It is not strange, perhaps, that it was university men who served to free the drama to the better purposes of art. Themselves trained in the classics, and in the essentials of Italian culture, they were able to bring to bear on drama the force of the influence of Seneca, the pastoral, and the masque, and thereby greatly to increase the range of inspiration and the instruments of effective expression open to the playwrights. The fact is, however, worthy of remark that it is to the university playwrights that we have to credit the transference of the patronage of the drama out of the hands of the court into the hands of the people. Lyly had been the first great university dramatist. His plays, of which Campaspe and Sapho and Phao must have been composed before 1581, were written for court production. But Lyly's own melancholy story shows clearly enough that if dramatists were to flourish at all they needed means of support supplementary to the uncertain pension of a noble. It was for the sake of this further support that the playwrights and the actors proceeded to perform their court plays before the people, first in the inn-yards of the Cross Keys, the Bull and the Bell Savage, and finally in the Theatre and the Curtain, erected in 1576 and 1577 in Finsbury Fields. As an indication of the movement to transfer the support of the drama from the court to the public it is recorded that in 1575 "Her Majesty's poor players" were petitioning the Lord Mayor, through the Privy Council, for permission to play within the city, assigning as reasons the fact that they needed rehearsal properly to prepare for their court appearances, and that they needed to earn their livings. The answer of the city authorities, that plays should be presented by way of recreation by men with other means of subsistence, was manifestly an avoidance of the implications of the situation at hand.
It was not until after the plague of 1586, and the return of the companies from the provinces, that the university playwrights rose to a commanding place in the life of the time. And then, though their plays were still performed at court, it was to the people that the dramatists made their appeal. Marlowe, and Greene, and Peele and Lodge now constituted the group of the university wits. The support that the court had before either withheld, or but fitfully given, was now vouchsafed liberally at the Theatre and the Curtain. The university dramatists knew well what was demanded of them. Dismissing the topics treated by Lyly, and by Peele in his early play, The Arraignment of Paris (1584), and discarding by degrees the allegorical and didactic as found in the popular drama of the preceding time, they began to dramatise the spirit of contemporary life in the form of stories built from legend and romance, and instinct with the leonine spirit of awakening England. Marlowe's Tamburlaine is as true to Elizabethan England as is Dekker's more realistic Shoemaker's Holiday; and Peele's Old Wives' Tale and Greene's Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay are both native in England's soil. In the years between 1584 and 1593 the number of companies greatly increased. Fleay mentions nine companies as performing at court between these dates. Besides the Queen's players, who comprised, perhaps, two or more companies, there were companies of my Lord Admiral, Pembroke, Sussex and other lords. Normally the playwrights wrote only for the company to which they were attached. It is believed that at one time Lodge, Peele, Marlowe and Greene were together as playwrights for the Queen's men playing at the Theatre. Later the first three went over to the support of the Admiral's men, and thereafter often changed their allegiance, but Greene probably wrote only for the Queen's players until his death. Soon other dramatists aligned themselves with the movements of the new drama, and out of the jealous rivalry aroused by the entrance into the field of dramatic authorship of such non-university playwrights as Kyd and Shakespeare there developed the maze of controversy and vituperation that has made the Elizabethan age famous as an era of personal pamphleteering.
