“The Lie”:
The Truth About Reality
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Soldier, sailor, explorer, pioneer, and courtier. These all describe Sir Walter Ralegh, one of the renowned sixteenth century male figures of the English Renaissance, as well as an interesting and intriguing writer. While he was not quite as genius and intuitive in his writing as other great minds of his time, he still shared much in common with his fellow contemporaries, such as Spensera (for whose introduction to the court and receipt of pension for Faery Queen he was responsible), Sidney, and Marlowe. And, as mentioned before, although Ralegh wasn’t as talented as his peers, it is precisely his struggle with the forces of Elizabethan romanticism and his struggle with his own beliefs and passions that makes his literature fascinating to study. Ralegh’s work has a unique characteristic apart from his fellow writers. M.C. Bradbrook discusses in his book, The School of Night: A Study in the Literary Relations of Sir Walter Ralegh, that Ralegh’s verse “keeps some of the habits of the earlier writers like Wyatt (who had been buried at Sherborne ten years before Ralegh was born), and yet foreshadows later developments. It is new wine poured into old bottles” (77).
But because Ralegh was not solely a writer, but also a world traveler and courtier, much of the literature published about him discusses his persona. In fact, little is written about his works, his main works being The History of the World and The Discovery of Guinea and his most renowned poem being, “The Lie,” which will be discussed further in this essay. Ralegh’s literature, especially his poetry, may be seen as immaturely simple compared to some of the intricate themes, structure, and wording that his colleagues exhibited. The rhyming scheme of some of his poetry is childishly simple, running in a sing-song fashion, much like young children’s nursery rhymes. However, once one accepts Ralegh’s artistic shortcomings, or the fact that, as Tucker Brooke explains in his book, Essays on Shakespeare and Other Elizabethans, “Ralegh’s imagination destroyed nearly as much as it created”, one is able to appreciate the intense substance that is evident in his work (121).
One of Ralegh’s consistent themes evident in his work is the theme of deep truth opposed to superficial appearance. In his poem, “The Lie,” he claims that we all live a superficial life, believing reality to be quite something different from what it realistically is. Much of specifically this theme must have developed from certain aspects of Ralegh’s life, from his personal and social experiences. In order to understand an author’s work, an understanding of his life is essential. Brooke proves this statement in discussing how Ralegh’s prose derives from his experiences on the battlefield or on voyages and how his poetry derives from the repining of life at court, through the loss of favor of Queen Elizabeth and the competition for her favor with Essex and Sidney.
Sir Walter Ralegh’s roots began as the youngest son of the Devon family which may or may not have had royal blood. By the time Ralegh was born, misfortune had taken over and any money that the family may have had was no longer existent. His father was remarried three times, Ralegh being the son of the third wife, who was widowed and had two sons of her own, Humphrey and Adrian Gilbert, with whom Ralegh became very close.
The first thirty years of Ralegh’s life were spent on the sea or on land fighting. His education consisted of two years at Oxford when he was fifteen years old. But he left school when he joined his mother’s nephew, Henry Champernoun, to fight with the Huguenots in France against the Catholics (he himself was a Protestant). The following ten years are somewhat vague and not documented very well. He may or may not have fought with his half-brother, Humphrey, against the Spaniards in the Netherlands. And although Raleghs is known to have been in France for a short while, historians are unsure if he was in Paris or not to witness the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. After these ten vague, sporadic years of fighting, Ralegh decided to temporarily stray from his “son of the sea” roots to test his land legs in the court scene.
Although hated by the majority of his acquaintances for his pride and feisty temperament, Ralegh was seen as quite the gentleman in the eyes of Queen Elizabeth and soon became a favorite of hers. In fact, it is said that Elizabeth’s first impression of Ralegh was when he took off his cloak to cover the mud that Elizabeth would have otherwise stepped in when dismounting from her carriage. With such close feelings towards Ralegh, Queen Elizabeth soon forgot about her previous favorite, Sir Philip Sidney, who incidentally died in battle in a skirmish at Zutphen when sending troops into the Netherlands.
Eventually Ralegh was so favored he was made Captain of the Guard, knighted, given estates in Ireland (that were forfeited by Desmond rebellion), and estates in England (that were forfeited by conspirators in Babington’s plot). And more importantly, he was given permission to explore North America, a land previously ignored by the British. Ralegh may truly be seen as the “father of English Colonial Empire which today has developed into the British Commonwealth of Nations” (Innes 147).
