above, left: Elizabeth Cornwallis, Lady Kytson, by George Gower (1573)
below, left: Margaret Kytson, by George Gower (1580)
dedicated to Margaret Kytson (1563 - 1582)
Dramatic Verse in Period
Dramatic Verse meant quite a few different things throughout our period for English literature. First, a note about terminology: for purposes of this paper, I am using dramatic verse to indicate a wide variety of poetry written for the purpose of delivering character, plot, and narrative information, rather than more sentimental “lyric verse”. These wide categories are consistent with the differences between, say, Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales and the French ballad shown below:
Ex. Dramatic Verse: “The Wife of Bath’s Prologue” Chaucer, 1387, from The Riverside Chaucer
Excerpt of Lyric Verse: “Ballad of the Gibbet” Villon, (1431-1463), translated by Andrew Lang
1 "Experience, though noon auctoritee
"Experience, though no written authority
2 Were in this world, is right ynogh for me
Were in this world, is good enough for me
3 To speke of wo that is in mariage;
To speak of the woe that is in marriage;
4 For, lordynges, sith I twelve yeer was of age,
For, gentlemen, since I was twelve years of age,
5 Thonked be God that is eterne on lyve,
Thanked be God who is eternally alive,
6 Housbondes at chirche dore I have had fyve --
I have had five husbands at the church door --
7 If I so ofte myghte have ywedded bee --
If I so often might have been wedded --
8 And alle were worthy men in hir degree.
And all were worthy men in their way.
9 But me was toold, certeyn, nat longe agoon is,
But to me it was told, certainly, it is not long ago,
10 That sith that Crist ne wente nevere but onis
That since Christ went never but once
11 To weddyng, in the Cane of Galilee,
To a wedding, in the Cana of Galilee,
12 That by the same ensample taughte he me
That by that same example he taught me
13 That I ne sholde wedded be but ones.
That I should be wedded but once.
1 Brothers and men that shall after us be,
2 Let not your hearts be hard to us:
3 For pitying this our misery
4 Ye shall find God the more piteous.
5 Look on us six that are hanging thus,
6 And for the flesh that so much we cherished
7 How it is eaten of birds and perished,
8 And ashes and dust fill our bones' place,
9 Mock not at us that so feeble be,
10 But pray God pardon us out of His grace.
11 Listen, we pray you, and look not in scorn.
12 Though justly, in sooth, we are cast to die;
13 Ye wot no man so wise is born
14 That keeps his wisdom constantly.
15 Be ye then merciful, and cry
16 To Mary's Son that is piteous,
17 That His mercy take no stain from us,
18 Saving us out of the fiery place.
19 We are but dead, let no soul deny
20 To pray God succour us of His Grace.
Notice the differences between the samples: Chaucer’s contains a definite character as a speaker, rather than a vague, omniscient speaker (normally the poet or singer) in the lyric. Chaucer’s example delivers expository information, character development through intentional word and structural choices, and contains a perspective definitively not the same as the poet. Also, the lyric verse is rhymed and metered for song – certainly not in a consistent spoken iambic pentameter, and rhymed ABAB or ABBA, rather than the heroic couplets used throughout Chaucer’s epic. These formal and content differences emphasize the differences in their purpose – one for delivering narrative or dramatic information, and the other for emotional or philosophical content.
When one character is speaking during dramatic verse, I will call that dramatic monologue. The use of that term today is reserved mostly for a very particular type of poem popularized by Robert Browning post-period, but I intend to show a consistent poetic tradition may have existed between his work and our reenactment period. Below, find his most famous dramatic monologue, “My Last Duchess”:
“My Last Duchess” by Robert Browning (1842)
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps
Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat.” Such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—which I have not—to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—
E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!
Common Elements of Dramatic Monologue
These exemplars demonstrate the clear genealogy from Chaucer’s Wife of Bath, through Shakespeare’s verse monologues, all the way post-period to Browning’s famous poems. Dramatic monologues, whether stand-alone pieces like Browning’s or part of a larger work, seem to share the following:
A definitive speaker character who is not the poet, singer, or bard in an omniscient position. In “The Wife of Bath’s Prologue”, Chaucer writes “but to me it was told”, meaning the Wife, not Chaucer himself. We see this again in Shakespeare’s “O that I were a glove upon that hand” in Romeo’s soliloquy in Act II, Sc, II of “Romeo and Juliet” (II.ii.24). Finally, the opening phrase of “That’s my last Duchess” by the speaker in Browning’s poem firmly situates the poetic character in a different diegetic world than the poet.
Iambic pentameter in either blank verse or heroic couplets. All of “The Wife of Bath’s Prologue” is written in heroic couplets, or AABBCC, etc. This is also true for the most philosophical of Shakespeare’s characters; Hamlet curses that “The time is out of joint, O cursed spite / That ever I was born to set it right!” (I.v.190-191) – Shakespeare also used blank verse and prose, but seems to have reserved rhyming for his character’s most emotionally resounding moments and critical realizations. By the 19th century, Browning was still using heroic couplets, such as rhyming “wall / call / hands / stands” (1-4).
