I find myself teaching a lot of Sidney and Spenser in my classes -- much more than I ever thought I would, in fact, since I'm a Shakespearean by vocation. In my "Defending Poetry" class this spring, we spent nearly half the semester reading nothing but Sidney and Spenser: we began with a lengthy reading of Sidney's Defence of Poesie, along with some sonnets from Astrophil and Stella, and then progressed through Spenser's Shepheard's Calender, and selections from the Amoretti and (the prefatory materials to) The Faerie Queene. In the 1590s (and beyond) there was simply no escaping either Spenser or Sidney -- they were often thought of and mentioned together as the two greatest contemporary poets, heirs to and guarantors of England's nascent literary history. (Indeed, Spenser was not shy about comparing himself to Chaucer, the "Loadstarre of our Language.") It makes a great deal of sense, then, that our earliest copies of the works of both Sidney and Spenser look remarkably similar:
Faking 1599
The title of this book is misleading -- it is mostly an account of the death of King Richard II, detailing his downfall and overthrow by Henry Bolingbroke, who seized the throne and was crowned as King Henry IV. The imprint states that it was printed in 1599, but it was actually printed decades later. Censorship was not as repressive, pervasive, or effective in Shakespeare's England as it has often been thought to be. Nevertheless, censorship did exist, and so attempts to avoid it -- or to exploit it -- are of particular interest.
Notable Notes
[This is a guest post by Rachel Stevenson, my independent study student who has been studiously digging through our STC collection this semester. As part of her independent study, she's required to write short research essays on some of the interesting things she's found -- and instead of keeping it to myself, we agreed that she would write a post for Anchora. This has also been a good week for Rachel -- she was awarded the English department's annual prize for the best essay on Shakespeare, and I received word that we've been awarded an Iowa Center for Research by Undergraduates grant, so that Rachel can continue digging through our collection over the summer. Good work!]
The case of Thomas Lupton's A Thousand Notable Things of Sundry Sorts (catalog entry here) is a perplexing one, because it is an assemblage of items without any sort of organization. This did not deter our reader, who wrote his own headings and notes, turning this book from a confusing amalgam into a useful reference book. Other people involved in publishing the book, Edward White and James Roberts, add to the interest surrounding the publication. I am fascinated with the intricate web of the London book trade and the intertwining connections between different printers and publishers.
The case of Thomas Lupton's A Thousand Notable Things of Sundry Sorts (catalog entry here) is a perplexing one, because it is an assemblage of items without any sort of organization. This did not deter our reader, who wrote his own headings and notes, turning this book from a confusing amalgam into a useful reference book. Other people involved in publishing the book, Edward White and James Roberts, add to the interest surrounding the publication. I am fascinated with the intricate web of the London book trade and the intertwining connections between different printers and publishers.
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