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The Rise of a New Literary Genre: Thomas Deloney's Bourgeois Novel Jack of Newbury

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SOURCE: "The Rise of a New Literary Genre: Thomas Deloney's Bourgeois Novel Jack of Newbury," in Telling Stories: Studies in Honour of Ulrich Broich on the Occasion of His 60th Birthday, edited by Elmar Leh-mann and Bernd Lenz, B. R. Grüner, 1992, pp. 47–55.

[In the following essay, Stemmler evaluates the historical frameworks and factual details in Deloney's novels. These elements, the critic argues, enhanced the stature of Deloney's bourgeois heroes and provided his middle-class readers with exemplary figures from their own sector of Elizabethan society.]

After a long time of scholarly neglect Thomas Deloney's important contribution to the English novel has at long last been recognized. Based on the edition of his works by Francis O. Mann (1912)1, and of his novels by Merritt E. Lawlis (1961)2, a number of impressive studies have been published. Most of them deal with special topics such as style3 or structure4 of Deloney's novels, or the problem of realism in his works5.

Not despite, but because of, these detailed researches a general assessment of Deloney's first novel does not seem superfluous. I shall try to give a tentative answer to that question which is of prime importance in literary history: With what intention does a certain author write a certain type of text at a certain time?

I

In the year 1597 the London printer Humphrey Lownes publishes a small quarto which bears the long-winded title:

The pleasant history of John Winchcomb, in his younger yeares called Jack of Newberie, the famous and worthy Clothier of England: declaring his life and love, together with his charitable deeds and great hospitality; And how hee set continually five hundred poore people at worke, to the great benefit of the Commonwealth […]. (p. 2)

Thus reads the title of the eighth—the earliest extant—edition; no earlier copy of this popular novel has survived the onslaught of its avid readers; the wording of the first edition must have been very similar.

This title contains a literary programme which was quite unusual in Elizabethan times: Deloney offers the biography of an ordinary citizen. The choice of a bourgeois hero distinguishes Deloney basically from his colleagues writing before him. The protagonists of their fictional texts and plays were exclusively of aristocratic or otherwise divine descent; only ballads presented the destinies of non-aristocratic people. If ordinary citizens appeared at all in a play or a romance, they were held up to ridicule and their role remained a subservient one.

Some years before Deloney took to writing his novels, Puttenham in his Arte of English Poesie remarked with regard to comedies:

There were also Poets that wrote onely for the stage […] to recreate the people with matters of disporte, and to that intent did set forth […] the common behauiours and maner of life of priuate persons, and such as were the meaner sort of men, and they were called Comicall Poets […].6

Tragedy and serious treatment in general was reserved for the aristocracy:

[…] there were other who […] medled not with so base matters, for they set forth the dolefull falles of infortunate & afflicted Princes, & were called Poets Tragicall […].7

The Elizabethan authors at first kept to the rules developed from these observations on classical drama. Only in the last decade of the sixteenth century did citizens become worthy of tragedy: the earliest extant domestic tragedy, Arden of Faversham (1592), deals with the fate of Thomas Arden, sometime mayor of Faversham in Kent.

Deloney describes the lives of English artisans and dedicates his novels to this social group: his Jack of Newbury "to all famovs Cloth workers in England" (p. 3), his Gentle Craft "to all the good Yeomen of the Gentle Craft [i.e. the shoemakers]" (p. 91).

