Beza, 1580.
Thus rendered into French in 1581,—
The sentiment is the same as that of the proverb in the motto which Lebeus-Batillius prefixes to his 18th Emblem (edition 1596), “Qvibvs rebvs confidimvs, iis maxime evertimvs,”—To whatever things we trust, by them chiefly are we overthrown. The subject is Milo caught in the cleft of the tree which he had riven by his immense strength; he is held fast, and devoured by wolves.
The application of Beza’s Emblem is made by Hamlet (act iii. sc. 4, l. 205, vol. viii. p. 117), during the long interview with his mother, just after he had said,—
Then speaking of his plot and of the necessity which marshals him to knavery, he adds,—
Horapollo, ed. 1551.
EMBLEM writers make the Natural, one of the divisions of their subject, and understand by it, in Whitney’s words, the expressing of the natures of creatures, for example, “the loue of the yonge Storkes to the oulde, or of such like.” We shall extend a little the application of the term, taking in some facts of nature, as well as the natural properties and qualities of animals, but reserving in a great degree the Poetry, with which certain natural things are invested, for the next general heading, “Emblems for Poetic Ideas.”
There is no need to reproduce the Device of Prometheus bound, but simply to refer to it, and to note the allusions which Shakespeare makes to the mountain where the dire penalty was inflicted, “the frosty Caucasus.” From the Titus Andronicus we have already (p. 268) spoken of Tamora’s infatuated love,—
John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, endeavours, in Richard II. (act i. sc. 3, lines 275, 294, vol. iv. pp. 130, 131), to reconcile his son Henry Bolingbroke to the banishment which was decreed against him, and urges,—
Bolingbroke,however, replies,—
The indestructibility of adamant by force or fire had for ages been a received truth.
“Whom no dangers terrify,” is a fitting motto for the Emblem that pertains to such as fear nor force nor fire.
Speaking of the precious gem that figures forth their character, it is the remark of Lebeus-Batillius (Emb. 29), “Duritia ineharrabilis est, simulque ignium victrix naturâ & nunquam incalescens,”—for which we obtain a good English expression from Holland’s Pliny (bk. xxxvii. c. 4): “Wonderfull and inenarrable is the hardnesse of a diamant; besides it hath a nature to conquer the fury of fire, nay, you shall never make it hote.”
The Latin stanzas in illustration close with the lines,—
When the great Talbot was released from imprisonment (1 Henry VI., act i. sc. 4, l. 49, vol. v. p. 20), his companions-in-arms on welcoming him back, inquired, “How wert thou entertained?” (l. 39)—
The strong natural affection of the bear for its young obtained record nearly three thousand years ago (2 Samuel xvii. 8),—“mighty men, chafed in their minds” are spoken of “as a bear robbed of her whelps in the field.”[153] Emblems delineated by Boissard and engraved by Theodore De Bry in 1596, at Emb. 43 present the bear licking her whelp, in sign that the inborn force of nature is to be brought into form and comeliness by instruction and good learning. At a little later period, the “Tronvs Cvpidinis,” or “Emblemata Amatoria” (fol. 2), so beautifully adorned by Crispin de Passe, adopts the sentiment, Perpolit incultum paulatim tempus amorem,—that “by degrees time puts the finish, or perfectness to uncultivated love.” The device by which this is shown introduces a Cupid as well as the bear and her young one,—
De Passe, 1596.
and is accompanied by Latin and French stanzas,—
The sentiment of these lines finds a parallel in the Midsummer Night’s Dream (act i. sc. 1. l. 232, vol. ii. p. 206),—
Perchance, too, it receives illustration from the praise accorded to the young Dumain by Katharine, in Love’s Labour’s Lost (act ii. sc. 1, l. 56, vol. ii. p. 114),—
To the denial of natural affection towards himself Gloucester (3 Henry VI., act iii. sc. 2, l. 153, vol. v. p. 284) deemed it almost a thing impossible for him to “make his heaven in a lady’s lap,”—
Curious it is to note how slowly the continent which Columbus discovered became fully recognised as an integral portion of what had been denominated, ἡ οἰκουμένη,—“the inhabited world.” The rotundity of the earth and of the water was acknowledged, but Brucioli’s “Trattato della Sphera,” published at Venice, D.M.XLIII., maintains that the earth is immovable and the centre of the universe; and in dividing the globe into climates, it does not take a single instance except from what is named the old world; in fact, the new world of America is never mentioned.
Somewhat later, in 1564, when Sambucus published his Emblems, and presented Symbols of the parts of the Inhabited Earth, he gave only three; thus (p. 113),—
Partium τῆς οικουμένης ſymbola.
Sambucus, 1564.
The Bull is thus set forth as the alumnus, or nursling of Europe; of Africa the Chimæra is the ensign; and to Asia belong the untamed Bear and Boar; America and the broad Pacific, from Peru to China, have neither token nor locality assigned.