However, despite his initial impression upon Queen Elizabeth, Ralegh was imprisoned in the Tower for some time for assumedly illegitimately sleeping with one of Queen Elizabeth’s maids of honor, Bess Throckmorton (although it is typically assumed that the two were already married when this relationship was discovered). The sole reason for Ralegh’s release was that Martin Frobisher, the new leader of the North American expedition and a favorite of Queen Elizabeth’s, returned from the private raid of the Spanish commerce (an idea that in fact belonged to Ralegh), and needed to entrust the loot to someone the sailors respected.
Ralegh was then executed on October 29, 1618, after fourteen years of imprisonment again in the Tower. This imprisonment was due to King James’ accusation that Ralegh had “sold England to the Spaniards” (Innes 159). The English popular opinion, however, was that Ralegh was only put to death as a sick appeasement of the Spanish forces, the new allies of the English. And when he was executed, the English believed that “We have not such another head to be cut off” (Innes 162).
Sir Walter Ralegh was a renaissance man who delved into each area of life, maintaining his position as a frequent visitor of the Mermaid Tavern, mingling among other great literary minds. As Innes eloquently puts it, Ralegh "lives as the supreme type of what we mean by the Elizabethan spirit, its tremendous energy, its daring and self-reliance, its fiery impulsiveness, its intense enjoyment of life, its curious combination of hardness with generosity and of practicality with idealism” (162). And this Elizabethan spirit is evident in all his literature, including, “The Lie.”
Sir Walter Ralegh’s poem, “The Lie,” speaks of the superficial meanings of life that we make for ourselves. Stephen J. Greenblatt discusses in his book, Sir Walter Ralegh: The Renaissance Man and His Roles, how “The Lie” exhibits a great “faith in the immortal soul and its deep contempt for the insolence and presumption of worldly men and institutions” (Greenblatt 172). These meanings become so potent that we grow to believe the “lies” to be truths. We believe there to be genuinely kind people, who do kind acts without any thought to the positive consequences of their actions. The government is perceived as honestly caring about its subjects, not merely on a narrow-minded search for power. Ralegh criticizes every aspect of society in his poem, accusing the church, the court, the rich, accusing potentates, schools, and friends of not seeing the truth, blinded by the stereotypes we create for ourselves.
“The Lie” was published in 1608, but Ralegh, born in 1552, wrote in the sixteenth-century style. His rhyming scheme is very simple and sing-songy, much different from the more intricate sonnet rhythm that was rising at the time. It follows an ababcc pattern. For example, the first stanza’s pattern is as such: guest/arrant/best/warrant/die/lie. Guest rhymes with best, arrant with warrant, and finally the last two lines of the six line stanza rhyme together with die and lie.
In the first stanza of the poem, Ralegh speaks to his Soul—the essence of each person which is independent of the physical body—for the Soul is the only aspect of us that knows the truth: “Go, soul, the body’s guest,/Upon a thankless arrant;/Fear not to touch the best;/The truth shall be thy warrant./Go, since I needs must die,/And give the world the lie” (Ralegh lines 1-6). The Soul is given a noble position, for it is referred to as being the body’s guest. It is referred to in such a way for, being independent of the body, it departs from the body when the body no longer needs it: when the body is dead. And when the body dies and the Soul departs, Ralegh explains that It must depart on a “thankless arrant.” Because the Soul, the essence of our humanity, knows the truth and quintessence of reality, It has the duty of sharing the truth with the world, despite what the world wishes to hear. The Soul is not to spare the truth from anyone; it must not fear anyone: “Fear not to touch the best” (Ralegh 3). The truth in itself is such a great thing, that the Soul is forced to spread it, making people aware of the false life they are living, “giving them the lie,” or rather telling them they are liars.
The first stanza serves as a type of introduction, setting the poem’s negative tone and theme and telling the reader what general meaning to expect from the poem. In the second line, the word “thankless” already suggests that the Soul’s arrant (rather errand, message or purpose) is not appreciated. Because humans are stubborn, believing only what they wish, the Soul’s telling of the truth is predicted by Ralegh not to be taken well.
The second stanza begins the long list of criticisms of the different groups of liars in the world. The stanza is as follows: “Say to the court, it glows/And shines like rotten wood;/Say to the church, it shows/What’s good, and doth no good:/If church and court reply,/Then give them both the lie” (Ralegh, 7-23). The court is referred to as simply shimmering on the outside, possessing aesthetical beauty, but no substance. It is as distinguished and brilliant as rotten wood. Obviously, Ralegh is being sarcastic here, suggesting that the court, although maintaining a brilliant skin, is nothing but a disgusting, decomposing, deceiving body on the inside.
