[20] From 'The Library,' by leave of the editor, and Messrs. Kegan
Paul, Trench, Trübner and Co.
When loaves are lacking it seems natural to attach a high value to
crumbs, and perhaps this may be accepted as an excuse for printing the
following rough notes on the few woodcuts which I have been able to find
in editions of English plays printed before 1660. An excuse is needed,
because, while the artistic value of the cuts is distinctly low, the
plays in which they are found, with the exception of Marlowe's 'Dr.
Faustus,' are not of the first interest. On the other hand, as I hope to
show, the woodcuts, as a rule, are not merely fancy pictures used only
because they looked pretty. They are real illustrations, drawn by men
who had certainly read the plays themselves, and in all probability had
seen them. To have had, say, the play-scene from 'Hamlet' drawn, however
rudely, as a title-cut by a contemporary artist would have been a very
pleasant addition to our scanty sources of knowledge as to the
appearance of the actors and the stage when Shakespeare's plays were
first acted, and, though it is less interesting plays which have come
down to us embellished with illustrated title-pages, we may as well take
note of what fortune has given us.
Two at least of the old morality plays, 'Every Man' and 'Hyckscorner,'
are prefaced with cuts, to some of which the names of the characters are
attached on labels, so that we may be sure of their identity.
Unfortunately most of these little figures are poor copies of those used
in a French translation of 'Terence,' published by Antoine Vérard. In
'Hyckscorner' Wynkyn de Worde went farther. To fill up a gap on his
title-page he inserts a picture of an elephant with a howdah on his
back. I have read 'Hyckscorner' once, ten years ago, and I hope never to
have to read it again. But if my memory serves me, there is nothing
about an elephant in it, and this particular elephant agrees so closely
with one used by John of Doesborgh to illustrate a tract about Prester
John's country that I am afraid he was one of Wynkyn de Worde's job
lots. Clearly these earliest cuts throw no light on the contemporary
stage.
The title-cut of 'The pleasant and stately morall of the Three Lordes
and Three Ladies of London,' printed by 'R. Ihones' in 1590, is of more
interest. If I am right in my interpretation of it, it relates not to
the play itself, but to a performance of any morality in a private hall.
On the right is a philosophical-looking person with a wand in his hand,
whom I take to be the 'Doctor' or 'Expositor,' who used to interpret to
the audience the meaning of the old miracle plays and moralities. On the
left is a man in ordinary dress of the sixteenth century, apparently an
actor. Both these are turning their faces to a group of ladies seated on
a dais, presumably as spectators. The picture is thus taken from the
rear of the actors, and illustrates, though in rather a dull and
conventional manner, the performances of a much earlier period than
1590. This is in keeping with the play itself, the 'statelie morall'
being a curious hybrid, half morality, half play, the publication of
which at a date when Shakespeare and Marlowe were already writing for
the stage was a curious anomaly.
[Illustration: FROM 'THE THREE LORDS AND THREE LADIES OF LONDON,' 1590.]
Three other sixteenth-century plays, Marlowe's 'Faustus,' Greene's
'Friar Bacon' and 'Hieronimo,' were issued with title-cuts, but not, I
believe, in the sixteenth century. The edition of 'The Tragicall History
of the Life and Death of Dr. Faustus. Written by Chr. Mar.,' which I
have found thus illustrated is that 'printed for John Wright, and to be
sold at his shop without Newgate at the sign of the Bible, 1616.'
Unfortunately the cut is larger than the page of text, and in the copies
both of this and of later editions, to which I have had access, has
been cropped by the binder's shears beyond any possibility of
reproduction. It shows Faustus, looking rather like some of the least
flattering portraits of Archbishop Laud, standing in a magic circle,
wand in hand, with the devil he has raised squatting before him on his
haunches like a ferocious black poodle.
As in the case of 'Dr. Faustus,' it is difficult to find an uncropped
copy of 'The Honorable Historie of Frier Bacon and Frier Bongay. As it
was lately plaid by the Prince Palatine his servants. Made by Robert
Greene, Master of Arts. (London, Printed by Elizabeth Allde dwelling
neere Christ-Church. 1630.)' In the copy accessible to me only about
three-fourths of the title-page have escaped the horrid shears; but this
suffices to show that we have here one of the few variations from the
dramatist's text of which these illustrators have to be accused. Bacon,
when weariness compels him to leave to his servant the task of watching
the Brazen Head, chides him for slowness in answering his call. 'Think
you,' is the answer, 'that the watching of the Brazen Head craves no
furniture? I warrant you, sir, I have so armed myself that if all your
devils do come I will not fear them an inch.' Unluckily the artist has
dressed the servant not as a fighter, but as a bandsman, with drum and a
kind of fife, and no visible arms. But the Brazen Head is there, and
Bacon very fast asleep, while the labels issuing from the Head's mouth,
'Time was,' 'Time is,' 'Time is Past,' show that the text of the play
had been read, though not very carefully.