Shakespeare’s geography, however, though at times very defective, extended further than its “symbols” by Sambucus. In the humorous mapping out, by Dromio of Syracuse, of the features of the kitchen-wench, who was determined to be his wife (Comedy of Errors, act iii. sc. 2, l. 131, vol. i. p. 429), the question is asked,—
“Ant. S. Where America, the Indies?
Dro. S. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o’er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain.
In Twelfth Night (act iii. sc. 2, l. 73, vol. iii. p. 271) Maria thus describes the love-demented steward,—
“He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies; you have not seen such a thing as ’tis.”
And in the Merry Wives of Windsor (act i. sc. 3, l. 64, vol. i. p. 177), Sir John Falstaff avers respecting Mistress Page and Mistress Ford,—
“I will be cheaters to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both.”
Yet in agreement with the map of Sambucus, with the three capes prominent upon it, of Gibraltar Rock, the Cape of Good Hope, and that of Malacca, Shakespeare on other occasions ignores America and all its western neighbours. At the consultation by Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, about the division of the Roman Empire (Julius Cæsar, act iv. sc. 1, l. 12, vol. vii. p. 384), Antony, on the exit of Lepidus, remarks,—
And when the camp of Octavius is near Alexandria (Antony and Cleopatra, act iv. sc. 6, l. 5, vol. ix. p. 109), and orders are issued to take Antony alive, Cæsar declares,—
The Signs of the Zodiac, or, rather, the figures of the animals of which the zodiac is composed, were well known in Shakespeare’s time from various sources; and though they are Emblems, and have given name to at least one book of Emblems that was published in 1618,[154]—almost within the limits to which our inquiries are confined,—some may doubt whether they strictly belong to Emblem writers. Frequently, however, are they referred to in the dramas of which we are speaking; and, therefore, it is not out of place to exhibit a representation of them. This we do from the frontispiece or title page of an old Italian astronomical work by Antonio Brucioli (see Plate XIII.), who was banished from Florence for his opposition to the Medici, and whose brothers, in 1532, were printers in Venice. It is not pretended that Shakespeare was acquainted with this title page, but it supplies an appropriate illustration of several astronomical phenomena to which he alludes.
The zodiac enters into the description of the advancing day in Titus Andronicus (act ii. sc. 1, l. 5, vol. vi. p. 450),—
It also occupies a place in a homely comparison in Measure for Measure (act i. sc. 2, l. 158, vol. i. p. 303), to point out the duration of nineteen years, or the moon’s cycle,—
The archery scene in Titus Andronicus (act iv. sc. 3, l. 52, vol. vi. p. 501) mentions several of the constellations and the figures by which they were known. The dialogue is between Titus and Marcus,—
In allusion to the old medico-astrological idea that the different members of the human body were under the influence of their proper or peculiar constellations, the following dialogue occurs in the Twelfth Night (act i. sc. 3, l. 127, vol. iii. p. 231),—
Falstaff, in the Merry Wives of Windsor (act ii. sc. 2, l. 5, vol. i. p. 190), vaunts of the good services which he had rendered to his companions: “I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow Nym: or else you had looked through the grate, like a geminy of baboons.”
In telling of the folly of waiting on Achilles (Troilus and Cressida, act ii. sc. 3, l. 189, vol. vi. p. 175), Ulysses declares,—
The figure of the ninth of the zodiacal constellations, Sagittarius, is named in Troilus and Cressida (act v. sc. 5, l. 11, vol. vi. p. 253),—
If it be demanded why we do not give a fuller account of these constellations, we may almost remark as the fool does in King Lear (act i. sc. 5, l. 33, vol. viii. p. 295)—“The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven, is a pretty reason.
How soon the American bird, which we name a Turkey, was known in England, is in some degree a subject of conjecture. It has been supposed that its introduction into this country is to be ascribed to Sebastian Cabot, who died in 1557, and that the year 1528 is the exact time; but if so, it is strange that the bird in question should not have been called by some other name than that which indicates a European or an Asiatic origin. Coq d’Inde, or Poule d’Inde, Gallo d’India, or Gallina d’India, the French and Italian names, point out the direct American origin, as far as France and Italy are concerned; for we must remember that the term India, at the early period of Spanish discovery, was applied to the western world. But most probably the Turkey fleet brought the bird into England, by way of Cadiz and Lisbon, and hence the name; and hence also the reasonableness of supposing that its permanent introduction into this country was not so early as the time of Cabot. A general knowledge of the bird was at any rate spread abroad in Europe soon after the middle of the sixteenth century, for we find it figured in the Emblem-books; one of which, Freitag’s Mythologia Ethica, in 1579, p. 237, furnishes a most lively and exact representation to illustrate “the violated right of hospitality.”[155]
Freitag, 1579.
Shakespeare, no doubt, was familiarly acquainted with the figure and habits of the Turkey, and yet may have seized for description some of the expressive delineations and engravings which occur in the Emblem writers. Freitag’s turkey he characterises with much exactness, though the sentiment advanced is more consistent with the lines from Camerarius. In the Twelfth Night (act ii. sc. 5, lines 15, 27, vol. iii. p. 257), Malvolio, as his arch-tormenter Maria narrates the circumstance, “has been yonder i’ the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour;” he enters on the scene, and Sir Toby says to Fabian, “Here’s an overweening rogue!” to which the reply is made, “O peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advancing plumes!”