Ralegh then attacks the church for possessing the same superficial characteristics as the court (both being institutions that ideally should uphold the truth). The church is no better, for it is a hypocrite, telling its members what good acts are, how a moral man should act, but yet does not enacting its own advice. With this knowledge that both the church and court are mere impostors of the truth, the Soul has the duty of telling them both that they are liars.
In the third stanza, Ralegh attacks the potentates, or rulers who are gifted with independent power: “Tell potentates, they live/Acting by others’ action;/Not loved unless they give,/Not strong but by affection./If potentates reply/Give potentates the lie” (Ralegh 13-18). The potentates act only insofar as reacting is concerned, never taking it upon themselves to initiate action. They live, “acting by others’ action” (Ralegh 14).
And while Ralegh first criticizes the rulers, he then turns on the ruled and criticizes them as well, suggesting that the subjects do not truly love their rulers, only greedily taking what the rulers offer. He then suggests that the potentates are “not strong but by affection,” merely yearning or lusting for power, not seriously caring for their people, only insofar as the people’s appreciation of the ruler will further the ruler’s empowerment (Ralegh 16). Ralegh again demands the Soul to tell potentates and their subjects that they are liars, for they are both concerned only about their own circumstantial benefit.
In the fourth stanza, Ralegh criticizes the rich, or “men of high condition,” stating that their only goal, or purpose, is the desire to achieve greater influence and notoriety, or ambition. The stanza is as follows: “Tell men of high condition,/That manage the estate/Their purpose is ambition,/Their practice only hate:/And if they once reply,/Then give them all the lie” (Ralegh 19-24). Ralegh explains that the rich, who are in charge of property, only live in order to better their situation in life. The line, “their practice only hate,” refers to the lack of love seen in the rich, who think only of themselves as above all others.
Ralegh then further criticizes the rich, but in a different manner from the preceding stanza: “Tell them that brave it most,/They beg for more by spending,/Who, in their greatest cost,/Seek nothing but commending:/And if they make reply,/Then give them all the lie” (Ralegh 25-30). The saying “brave it most,” refers to those who dress extravagantly (line 23). So, those who dress most extravagantly beg for more by spending, meaning that despite the amount of money spent on clothing, the yearning for more will never be quenched. And this desire is rooted in the need for commendation, simple approval. Ralegh insists that they are looking for this commendation, however, in the wrong place, a superficial place. Hence, not being aware of reality and the truth, these extravagant dressers and attention-seekers are liars as well.
The sixth stanza speaks of feelings and their insincerity: “Tell zeal it wants devotion;/Tell love it is but lust;/Tell time it metes but motion;/Tell flesh it is but dust:/And wish them not reply,/For thou must give the lie” (Ralegh 31-36). Zeal lacks devotion, or loyalty, suggesting that zeal is not genuine, existing only for the benefit of the feeler. And Ralegh states that love is the same way, not existing substantially but as is a mere insatiable appetite. Time is seen as a mere measurement of time (metes means measures), which lacks any human, symbolic meaning in this life-lie. And again, if we continue to live a lie of life, living a shadow of what reality actually is, then “Flesh it is but dust” (line 32). This morbid line suggests that the only point of our life, our coming to fleshy being, is death, for we do not truly enjoy life to its fullest, embracing the truth. Hence, the Soul must tell zeal, love, time, and flesh that they are all mere liars.
The next stanza again attempts to destroy our assumed values. It discusses age, honor, beauty, and favor: "Tell age it daily wasteth;/Tell honour how it alters;/Tell beauty how she blasteth;/Tell favour how it falters:/And as they shall reply,/Give every one the lie” (Ralegh 37-42). Ralegh speaks of age, referring to our personal growth, and how we do not take advantage of what the world offers. It “daily wasteth” (line 35), for we live the lie, not appreciating the truths of the world.
Honor is interpreted as dishonest, for on the drop of a dime, one may lose one’s honor for inconsequential reasons, like the loss of money or status. Beauty wastes away for it is not an inner but an outer, surface beauty that is considered by society. And favor falters just as easily as does honor, for one may fall out of favor extremely quickly, again based on superficial nonsensical reasons. The line may also mean that people place favor upon others through misjudgments and faulty reasoning.
In the eighth stanza, Ralegh speaks to wit and wisdom: “Tell wit how much it wrangles/In tickle points of niceness;/Tell wisdom she entangles/Herself in overwiseness:/And when they do reply,/Straight give them both the lie” (Ralegh 43-48). Wit bickers over sensitive and insecure instances of over-refinement. What may seem a substantial, important discussion is merely a superfluous concern over an inconsequential and foolish issue.