The illustration to 'Hieronimo' here shown is taken from the edition
whose title runs: 'The Spanish Tragedie, containing the lamentable end
of Don Horatio and Belimperia: with the pittiful death of old
Hieronimo. (London, Printed by Augustine Mathewes, and are to bee sold
by Iohn Grismand at his shop in Pauls Alley.)' The original cut is very
'mealy' (a characteristic quite successfully reproduced in the
accompanying facsimile of it), and the design has not many artistic
merits; but in point of faithfulness it is probably all that could be
desired. It will be remembered that as Horatio and Belimperia are toying
in an arbour in Hieronimo's garden, the lady hears footsteps. 'Lorenzo,
Balthazar, Cerberim, and Pedringano enter, disguised.' Lorenzo, the
jealous brother, bids his minions 'Quickly despatch, my Masters,' and
according to the stage direction, 'they hang him in the Arbour' (_i.e._,
Horatio, not Lorenzo), and, despite Belimperia's entreaties, stab him to
death.
[Illustration: FROM THE 'SPANISH TRAGEDIE']
'Murder, murder, help, Hieronimo, help!' cries Belimperia, as in the
picture, and though at Lorenzo's bidding, 'Come stop her mouth; away
with her,' she is dragged off, the old man hears. The stage direction,
'Enter Hieronimo in his shirt,' has been interpreted liberally, for
Hieronimo has nether garments in addition; but he is duly coatless and
provided with a torch with which to see the 'murdrous spectacle.'
'_Hier._ What outcry calls me from my naked bed,
And chills my throbbing heart with trembling fear,
Which never danger yet could daunt before?
Who calls Hieronimo? speak, here I am.
I did not slumber; therefore 'twas no dream.
No, no; it was some woman cried for help.
And here within the garden did she cry,
And in this garden must I rescue her.
But stay, what murdrous spectacle is this?
A man hang'd up, and all the Murderers gone;
And in my Bower, to lay the guilt on me?
This place was made for pleasure, not for death:
[_He cuts him down._
These garments that he wears I oft have seen:
Alas, it is Horatio, my sweet son!'----
and so he makes his discovery and devotes himself henceforth to revenge.
The labels issuing from the actors' mouths show that the artist had
studied his text, and I cannot resist remarking on how admirably he has
caught the pose of the straw dummy, which must have been left hanging to
personate Horatio, in place of the actor, who had doubtless slipped
behind the arbour during the scuffle and was now resting after his
exertions.
Of plays first acted in the seventeenth century which have woodcuts, the
earliest is probably, 'If you know not me, you know nobodie: Or the
troubles of Queene Elizabeth. Printed for Nathaniel Butter, 1606.' To
render the 'me' emphatic there is a portrait of Queen Bess seated in a
chair of state, crowned, and with ball and sceptre in her hands. It is
carefully drawn and cut, and no doubt represents the 'make up' which the
actors followed. Seven years later the same publisher similarly
embellished another chronicle play, 'When you see me you know me, or the
famous Chronicle Historie of King Henrie the Eight, with the birth and
vertuous life of Edward Prince of Wales. As it was played by the high
and mightie Prince of Wales his servants. By Samuel Rowly, servant to
the Prince. (At London, Printed for Nathaniel Butter, and are to be sold
at his shop in Paules churchyard near S. Austines Gate. 1613.)' In the
cut Henry VIII., in his familiar attitude, is standing enveloped in
curtains, rather like a stage manager who has come to the 'front' to
address the audience.
But for our purpose kings and queens copied from familiar portraits are
less important than persons of a much humbler rank, and more interesting
than either of the two illustrations just described is that of the
heroine from 'The Roaring Girls or Moll Cut-Purse. As it hath lately
beene acted on the Fortune Stage by the Prince his Players. Written by
G. Middleton and P. Dekkar. (Printed at London for Thomas Archer.
1611.)' Moll Cut-Purse was a real person, of whom, as Mary Frith, a
judicial account from the pen of Mr. A. H. Bullen will be found in the
'Dictionary of National Biography.' In the play she frightens a father
into allowing his son to marry another Mary by persuading him that it is
she herself of whom the young man is enamoured. She is credited with
'the spirit of foure great parishes and a voyce that will drown all the
citty,' but the cowardly Laxton, whom she fights, mistakes her in her
male attire for a young barrister, and perhaps the Temple produced many
rufflers not unlike the figure here shown. Mary Frith herself seems to
have had few good qualities, but Moll in the play is an amiable giant,
and her promise to her servant of the reversion of her man's clothes
'next week' was probably made in order to persuade the spectators that
this masquerading was only an isolated freak.
