The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare

In Short

This work provides a comprehensive literary history of English prose fiction from the early modern period through the seventeenth century. It examines the transition from chivalric romances and pastoral fantasies—such as those by Sidney and Lyly—to the satirical, picaresque, and realistic narratives of writers like Dekker and Greene. By analyzing how these early authors navigated the tension between classical artifice and the emerging desire for authentic human experience, the book illuminates the foundations upon which the modern English novel was eventually built.

The Story

The narrative begins by grounding the English novel in the soil of the Middle Ages. The author posits a fundamental shift in the literary landscape: while the ancient heroes of epic poetry like Beowulf conquered external monsters, the heroes of the new romantic prose conquered only their own passions. This transition marks the birth of the "lover-hero," a figure who, like Lancelot, remains a permanent fixture of our collective imagination. The story of the English novel, therefore, is the story of how writers struggled to balance these inherited, idealistic tales of chivalry with a growing, albeit hesitant, interest in the actualities of English life.

As the account moves into the time of Shakespeare, the prose grows increasingly ornate and stylized. Writers such as John Lyly in Euphues attempt to graft complex moral instructions and classical allusions onto the structure of the novel. These works are marked by a profound artifice—characters speak in high-flown, polished monologues, and the settings are often idealized, pastoral versions of "Arcadia." The author vividly illustrates this period of "gorgeous eloquence" by describing how the theatrical costumes of the era—lace ruffs and stiffened farthingales—were projected onto historical figures like Cleopatra, regardless of historical accuracy. The novel of this time is not a mirror of nature, but a highly decorated, performative construct.

However, the arc of the book reveals a gradual, inevitable pull toward the mundane. As the influence of these grand, romanticized figures begins to wane, authors like Robert Greene and Thomas Dekker introduce characters who are increasingly tethered to the street-level realities of London. The narrative shifts from the courtly dialogues of shepherds to the vivid, often humorous, and sometimes sordid exchanges between players, tinkers, and hosts of low-rent taverns. This is a move toward the "rogue" story, where the focus shifts from the noble quest to the sharp-witted survivor.

The progression culminates in the seventeenth-century reaction against the excesses of the heroic romance. The author describes the rise of a more skeptical, satirical spirit, where the grandiloquent, wig-wearing princes of earlier tales are replaced by characters whose motivations are grounded in human folly, appetite, and social ambition. By the end of this historical survey, the novel has shed its purely idealistic skin. It has become a medium capable of reflecting not just the aspirations of the court, but the complex, often messy reality of the common individual. The journey is complete: the novel has evolved from a tool for courtly edification into a sophisticated instrument for exploring the human condition in all its diverse and often contradictory forms.

How It Unfolds

The medieval inheritance The account opens by contrasting the external, monster-slaying hero of ancient epic with the internal, love-driven protagonist of the prose romance. This shift sets the stage for a literature that values subjective passion over physical conquest.

The age of ornament The focus shifts to the Elizabethan era, where prose writers prioritized "gorgeous eloquence" and classical artifice over naturalism. The author demonstrates how authors like Lyly used flowery, rigid language to serve as both entertainment and moral instruction.

The intrusion of the real The middle sections trace the slow encroachment of the common world into the pastoral garden of the romance. Writers begin to incorporate the voices of players and laborers, grounding their narratives in the recognizable rhythms of English life.

The reaction against excess The final stages detail the decline of the "heroical romance" as public taste pivots toward satire and realism. The author examines how the once-admired, grandiloquent style was increasingly viewed as an object of parody and historical curiosity.

The People

The book focuses on the creators and the characters who defined these shifting trends. John Lyly stands as the architect of the ornate, pedagogical novel; he is the champion of moral instruction through refined, polished prose, though he is often hampered by the very artifice he employs. Philip Sidney embodies the transition between the soldier-poet and the prose writer; his Arcadia serves as the bridge where classical, heroic ideals meet the nascent English novel.

Robert Greene and Thomas Dekker represent the movement toward the picaresque and the vivid. Greene is depicted as a man of his time, navigating the fickle nature of literary success, while Dekker captures the "vividly" drawn lives of the lower classes, such as his roguish tinkers and tavern hosts. These figures are not static; they are caught in a tug-of-war between their desire for classical status and their instinct for the raw, human detail. As the narrative progresses, the "hero" of the novel changes from the noble, courtly figure to the clever, street-wise survivor, reflecting the changing values of the English audience.

In Its Own Voice

"They can take Constantinople, or destroy the Roman armies; they can fight green giants and strange monsters, besiege castles of steel, put traitors to death, and escape even the evil practices of enchanters; but they cannot conquer their passions."

The author contrasts the physical prowess of ancient epic heroes with the internal, emotional struggles of the romantic heroes who replaced them.

"It is good nurture that leadeth to virtue, and discreete demeanour that playneth the path to felicitie."

The author quotes Lyly’s work to demonstrate how prose writers of the period used the novel as a vehicle for moral and social instruction.

"What, shepheardesse, so fayre and so cruell?... Because thou art beautifull, be not so coye: as there is nothing more faire, so there is nothing more fading."

This passage from a romance illustrates the stylized, repetitive, and moralizing dialogue common to the pastoral stories of the time.

What It's Really About

The central argument concerns the tension between the "heroical" ideal and the "human" reality. The book asks why, despite the rapid development of the English language and the changing social climate, the "lover-hero" remains the core of our stories. It interrogates the value of artifice: Is the ornate, stylized writing of the Renaissance a failure of realism, or a necessary stage in the maturation of the genre? Ultimately, the book is a study of how a nation finds its own voice—by moving away from the mimicry of classical models and toward the observation of its own streets, taverns, and ordinary people. It is an exploration of how fiction slowly learned to prioritize the truth of the heart over the rhetoric of the schoolroom.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the "backstage" history of literature will find this book deeply rewarding. It does not treat the novel as a static form, but as a living, changing creature that grew out of a specific, often strange, historical context. You will learn to see the works of the past not as dusty relics, but as the direct ancestors of our modern obsession with the personal and the psychological. The prose is warm and inquisitive, inviting the reader to look closely at the way Shakespeare’s contemporaries dressed, spoke, and dreamt.

The book is honest about the challenges of its subject. It does not shy away from the fact that early novels—with their endless monologues, stilted pastoral poetry, and convoluted plots—can be difficult for a modern reader to digest. It acknowledges the "dust and cobwebbes" that have settled on these texts, but it offers a gentle, expert hand to help you brush them away. By connecting the far-flung, wig-wearing heroes of the seventeenth century to the familiar characters in the novels of George Eliot and Walter Scott, it creates a sense of continuity that stays with you. It is a quiet, precise guide for anyone who wants to understand how we arrived at the stories we tell today.