And wisdom is just as guilty as wit is, for she involves herself in petty quarrels, embarrassing herself, making her affected knowledge and lack of insight obvious. Ralegh criticizes wit and wisdom for superficially showing off needlessly. Hence, not using their gifts for what they are, wit and wisdom are also liars. .
And so the poem continues, criticizing each area of our society and value system as a superficial set of lies. The ninth stanza speaks of physic, skill, charity and the law. It follows as such: “Tell physic of her boldness;/Tell skill it is prevention;/Tell charity of coldness;/Tell law it is contention:/And as they do reply,/So give them still the lie” (Ralegh 49-54). Medicine, or physic, is too sure of itself believing that it may stop Mother Nature in her tracks. Despite the superficial belief that everyone is charitable and kind, Ralegh reminds of us selfishness and cruelty. Our laws are not always formed for the best consequences and sometimes result in the opposite. Ralegh states that if physic, skill, charity or law try to explain that they do not live a lie, the Soul must be pursuant and continue in His reproach that they are but mere liars.
The tenth stanza speaks to fortune, nature, friendship and justice: “Tell fortune of her blindness;/Tell nature of decay;/Tell friendship of unkindness;/Tell justice of delay:/And if they will reply,/Then give them all the lie” (Ralegh 55-60). Ralegh speaks of our blind beliefs that there is only happiness and good fortune in the world, we are merely ignorant. Also, Fortune is blind to those who truly deserve it. Ralegh then reminds us that, despite the beauty and vigor of youth, there is also decay. In spite of friendship there is also unkindness. Despite a justice system, the laws are merely written rules, helping the rich and influential become more rich and influential, and denying the unfortunate a chance.
The eleventh stanza refers to the arts and schools: “Tell arts they have no soundness,/But vary by esteeming;/Tell schools they want profoundness,/And stand too much on seeming:/If arts and schools reply,/Give arts and schools the lie” (Ralegh 61-66). Arts are simply, in the mind of Ralegh, a superficial name. They have no substance, the only status they have being one attained by the esteem achieved from a false persona. There is no truth to the arts. Ralegh also refers to schools as lacking profoundness. Just as the arts lack substance, so do schools, that possibly just teach mathematics and science, without giving any essence, any real material, treating English, history, and philosophy as mere numbers and equations. Hence, even what is supposed to be the most humane and deep area of our lives, the arts, is also a liar. The Soul must tell the arts and schools that they too are liars.
The twelfth stanza refers to faith, the government, manhood in general and virtue: “Tell faith it’s fled the city;/Tell how the country erreth;/Tell, manhood shakes off pity/Tell, virtue least preferreth:/And if they do reply,/Spare not to give the lie” (Ralegh 67-72). For Ralegh there is no true faith left in this world, for he has in fact lost it himself. The country wrongs in instances of living lies, not aware of the consequences of such actions. Manhood, in its utterly cruelty, has no pity for others. Each man lives for himself. And because of this, virtue is not something that many aspire to. One gets the sense from this stanza in particular that the world is a “dog-eat-dog” world, where each man must fend for himself while living the lie.
The final stanza is an explanation to the Soul by Ralegh of the Soul’s duty: “So when thou hast, as I/Commended thee, done blabbing,/Although to give the lie/Deserves no less than stabbing,/Stab at thee he that will,/No stab the soul can kill’ (Ralegh 73-78). Ralegh speaks to his Soul, saying that when it has finished its arrant, and has finished blabbing (or revealing secrets, namely that the world is a mixture of lies), the world may be better of for now knowing the truth, despite its disinterest in accepting the truth.
Ralegh believes that the world is composed of fakes and insincere beliefs and sees it as the Soul's duty to enlighten humanity, despite their presumed response of disbelief and hate. The poem connects very closely with the theme of Plato's The Republic. In a chapter of this book, a group of prisoners, who are chained and unable to look anywhere but straight ahead of them. All these prisoners are able to see is a series of shadows. At a certain point, one prisoner is set free and is able to escape. He realizes the source of the shadow to be a set of objects maneuvered in certain ways behind a fire, hence casting certain shadows. The prisoner is then let out of the cave, and after the painful adjustment to the bright sunshine, he soon becomes aware of his new surroundings, aware of the actual truths of life, rather than the lies that he had been accustomed to. When he returns to the cave, however, with this new knowledge, his fellow prisoner don't believe him and ostracize him for speaking blasphemy. Hence, the prisoner in Plato's The Republic, which was written around 360 BC, plays the same role as the Soul plays in Ralegh's poem. Whether or not Ralegh was influenced by Plato's work, is not obvious. It is, however, very possible, for there are very similar themes of enlightenment in both works.