[Illustration: MOLL CUT-PURSE]
[Illustration: GREENE'S 'TU QUOQUE']
No less interesting than this, and artistically the best picture we have
to show, is the title-cut of 'Greene's Tu Quoque or the Cittie Gallant,
as it hath beene divers times acted by the Queenes Maiesties servants.
Written by Jo. Cooke, Gent. (Printed at London for John Trundle. 1614.)'
Originally known as 'The Cittie Gallant,' this play was renamed after
Thomas Green, the actor who so successfully personated 'Bubble,' to
whom the 'Tu Quoque' quip is assigned.
Bubble is the type of the foolish young gentleman who wants to know 'the
lowest price of being italianated.' No doubt this excellent cut is a
portrait of Green in the part as he enters 'gallanted,' and exclaims:
'How apparel makes a man respected, the very children in the streets do
adore me; for if a boy that is throwing at his jackalent chance to hit
me on the shins, why I say nothing but _Tu quoque_, smile and forgive
the child with a beck of my hand or some such like token: so by that
means I do seldom go without broken shins.'
[Illustration: FROM 'THE MAIDS TRAGEDIE']
In contrast to these portraits of single characters is the title-cut of
'The Maids Tragedie, as it hath beene diuers times acted at the
Black-Friers by the Kings Maiesties Seruants. Newly perused, augmented
and inlarged, this second Impression. (London, Printed for Francis
Constable, and are to be sold at the White Lion in Pauls Church-yard,
1622.)' Here we have depicted the chief incident of the play, the fight
which Aspatia, in man's clothes, forces upon Amintor in order to end her
life at his hand. The drawing is a little rude, but, as will be seen
from the following quotation, the attitude of Aspatia is strictly in
accordance with the text.
'_Aspatia._ You must be urged, I do not deal uncivilly
With those that dare to fight, but such as you
Must be used thus. [_She strikes him._
_Amintor._ I prithee, youth, take heed.
Thy sister is a thing to me so much
Above mine honour that I can endure
All this--good gods!--a blow I can endure,
But stay not, lest thou draw a timeless death
Upon thy self.
_Aspatia._ Thou art some prating fellow,
One that has studied out a trick to talk
And move soft-hearted people; to be kickt, [_She kicks him._
Thus to be kickt--[_aside_] Why should he be so slow
In giving me my death?
_Amintor._ A man can bear
No more and keep his flesh. Forgive me then,
I would endure yet, if I could. Now show
The spirit thou pretendest, and understand
Thou hast no hour to live. [_They fight._
What dost thou mean? Thou canst not fight.
The blows thou mak'st at me are quite besides,
And those I offer at thee, thou spread'st thine arms
And tak'st upon thy breast, alas, defenceless!
_Aspatia._ I have got enough,
And my desire. There is no place so fit
For me to die as here.'
The fight, it will be observed, is akin to that between David Balfour
and Alan Breck in Stevenson's 'Kidnapped,' but here the spectators' pity
is more keenly worked on by the inexpert challenger being a woman and
by the more tragical termination of the combat. As for the artist, no
doubt he did his best.
In Beaumont and Fletcher's 'A King and No King,' printed by T. Walkley
in 1619, the title-page shows a well-drawn figure of a man, above whose
head, half on, half off it, a crown is held by an arm from the sky. In
'Swetnam the Woman-hater, arraigned by women,' printed for Richard
Meighen the next year, a fairly good cut, which I regret to have
remembered too late to have reproduced, exhibits Swetnam formally tried
at bar, before a judge and jury of women.
[Illustration: THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST]
Our next picture is from 'The Fair Maid of the West, or, a Girle Worth
Gold. The first part. As it was lately acted before the King and Queen,
with approved liking, by the Queens Majesties Comedians. Written by T.
H. (London, Printed for Richard Royston, and are to be sold at his Shop
in Ivie Lane. 1631.)' The cut, of course, represents the 'girl worth
gold,' and leaves one wondering whether the man who took the part was
really able to screw his waist to the fashionable limit here shown.
In 'The Iron Age: Contayning the Rape of Hellen: The siege of Troy: The
Combate betwixt Hector and Aiax: Hector and Troilus slayne by Achilles:
Achilles slaine by Paris: Aiax and Vlisses contend for the Armour of
Achilles: The Death of Aiax, etc. Written by Thomas Heywood,' we have a
very pictorial title-page, which duly answers to the stage direction:
'Alarum. In this combat, both having lost their swords and shields,
Hector takes up a great piece of a rock and casts at Aiax, who tears a
young tree up by the roots, and assails Hector; at which they are parted
by both armies.'
