable to the character of each Book. The Red Cross Knight loses his companion through false illusions: Sir Guyon parts with his Palmer in order that he may pass with Idleness, in the boat that goes without an oar, across the Idle Lake. And, lastly, the tenth Canto of each book is dedicated to the preparation of the hero of each for the crowning work of his calling. When the Red Cross Knight is taken to the House of Mercy, it is that his mind may be enlightened, and that his soul may obtain glimpses of heavenly truth before his last struggle with the Old Serpent, the Father of Lies. When Guyon reaches the Castle of Alma, he betakes himself to the study of the "Antiquities of Faery Land," in order that he may prepare himself by high example and the tranquil study of the great actions of the past to discern the difference between the glitter and allurement of Acrasia and the true greatness of a temperate and upright life. There are also, on the other hand, special characteristics and points of difference between the two Books, arising from the different themes treated in them. The Second Book stands quite alone in English literature for its melodious diction and beautiful descriptions of a false Fairyland; while the First Book is full of fighting and grim pictures, some of them revolting rather than terrible. The Dragon, laid low over acres of land, horrible even in death, fills the mind with painful images: on the other hand, Acrasia, fair and frail, carried away in bonds, not tormented nor slain, her slaves released, and restored to human form; her bower broken down, her garden defaced, may be sad, but is not horrible. Again, the First Book is naturally far fuller of historical allusions to the time in which it was written than the Second: for the latter dealt simply with the development of each man's moral nature, while the former treated of the great religious and political questions which were agitating the world. For the same reason the allegorical character of the First Book is more strongly marked than that of the Second, though we have the general similitude of the struggle against temptation, and the detailed and interpolated allegories of the House of Moderation and of the Castle of the Soul. It may be well to trace the way in which this allegory is worked out. We have already noticed how the episode of Mordant and Amavia, with their bloody-handed babe, sets the action of the story into its right course. They save us from forgetting that all the struggles of the earlier Books are only preparatory to the main issue yet to come. It seems that Spenser originally intended to have given this key-note even earlier; for in the Letter to Sir Walter Raleigh he describes the Palmer as coming in (at the very outset) to the Queen's presence, bearing the babe in his arms, and seeking redress for him; he goes on to say that the task was assigned to Sir Guyon, who went forth at once to fulfil it. But the poet has happily deviated from his plan otherwise we must have waited till the never-written : |