In this respect, too, Deloney deviates from the practice of his contemporary colleagues, who in their dedications preferred to address aristocrats. Deloney does not court the favour of an aristocratic patron but of his equals. He is not catering for aristocratic readers but for a middle-class reading public. Dieter Mehl rightly observes that a general reading public as we know it did not exist in Elizabethan times:

Die verschiedenen Formen der elisabethanischen Prosaerzählung folgen jeweils unterschiedlichen Traditionen und richten sich an beschränktere, oft kaum miteinander vergleichbare Leserkreise.8

II

Deloney's literary programme as formulated in the title page of his Jack of Newbury is also novel, since the bourgeois hero of this story is not—in contrast to the protagonists of the contemporary romances—a fictitious character but a historical figure. And, unlike other authors, Deloney keeps his promise given in the title. He does tell the story of John Winchcomb, who rose from a simple apprentice to one of the most prosperous clothiers in England.9

For this reason I take the term "history" in the title to mean not only "story, tale" but "history". History, that is, not in the modern sense, which sees the past as a period of time in its own right and very different from the present but in the Elizabethan sense, which does not separate an autonomous past from the present:

For the Elizabethans […] time was an element through which the successive generations of men moved; it was not something that changed men and made one generation of men unlike another.10

In Jack of Newbury Deloney makes use of historical details stemming from the times of Henry VIII but does not combine them to an authentic panorama of that epoch. Instead he bolsters his cause—the advancement of the Elizabethan middle class—with arguments drawn from a time eighty years since.

For this reason Deloney's novels cannot be called "historical novels"—apart from the general difficulty for all of us—except Georg Lukács perhaps—of defining this protean genre. Since the term "realistic novel" is similarly disputable, I would rather call Deloney's prose texts bourgeois novels: The bourgeois element in them is conspicuous and is essentially what makes them examples of a new literary genre.

John Winchcomb is the paragon of bourgeois virtues. Above all, the author sings the praise of his hero's diligence and thriftiness. Moreover, this clothier possesses typically aristocratic virtues already valued in medieval knights: charity towards the poor and hospitality towards one's equals and superiors.11

Deloney's bourgeois self-confidence is so remarkable that he even doubts the hitherto undisputed subordination of the middle class to the aristocracy. He supplements several scenes which are intended to prove the equality or even superiority of his own class: Jack of Newbury invites aristocratic guests to his wedding; his bride is led to the church by two young knights; Henry VIII is invited—and comes—to one of Jack's banquets. Jack refuses to be knighted, since he does not care about "the vaine titles of Gentilitie" (p. 49). The Queen's words might easily serve as his motto: "a Clothier by trade, yet a Gentleman by condition" (p. 32).

III

Why did this kind of bourgeois novel with strong historical elements originate at the end of the sixteenth century? Are there especially favourable conditions for a new type of narrative texts at this time?

The answer may be sought in the dialectics of the economic importance of the middle classes and their political and literary underrepresentation. It is well-known that by the second half of the sixteenth century the English middle classes are beginning to prosper to an unprecedented extent.

By the expansion of the markets, the establishment of larger manufactories, the participation in new miningcompanies, and technological progress the English merchants and clothiers benefit above all from this prosperity. The growing importance of capital is signalled by the legalization of interest and the founding of the London stock exchange in the years 1571 and 1572.

On the other hand, the old aristocracy is faced with a severe crisis. Often the costly maintenance of their households, excessive hospitality, and obligation to take over public offices force many aristocratic families to sell large parts of their lands and run them into debt. This socio-economic situation is at variance with the political representation of the middle classes. Though their political influence was on the increase, they were underrepresented in the House of Commons:

If the statutes governing elections had been observed an Elizabethan House of Commons would have consisted of ninety knights of the shire, or landed gentlemen, and upwards of three hundred burgesses, or middle-class townsmen. In practice, the figures were not far from being reversed. The landed gentry had 'captured' the boroughs and with them the House of Commons.12

Already the years between 1540 and 1570

[…] saw the only other section of the community which might have made a bid for parliamentary power, the industrial and commercial capitalists, elbowed out by their social betters.13

This political rivalry, which existed despite a certain permeability between both classes, is alluded to in Jack of Newbury where Jack's wife and one of her "gossips" talk casually about his being returned to Parliament:

"[…] I heard say your husband is chosen for our Burgesse in the Parliament house, is it true?" "Yes verily quoth his wife. I wis it is against his will; for it will be no small charges vnto him." " […] thankes be to God, there is neuer a Gentleman in all Barkshire that is better able to beare it." (p. 70)

IV

Likewise, the economic importance of the bourgeois class is only faintly reflected in established contemporary literature which, as we have seen, selected their subjects according to the traditional precepts of Renaissance poetics. Before Arden of Faversham (1592), members of the middle class were not taken seriously on the stage. And also in the realm of fiction the bourgeoisie was heavily underrepresented. Through tragedies and romances moved an endless procession of aristocratic heroes and heroines.