But though the drama was occupying an increasingly prominent place in the life of the time the professional actors and playwrights were in decided ill-repute. With the managers and with the actors the returns from the stage were sufficient to salve the hurt of the odium under which their profession rested. Richard Burbage died a rich man, and Alleyn, who played in at least one of Greene's plays, became so wealthy that he could found a college. So also, as we learn from the slighting references to them by the dramatists, the actors were well able to line their pockets with the returns of their calling. But the pamphlet literature of the time reveals the extraordinary hostility with which all connected with the theatre were viewed. Gosson's School of Abuse (1579), A Second and Third Blast of Retrait from Plays and Theatres (1580), Stubb's Anatomy of Abuses (1583), and Babington's Exposition of the Commandments (1583) contain vigorous attacks on the stage as an institution and on all who follow its fortunes. Distrust and jealousy were common within the ranks of the actors and playwrights. So Chettle does not know Marlowe and does not wish to know him; Nash, though he defends Greene against Harvey, expressly disclaims any intimacy; and we shall learn that Greene was jealous of Marlowe during a large portion of his period of dramatic authorship. But the playwrights abominated the actors even more than they distrusted each other. Frequently they refer to actors as puppets and apes dressed up in another's feathers. Greene, in Never too Late, calls the actor "Esop's crow," and in A Groatsworth of Wit, in the famous passage referring to Shakespeare, he calls the actors "burrs," "puppets that speak from our mouths," and "antics garnished in our colours." The author of The Return from Parnassus (1602) calls them "mimic apes," and Florio, in his preface to Montaigne's Essays (translated 1603) refers to actors as "base rascals, vagabond abjects, and porterly hirelings." Though proud of their calling as literary men the dramatists looked with shame on their writing for the stage. Lodge, who in 1580 had defended poetry and plays against Gosson, in Scillæ's Metamorphosis of 1589 declared his determination "to write no more of that whence shame doth grow." If Greene refers to plays at all he calls them "vanities"; connects their composition with the basest efforts of life, and arraigns dependence on "so mean a stay." Even Shakespeare "in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes" beweeps alone his "outcast state" (Sonnet XXIX), and exclaims "For I am shamed by that which I bring forth" (Sonnet LXXII). Conditions like these are not likely to bring the better social adjustments into play, or to call into a profession those who value name and fame supremely. Schelling[1] calls attention to the fact that playwriting took a higher position at the beginning of the seventeenth century than it had taken at the end of the previous century, and compares Marlowe, Shakespeare, Greene and Jonson, the sons of low life, with Beaumont, Fletcher, Chapman, Middleton and Marston, the sons of gentlemen. By the time the sons of gentlemen were ready to take to playwriting the path had been made ready for them by their predecessors. Society of the times in which Greene lived was not ready to treat either a playwright or an actor as a good citizen. And a son of a nobleman, entering the ranks of the pioneers, would have given his life as a sacrifice just as did Marlowe and Greene. Lodge was the son of a Lord Mayor, Peele's father was a man of some education, and Lyly had influential connections at court; yet the only man of the entire school of "university wits" who escaped a life of misery and a death of want was Lodge, and he in 1596 deserted literature for medicine. We cannot consider Greene's "memory a blot"[2] on a time that is truly represented as well by the tragical as the heroic outlines of his character and history.
The sources of our knowledge and deduction concerning Greene's life are of four classes—records, autobiographical pamphlets and allusions, contemporary references, legends. To the indubitable records belong the university registers, the stationers' registers, and the title pages to his printed books. From the first we learn that Greene was entered as a sizar at St John's College, Cambridge, 26th November 1575, that he was admitted to the degree of B.A. some time in 1578, that he proceeded to the degree of M.A., after residence at Clare Hall, Cambridge, in 1583; from the second we learn that his first book was the first part of Mamillia, entered for publication 3rd October 1580, though not published until 1583, and other facts concerning the time of publication of his successive books and plays; from the signature to the Maiden's Dream, "R. Greene, Nordericensis," and to the address to Lodge's Euphues Shadow, "Robert Greene Norfolciensis," we learn that Greene was born in Norfolk. Of a lower order of certainty as to their application to Greene, yet still satisfying the closest scrutiny, is the record in the parish register of St Leonard's, Shoreditch, of the burial of Greene's illegitimate child, Fortunatus Greene, 12th August 1593; and the record in the register of St George, Tombland, uncovered and interpreted by Collins, indicating that the dramatist himself was the second child of Robert Greene, a saddler, and Jane his wife, and was baptised the 11th of July 1558.