Much of the substance and theme of truth in this poem has to do with Ralegh’s experience of the world. He was let down by almost everyone he knew. Hence it is understandable that his outlook on life may not be very positive, feeling that every person’s attitudes or expressions were all lies, ways of surviving in a cruel, competitive world. Although, judging by Ralegh’s feisty temperament, one would expect him to succeed in this lying world, this is not the case.
Ralegh’s experience with Queen Elizabeth and his sentence to death by King James II, explain some of the hostile feelings he holds towards the court. It also explains the antagonistic sentiments he feels towards virtue, pity, friendship, love, favor and honor. Queen Elizabeth, who had favored Ralegh for quite a while, was not the easiest to please. As A.L. Rowse explains in his book, Sir Walter Ralegh: His Family and Private Life, “there were ups and downs of favour; it was not all honey being a favourite. And that there were wounds in this strained and unnatural relationship we can read in such lines as these […]” (Rowse 152). Ralegh was obviously emotionally hurt by Elizabeth’s games, favoring him one moment, completely disregarding him the next, as she threw him into prison for having a child with one of her maids of honor.
From these feelings, it is easy to understand Ralegh’s critical lines about potentates and the court. He had extremely bad experiences with both potentates and the court. And the experiences he had affected his view of favor and honor, both of which he lost and regained due to futile matters, having to do with money and the circumstance. J.H. Adamson and H.F. Folland explain in The Shepherd of the Ocean that “The Lie” embodies “[h]ow Ralegh really felt about Elizabeth while he was suffering the disgrace to his own honour and smarting under the coarse slandering of Bess . . . Savage in tone, it was obviously written from deep and bitter hurt” (Adamson 209).
Even the structure of “The Lie,” expresses Ralegh’s contempt for the world due to his experience in it. “The Lie, for instance, is built on parallel clauses and a slightly varied refrain, which emphasizes the brute energy of the vituperation” (Bradbrook 79). Bradbrook continues to explain that Ralegh’s “monosyllables and . . . imagery are crisp with contempt” and describes how the last stanza “ends in magnificent self-assertion. Ralegh has forgotten his enmities to exult in the sense of power his diatribe has produced” (Bradbrook 81).
Ralegh, through his language and steady repetition in the last couplet of each stanza, referring to the Soul giving the lie, is able to impress upon the reader the importance of the truth of reality, or the life outside the cave, that we are never able to fully comprehend. Aristotle explains in his philosophy how there are two human attributes: accidens and ens. The accidens are the human attributes that are superficial, dealing with the color of our eyes or hair, attributes that have to do with the quality of our body, not the essence of it. The ens are the human attributes that are instilled in our persona, who we essentially are. The ens are not easily changed, for their being is much deeper and fundamental. Ralegh wishes us to live according to our ens, not basing our honor and favor upon instances of accidens, as he might have felt Elizabeth did with him.
Ralegh is obviously upset with the lie of a life we lead. And this fact is immediately obvious in the poem in its title, which possibly serves as another name for simple life. He feels as if we waste our lives (“age daily wasteth”) in this dark, unenlightened alter-reality. Having witnessed many instances of religious wars and instances of mass death, Ralegh may have come to realize that the church “shows/What’s good, and doth no good” (Ralegh 9-10). Having been sentenced to death for having done nothing wrong, he has experienced how law is futile, as expressed in the line: “Tell law it is contention” (Ralegh 52). Having been slighted by Queen Elizabeth, an assumed ally, he wishes to “[t]ell friendship of unkindness” and “[t]ell justice of delay” (Ralegh 58). Having seen cruel, heartless acts done by leaders in war as well as political leaders at home, Ralegh understood how “virtue least preferreth” for humans (Ralegh 70). For Ralegh there was no charity when he was hanged. There was no physic, or medicine, for his life sentence (Ralegh 49). For Ralegh, people, take for example Queen Elizabeth, lack true, inner beauty, possessing physical beauty until their flesh becomes but dust (44), nature decays (56), and beauty blasteth (39).
”The Lie” expresses a pessimistic theme, offering no light at the end of the tunnel, no escape from the chains we are all bound by in our own personal caves. However, reading this poem from a modern perspective, one may be encouraged to attempt to break free from these shackles as Ralegh naively assumed no one could do. Ralegh was scarred and tainted by his personal experiences. But, as a reader, someone removed from specific histories, one should attempt to give himself the lie, shedding the superficial, social constructions and restraints we place upon ourselves, and attempt to realize the truth, living life how it should be lived.
**Look closely at the background. Although at first a face, once looked at diagonally, the face actually spells the world "liar," exemplifying the fact that in life we are all liars, believing what we want to believe, living a false reality.