This deficit is particularly striking since—apart from the aristocracy—the lowest social group, that of the vagabonds and criminals, is well represented. The crooks of London's seamy side were certainly not delighted to find themselves portrayed in numerous tales and pamphlets of the time.

It was Deloney who realized the almost total absence of merchants in contemporary literature and tried to close this gap by making the deeds of English artisans and entrepreneurs the sole and serious subject of a literary text. He obviously gratifies the wish of his own class for literary representation and political recognition.

V

Thus the appearance of the bourgeois novel at the end of the sixteenth century becomes explicable. The ensuing question is why Deloney chose a historical frame for his novels and why he introduced so many historical details into this new type of fiction.

Despite the novelty of Deloney's enterprise his bourgeois novels did not originate ex nihilo. During the last two decades of the sixteenth century the growing self-assurance of the English middle classes found its expression not in the traditionally respected literary genres but in rather artless ballads—a kind of sub-literature despised by aristocratic poets and university wits alike.

In some of these ballads the exemplary bravery and magnanimity of real or fictitious English middle-class people of the past are praised. The metamorphosis of the bourgeois into a knightly hero involves him in adventures and crusades—a privilege formerly reserved for the upper classes.

Such efforts to upgrade the English middle class are thus characterized by a return to the romance tradition and the use of historical or pseudo-historical material. Though the results are different, both procedures are motivated by the same purpose: to provide the bourgeois with a fictitious or historical past. His self-confidence requires a line of ancestors which relieves him of the odium of being an upstart without history.

By supplying the middle classes with a respectable past the authors of some Elizabethan ballads or chronicles (which increasingly deal with non-aristocratic people) do not only cater for the collective pride of this class but are thus in a position to drive home their lessons: History presents exemplary figures and serves a didactic purpose.

The adaptation of this traditionally didactic function of history to the needs of the middle classes contrasts with the conventional strategy, which admits only high-born people as exemplary figures of history. A glance at two contemporary comments on this point is revealing.

The traditional standpoint is represented by Puttenham. In his Arte of English Poesie he expressis verbis excludes the middle and lower classes from the didactic function of historical examples:

Now because the actions of meane & base personages tend in very few cases to any great good example; for who passeth to follow the steps and maner of life of a craftes man, shepheard, or sailer […]? therefore was nothing committed to historie but matters of great and excellent persons & things […].14

In other words:

[…] the good and bad of Princes is more exemplarie, and thereby of greater moment then the priuate persons.15

The radically different, bourgeois position is advocated by Richard Johnson in his Nine Worthies of London written three years after Puttenham's essay and five years before Deloney's Jack of Newbury. In this text Fama leads Clio, the Muse of History, to the Elysian Fields; here each of the Nine Worthies tells his own story, which is noted down by Clio.

To the delight of the London companies, all the Nine Worthies are London citizens, among them the fishmonger William Walworth who lived under the reign of Richard II, the vintner Henry Pritchard living at the times of Edward III, etc. These citizens have replaced the usually mentioned pagan, Jewish and Christian princes and military leaders.

The author himself comments on this daring transformation. He makes Fama lecture to the Muses:

It is not of kinges and mightie potentates, but such whose vertues made them great, and whose renowne sprung not of the noblenes of their birth, but of the notable torwardnesse of their well qualified mindes […]. Of these must you indite […].16

It is exactly with this purpose in mind that Deloney describes the lives of his bourgeois heroes. He shows his middle-class readers that history furnishes many examples of virtuous, hardworking, competent artisans who were worthy representatives of their social class.