To the second class of biographical materials belong Greene's own prose works, the Mourning Garment, Never too Late, with the second part, Francesco's Fortunes, the Groatsworth of Wit, all partly autobiographical; and The Repentance of Robert Greene, confessedly autobiographical, but, until lately, of questioned authenticity. The biographical material in these works is ample, but its value is discounted by certain considerations involved in the motives of Greene's pamphlet composition. When Greene began to write, art was not yet strong enough to command a popular hearing without the assistance of a didactive motive. Adapting himself to the conditions with a tact that made him the most broadly read writer of his time, Greene made edification the end of his writing from the first. His second work to be entered on the Stationers' Register, March 1581, had a distinct moral purpose: "Youth, seeing all his ways so troublesome, abandoning virtue and leaning to vice, recalleth his former follies with an inward repentance." In choosing topics for popular pamphlets Greene tells such a story as that derived from Ælian in Planetomachia (1585), or he tells over the story of the prodigal son as in the Mourning Garment. And throughout his life moral purpose remained a factor in his prose and drama. He turned from romances to the composition of the conny-catching pamphlets, in the trust "that those discourses will do great good, and be very beneficial to the commonwealth of England." A Looking-Glass for London and England is a pure moral interlude. Often he moralises when it is unnecessary to do so, or when he has to change his original to introduce a didactic motive. Even the Palmer who tells the tale of Never too Late is himself penitent for his past sins. In Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay the jolly friar of Brazen-nose is made at the end to surrender his calling through motives of remorse as far as possible from the spirit of his life, and James IV. ends with a penitent sovereign begging forgiveness for his sins. These facts show, if they show anything, that the motive of repentance was a conventional thing with Greene, and that however faithful it may have been to his own experience not the least advantage in its use lay in its popularity. That it was a popular motive is shown by the vogue of such books as Tarlton's News out of Purgatory (1590), and by the fact that T. Newman, in a dedication to Greene's Vision (1592), asserts that "many have published repentances in his name." That much of Greene's autobiographical material is veracious we have corroborative evidence to prove; we should, however, not be justified in accepting it all without question. There is a bland shamelessness in the confession of sins that is itself one of the best signs of health. When Greene says, "I saw and practised such villainy as is abominable to declare," he is expressing in phrase strikingly similar to Hamlet's words to Ophelia, "I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me," a characteristic moral attitude of the times.
What do we learn from the romances concerning Greene's life? The Mourning Garment is a modernised version of the prodigal son story, and its relation to Greene's own history may be slight or even factitious. The story of Never too Late touches Greene more closely. In this there is recounted the fortunes of "a gentleman of an ancient house, called Francesco; a man whose parentage though it were worshipful, yet it was not indued with much wealth; insomuch that his learning was better than his revenues, and his wit more beneficial than his substance." This Francesco, "casting his eye on a gentleman's daughter that dwelt not far from Caerbranck," named Isabel, fell in love with her, and married her against the opposition of Fregoso, her father. For five years "they laboured to maintain their loves, being as busy as bees, and as true as turtles, as desirous to satisfy the world with their desert as to feed the humours of their own desires." At the end of this time they were reconciled with Fregoso, and "they counted this smile of fortune able to countervail all the contrary storms that the adverse planets had inflicted upon them." Now after two years "it so chanced that Francesco had necessary business to dispatch certain his urgent affairs at the chief city of that island, called Troynovant: thither, with leave of his father, and farewell to his wife, he departed after they were married seven years." In the city he surrendered to the lures of a courtesan, Infida, and "seated in her beauty, he lived a long while, forgetting his return to Caerbranck." For three years the two lovers "securely slumbered in the sweetness of their pleasures," ignoring the womanly complaints of Isabel and neglectful of the passage of time. Then finding that "all his corn was on the floor, that his sheep were dipt, and the wool sold," Infida turned him out of doors. Francesco laments his hard fortune in an invective against courtesans that stings with the passion of the author's personal feeling. In his "perplexity he passed over three or four days till his purse was clean empty" and he was compelled "to carry his apparel to the brokers, and with great loss to make money to pay for his diet." "In this humour he fell in amongst a company of players, who persuaded him to try his wit in writing of comedies, tragedies, or pastorals, and if he could perform anything worth the stage, then they would largely reward him for his pains. Francesco, glad of this motion, seeing a means to mitigate the extremity of his want, thought it no dishonour to make gain of his wit or to get profit by his pen: and therefore, getting him home to his chamber, writ a comedy; which so generally pleased all the audience that happy were those actors in short time that could get any of his works, he grew so exquisite in that faculty." The remainder of the story relates Isabel's repulse of the seductions of an admirer, Infida's unsuccessful efforts at reconciliation with the now prosperous Francesco, and the latter's penitent return to his faithful wife.