The same action is well hit off in showing the bearing of the “pragging knave, Pistol,” as Fluellen terms him (Henry V., act v. sc. 1, l. 13, vol. iv. p. 591),—
“Gow. Why here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
Flu. ’Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!”
Referring again to the “Prometheus ty’d on Caucasus,” the Vulture may be accepted as the Emblem of cruel retribution. So when Falstaff expresses his satisfaction at the death of Henry IV. (2nd part, act v. sc. 3, l. 134, vol. iv. p. 474), “Blessed are they that have been my friends; and woe to my lord chief-justice;” Pistol adds,—
And Lear, telling of the ingratitude of one of his daughters (King Lear, act ii. sc. 4, l. 129. vol. viii. p. 320). says,—
Horapollo, 1551.
A remarkable instance of similarity between Whitney and Shakespeare occurs in the descriptions which they both give of the Commonwealth of Bees. Whitney, it may be, borrowed his device (p. 200) from the “Hieroglyphica” of Horus Apollo (edition 1551, p. 87), where the question is asked, Πῶς λαὸν πειθήνιον βασιλεῖ;—
“How to represent a people obedient to their king? They depict a BEE, for of all animals bees alone have a king, whom the crowd of bees follow, and to whom as to a king they yield obedience. It is intimated also, as well from the remarkable usefulness of honey as from the force which the animal has in its sting, that a king is both useful and powerful for carrying on their affairs.”
It is worthy of remark that several, if not all, of the Greek and Roman authors name the head of a hive not a queen but a king. Plato, in his Politics (Francfort edition, 1602, p. 557A). writes,—
“Νὺν δὲ γε ὃτε οὐκ ἔστι γιγνόμενος, ὡς δὴ φαμὲν, ἔν ταῖς πόλεσι βασιλεὺς, οἱ~υς ἐν σμήνεσιν, εμφυέται, τό,τε σῶμα εὐθὺς καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν διαφέρων,” κ. τ. λ.
“There is not born, as we say, in cities a king such as is naturally produced in hives, decidedly differing both in body and soul.”
Xenophon’s Cyropædia (bk. v. c. 1, § 23) declares of his hero,—
“Βασιλεὺς μὲν γὰρ ἔμοιγε δοκεῖς σὺ φυσεί πεφυκέναι, οὐδὲν ἤττον η ἐν τῳ σμῆνει φυόμενος τῶν μελιττῶν ἡγεμών.”
“Thou seemest to me to have been formed a king by nature, no less than he who in the hive is formed general of the bees.”
In his Georgics Virgil always considers the chief bee to be a king, as iv. 75,—
Alciat’s 148th Emblem (edition 1581, p. 528, or edition 1551, p. 161) sets forth the clemency of a prince; but the description relates to wasps, not bees,—
Alciat, 1551.
Whitney’s stanzas (p. 200), dedicated to “Richard Cotton, Esquier,” of Combermere, Cheshire, are original writing, not a translation.
We will take the chief part of them; the motto being, “To every one his native land is dear.”
By the side of these stanzas let us place for comparison what Shakespeare wrote on the same subject,—the Commonwealth of Bees,—and I am persuaded we shall perceive much similarity of thought, if not of expression. In Henry V. (act i. sc. 2, l. 178, vol. iv. p. 502), the Duke of Exeter and the Archbishop of Canterbury enter upon an argument respecting a well-governed state,—
Again, in the Troilus and Cressida (act i. sc. 3, l. 75, vol. vi. p. 144), Ulysses draws from the unsuitableness of a general, as he terms the ruling bee, over a hive, an explanation of the mischiefs from an incompetent commander,—
The Dramatist’s knowledge of bee-life appears also in the metaphor used by Warwick (2 Henry VI., act iii. sc. 2, l. 125, vol. v. p. 168),—
In an earlier play, 2 Henry IV. (act iv. sc. 5, l. 75, vol. iv. p. 454), the comparison is taken from the bee-hive,—
In the foregoing extracts on the bee-king, the plea is inadmissible that Shakespeare and Whitney went to the same fountain; for neither of them follows Alciatus. The two accounts of the economy and policy of these “creatures small” are almost equally excellent, and present several points of resemblance, not to name them imitations by the more recent writer. Whitney speaks of the “Master bee,” Shakespeare of the king, or “emperor,”—both regarding the head of the hive not as a queen, but a “born king,” and holding forth the polity of the busy community as an admirable example of a well-ordered kingdom or government.
The conclusion of Whitney’s reflections on those “that suck the sweete of Flora’s bloomes,” conducts to another parallelism; and to show it we have only to follow out his idea of returning home after “absence manie a yeare,” “when happe some goulden honie bringes.” Here is the whole passage (p. 201),—
The parallel is from All’s Well that Ends Well (act i. sc. 2, 1. 58, vol. iii. p. 119), when the King of France speaks the praise of Bertram’s father,—