Silent but implied present auditors. Much lyric verse was meant to be heard or sung by a live audience, but dramatic verse often contained narrative dialogue or monologue, and therefore used grammatical structures to imply the other characters listening in the diegesis of the narrative. We see Chaucer use this technique when the Wife claims:
“For, gentlemen, since I was twelve years of age
Thanked be God who is eternally alive
I have had five husbands at the church door –
If I so often might have been wedded --
And all were worthy men in their way.”(4-8)
Not only does the Wife refer to her audience by clearly speaking to “gentlemen” (or “lordlyngs” in the original Middle English), establishing a silent auditor, but the poet also uses interruptive grammar like the dashes in the line “ – If I so often might have been wedded –” in order to mimic the stream-of-consciousness and patterns of actual speech. Shakespeare, too, used punctuation to imply stage direction and cues in the world of the play. For example, dashes work as pauses between disjointed thoughts, and Browning uses the exact same patterns almost 500 years later when the Duke of Ferrara wonders why his late duchess thought “somehow – I know not how – as if she ranked / My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody’s gift.” (32-34).
Characterization through monologue. In Chaucer’s “Prologues”, we learn a lot about his various pilgrims: in this example, we learn that the Wife has “had five husbands” (6), but that she can be rather callous with them, explicitly stating that she was evaluative, “Both of their lower purse [scrotum] and of their strongbox.” (44b) – certainly not the most romantic outlook. These monologue-revealed details provide details about the narrative and characters in the world of the poem. Shakespeare teaches us much about Hamlet’s indecisiveness during his soliloquy in which he asks “to be, nor not to be, that is the question”, breaking perfect iambic pentameter as he in unable to finish this thought (III.i.66). We see the same such details implied about the Duke of Ferrara in Browning’s poem, in which he admits that he “gave commands / Then all smiles stopped together” (45-46), hinting as his jealous murder of his wife.
To summarize: because each of these very specific traits existed together in the 14th century, the 16th century, and the 19th century, my goal was to create a 16th century English stand-alone dramatic monologue as a “missing link” between the monologues in English epic poetry and drama, and the individual dramatic monologues written post-period. My piece must use a limited character narrator, heroic couplets, grammar to imply a diegetic character auditor, and characterization through monologue.
Speaker as Limited Character Narrator
In “The Portrait of Margaret Kytson”, I made sure to indicate the speaker was clearly not me, a young man. Language like “my lips’ fair painting” (3), “mine skirts” (18), and the speaker referring to herself as a “young woman” (21) clearly create an original character that cannot be replaced with a general performer or omniscient speaker. In fact, the reference to her painter being “Master Gower” and the title of the poem naming her “Margaret Kytson”, we can see that she clearly isn’t a universal narrator. In fact, she is a real historical figure who was the daughter of Gower’s earliest known clients, who died in childbirth in 1582 (Hearn). There isn’t much information about her personality, but I have used her adjacency to an extant portrait from the time period as inspiration for the character. The portrait of her mother is featured on the cover of this documentation; no portrait of her exists, but I like to imagine that she might have sat for one as a young woman, after her parents’ were done. Finally, I will add that Shakespeare was just as likely to use known historical people like Henrys and Richards as imagine his own characters!
Rhyme and Meter
This poem began as a blank verse attempt at an iambic pentameter monologue, which I then edited for rhyme, changing lines and grammar to encourage it. This had the double effect of also forcing my first draft to become more Shakespearean, encouraging Latinate word order, Early Modern contractions, and so on. “The Portrait of Margaret Kytson” rhymes “tire” “pyre” and “race” “face”, etc. (5, 6, 9, and 10) and all lines are in iambic pentameter.
Silent Auditors & Grammatical Structures
We learn quite a bit about the silent auditor and the relationship between him and our young woman in the poem. First, he seems to be her portrait artist, as he asks her to “not move this sitting through” (1) and to have her “arms just so, and head a bit askew” (15). However, he seems somewhat annoyed by her musings. We learn in the monologue that she asks “what’s that, not still enough?” (3), and I use dashes to indicate she is being interrupted, like when she says “unmarked by you? / -- not for lack of skill, of course! – “ (28-29) indicating that he is asking her questions or interjecting when he perceives a slight in what she says. In fact, this poem specifically names him as “Master Gower” (8), the court painter for Elizabeth I, a historical figure who painted many noblemen and women of the English Renaissance, and also the portrait painter for the Kytson family in the 1570s (Hearn).
Characterization through Monologue
This monologue’s structure, tone, and word choice teach us a lot about the speaker. She is, at first, a somewhat whiny young woman, complaining of the “tedium” (5) of sitting for a painting, and that she feels “like a body on a pyre” (6). As she has some time to talk through her feelings, she chats to the anxious painter and begins to wonder about how time and experience are changing her. The talkative young woman is very aware that she shouldn’t insult the painter (even if she feels the painting is pointless), and so constantly offers “No offense” (8) and “Apologies” (35). She starts to wonder whether “books [she reads]” (25) and her “tears of …joy and [pain]” (27) are perceivable to the painter’s eye. Over the course of the poem she has a realization: the painting is not meant to commemorate her constant growth as much as it freezes her in a particular moment to ownership by her father. She uses language like “stop my breathing” (2), “like body on a pyre” (6), “(barely alive)” (14) to subconsciously reveal her distaste for the dead inhumanity of the production, and even calls the portrait an “uncanny chang’ling” (32).
By the end of the poem, she is able to stop streaming her consciousness and ask, in changed rhyme: “Do these colors capture who I am? / Or one my father fears someday to lose?” (43-44), a new, more adult perspective on the world that she was only able to come to through her self-Socratic discussion, as well as the books and experiences she grew from implied in the piece. This realization also is explicitly tied to her history, in which she is eventually married to Sir Charles Cavendish, and dies in childbirth the same year (her father “loses” her in multiple ways, sadly) (Hearn).