VI

There remains a last question: Why did Deloney offer the readers his exemplary bourgeois hero in the frame of a pseudo-historical novel and not in a kind of chronicle? Why "applied historiography" instead of "pure history"?

This question is the variant of a problem that has occupied the minds of poets and historiographers since classical times. This discussion starts from a passage in Aristotle's Poetics where the functions of poetry and history are compared:

[…] poetry is something more philosophical and more worthy of serious attention than history; for while poetry is concerned with universal truths, history treats of particular facts.17

In Hellenistic times some historiographers like Phylarchos or Duris of Samos tried to make their works "more philosophical" and "more general" by poetic means; they were promptly attacked by historians like Polybios.

During the Christian Middle Ages historia reporting facts—at least in theory—triumphed over the poet's fabula telling invented stories. Renaissance poetics picked up Aristotle's notions and upgraded the literary treatment of historical subjects. It was argued that the didactic function of history could be better achieved by poetic historiography than by a merely factual one, for the latter also reported negative facts about an otherwise exemplary hero, thus leading the reader astray. This could be avoided by literary historiography, which is entitled to select facts and re-arrange them according to an overall pattern. In Sidney's words:

If the poet doe his part a-right, he will shew you in Tantalus, Atreus, and such like, nothing that is not to be shunned; in Cyrus, Aeneas, Vlysses, each thing to be followed; where the Historian, bound to tell things as things were, cannot be liberall […] of a perfect patterne, but […] shew dooings, some to be liked, some to be misliked.18

Deloney was obviously of the same opinion. By choosing the genre of literary historiography, i.e. a kind of pseudo-historical novel, he was able to make the life of his bourgeois hero as exemplary as possible.

Notes

1The Works of Thomas Deloney, Oxford 1912; repr. 1967.

2The Novels of Thomas Deloney, Bloomington 1961. All quotations are taken from this edition.

3 E.g. Lawlis, Apology for the Middle Class, Bloomington 1960.

4 E.g. Lawlis, Apology; Jürgen Wolter, Das Prosawerk Thomas Deloneys, Bonn 1976.

5 E.g. Walter R. Davis, Idea and Act in Elizabethan Fiction, Princeton 1969; Kurt M. Pätzold, Historischer Roman und Realismus: Das Erzählwerk Thomas Deloneys, Regensburg 1972.

6 In: George G. Smith (ed.), Elizabethan Critical Essays, 2 vols., Oxford 1904, vol. 2, pp. 1–193, here p. 27.

7 P. 27.

8Der englische Roman bis zum Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts, Düsseldorf 1977, p. 17: "The various forms of Elizabethan prose narrative that are each determined by different traditions are addressed at rather limited readerships hardly comparable to one another." (Translation: editorial team.)

9 See DNB, s.v. "Winchcomb, John".

10 Walter Allen, The English Novel, Harmondsworth 1958, p. 23.

11 For details see Pätzold.

12 Stanley T. Bindoff, Tudor England, Harmondsworth 1950, p. 216.

13 P. 216.—For exact figures see John E. Neale, The Elizabethan House of Commons, Harmondsworth 1963 (11961), pp. 139–40.

14Elizabethan Critical Essays, vol. 2, p. 43.

15 P. 45.

16 William Oldys and Thomas Park (eds.), The Harleian Miscellany: A collection of scarce, curious, and entertaining pamphlets and tracts as well in manuscript as in print, 10 vols., London 1811, vol. 8, p. 439.

17Classical Literary Criticism, ed. and transi. by Theodor S. Dorsch, Harmondsworth 1965, pp. 43–44.

18An Apologie for Poetrie, in: Elizabethan Critical Essays, vol. 1, pp. 148–207, here p. 168.

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