The story told in A Groatsworth of Wit quite closely resembles that of Never too Late and is clearly autobiographical. To this fact Greene bears witness when, near the end of the story, he writes: "Here, gentlemen, break I off Roberto's speech, whose life in most part agreeing with mine, found one self punishment as I have done. Hereafter suppose me the said Roberto, and I will go on with that he promised." In this story, "an old new-made gentleman" named Gorinius, living in an island city "made rich by merchandise, and populous by long space," had two sons, the one a scholar, named Roberto, married and but little regarded, the other named Lucanio, the heir-apparent of his father's ill-gathered goods. On his death-bed Gorinius bequeathed his entire property to Lucanio: "only I reserve for Roberto, thy well-read brother, an old groat (being the stock I first began with), wherewith I wish him to buy a groatsworth of wit." Upon the death of Gorinius, and the distribution of the property according to will, Roberto "grew into an inward contempt of his father's unequal legacy, and determinate resolution to work Lucanio all possible injury." As Lucanio "was of a condition simple, shamefast, and flexible to any counsel," Roberto seemed on a fair way to success, until Lamilia, a courtesan with whom he had plotted for Lucanio's undoing, repudiated the understanding and informed the heir of the plot against his gold. Forbidden the house, "Roberto, in an extreme ecstasy, rent his hair, curst his destiny, blamed his treachery, but most of all exclaimed against Lamilia, and in her against all enticing courtesans." ... "With this he laid his head on his hand, and leant his elbow on the ground, sighing out sadly, 'Heu patior telis vulnera facta meis!'" Roberto's lamentations were overheard by one sitting on the other side of the hedge, who, getting over, offered such comfort as his ability would yield, doing so "the rather," as he said, "for that I suppose you are a scholar, and pity it is men of learning should live in lack." Greatly wondering Roberto asked how he might be employed. "'Why, easily,' quoth he, 'and greatly to your benefit; for men of my profession get by scholars their whole living.' 'What is your profession?' said Roberto. 'Truly, sir,' said he, 'I am a player.' 'A player!' quoth Roberto; 'I took you rather for a gentleman of great living; for if by outward habit men should be censured, I tell you, you would be taken for a substantial man.' 'So am I where I dwell,' quoth the player, 'reputed able at my proper cost to build a windmill.'" Roberto now again asked how he was to be used. "'Why, sir, in making plays,' said the other; 'for which you shall be well paid, if you will take the pains.' Roberto, perceiving no remedy, thought it best to respect his present necessity, (and), to try his wit, went with him willingly." As Roberto's fortunes improved Lucanio's drooped, until finally "Roberto hearing of his brother's beggary, albeit he had little remorse of his miserable state, yet did he seek him out, to use him as a property; whereby Lucanio was somewhat provided for." The character and miserable end of Roberto as a result of the profession he had assumed may be given in Greene's own words: "For now when the number of deceits caused Roberto to be hateful almost to all men, his immeasurable drinking had made him the perfect image of the dropsy, and the loathsome scourge of lust tyrannised in his bones. Living in extreme poverty, and having nothing to pay but chalk, which now his host accepted not for current, this miserable man lay comfortlessly languishing, having but one groat left (the just proportion of his father's legacy), which looking on, he cried, 'O, now it is too late, too late to buy wit with thee; and therefore will I see if I can sell to careless youth what I negligently forgot to buy.'"
To a somewhat different class of testimony belongs The Repentance of Robert Greene, probably an authentic exemplar of that very popular class of deathbed repentance that was multiplied by other hands after Greene's death. Little can be found in this work but admonitions to a higher life and caveats against lust. Such details as are given are presented with no chronology. Of his early life Greene tells us that "being at the University of Cambridge, I light amongst wags as lewd as myself, with whom I consumed the flower of my youth; who drew me to travel into Italy and Spain, in which places I saw and practised such villainy as is abominable to declare.... At my return into England, I ruffled out in my silks, in the habit of malcontent, and seemed so discontent that no place would please me to abide in, nor no vocation cause me to stay myself in: but after I had by degrees proceeded Master of Arts, I left the university and away to London; where (after I had continued some short time, and driven myself out of credit with sundry of my friends) I became an author of plays, and a penner of love-pamphlets, so that I soon grew famous in that quality, that who for that trade grown so ordinary about London as Robin Greene?" Once, Greene tells us, he felt a terror of God's judgment. This followed a lecture by a "godly learned man" in St Andrew's Church in the city of Norwich. But when his companions fell upon him, in a jesting manner calling him Puritan and precisian, and wished he might have a pulpit, what he had learned went quite out of his remembrance. "Soon after I married a gentleman's daughter of good account, with whom I lived for a while; but ... after I had a child by her, I cast her off, having spent up the marriage money which I had obtained by her.