In 'The Second Part' (N. Okes, 1632) the title-cut shows Troy in flames,
the Greeks issuing from the wooden horse, and in the foreground Sinon
and Thersites engaged in a most conventional stage dialogue. The actual
greeting of these heroes is in contrast with the earnest mien the artist
has given them; for Thersites hails Sinon as 'My Urchin,' and Sinon
hails Thersites as 'My Toad.' But these epithets had no doubt a hidden
meaning.
Our next illustration is from 'The Foure Prentises of London, With the
Conquest of Jerusalem. As it hath beene diuers times acted at the
Red-Bull, by the Queene's Maiestie's Seruants with good applause.
Written and newly reuised by Thomas Heywood. (Printed at London by
Nicholas Okes, 1632.)'
On the whole, I am inclined to think that the picture merely represents
the jovial dance of the apprentices, either when their labours are over,
or when, after the proclamation for the Crusades, they hold this
colloquy:
'_Eustace._ Ran, tan, tan.
Now by S. George he tells us gallant newes.
I'll home no more. I'll run away to-night.
_Guy._ If I cast bowl, or spoon, or salt again,
Before I have beheld Jerusalem
Let me turn Pagan.
_Charles._ Hats and caps, adieu;
For I must leave you, if the Drum say true.
_Godfrey._ Nay, then, have with you, brothers! for my spirit
With as much vigour hath burst forth as thine,
And can as hardly be restrain'd as yours.
Give me your hands. I will consort you too:
Let's try what London Prentices can do!
_Eustace._ For my Trades sake, if good success I have
The grocers arms shall in my ensign wave.
_Guy._ And if my valour bring me to command
The Goldsmiths' arms shall in my colours stand.
_Godfrey._ So of us all. Then let us in one fleet
Launch all together.'
These are brave words, and the coats of arms hung over the 'prentices'
heads are in accordance with them. But there is a stage direction later
on in the play: 'Alarum. The four brethren each of them kill a Pagan
king, take off their crowns and exeunt, two one way and two another
way'; and I cannot but regret that the artist did not choose this as the
subject of his cut.
[Illustration: THE FOUR PRENTISES OF LONDON]
In 1655 'The Merry Devil of Edmonton' appeared from the press of D.
Gilbertson with a title-cut showing Banks and his famous horse on a
platform. Our last illustration is taken, not from this, but from
another Edmonton play, 'The Witch of Edmonton, a known true story.
Composed into a tragi-comedy by divers well-esteemed Poets; William
Rowley, Thomas Dekker, John Ford, etc. Acted by the Princes Servants,
often at the Cock-Pit in Drury-Lane, once at Court, with singular
Applause. Never printed till now. (London, Printed by J. Cottrel, for
Edward Blackmore, at the Angel in Paul's Churchyard. 1658.)'
[Illustration: FROM 'THE WITCH OF EDMONTON']
The illustration in this case is a composite one, referring to three
different moments in the play. Mother Sawyer is found by the dog--said
dog, of course, being 'a Familiar'--cursing 'that curmudgeon Banks,'
the 'clown' of the piece, who, with three of his companions, has been
abusing her. A long speech of imprecation ends with the effective line:
'Vengeance, shame, ruin, light upon that Canker,'
and it is then that there appears the stage direction, 'Enter Dog,' his
opening remark being the 'Ho! have I found thee cursing? now thou art
mine own,' of which part is shown on the label. The dog subsequently
explains that it is only when he finds people cursing that he can obtain
powers over them of life and death, but before owning to this limitation
he has rather unfairly got the old woman to seal the usual covenant with
her blood, and instructed her in the art of making herself unpleasant.
'I'll tell thee, when thou wishest ill;
Corn, Man or Beast, would spoyl or kill,
Turn thy back against the Sun,
And mumble this short Orison:
_If thou to death or shame pursue 'em
Sanctibicetur nomen tuum.'_
In a subsequent scene the Spirit takes the form of Katherine Carter,
with whom Cuddy Banks is in love. On her appearing to him he remarks
that he will teach her to walk so late! The teaching, however, was not
on his side. She trips before him, and his exclamation as he quits the
stage, 'Nay, by your leave I must embrace you,' is speedily followed by
that quoted in the cut, 'Oh help, help, I am drown'd. I am drown'd.' The
stage direction hereupon is 'Enter Wet,' and the dog, after four
diabolic 'ha ha's,' bids him 'Take heed how thou trustest the Devil
another time!' The tumbling into the water, it will be observed, like
the murder of her children by Medea, was enacted behind the stage,
probably because on the stage there was no means of simulating water to
tumble into. In this case, therefore, the artist, a very rude one, it
must be confessed, not only brought three scenes together, but depicted
one which the audience could not have witnessed.
Our subject has been limited to woodcuts in old plays, but it should be
noted that both the undated editions of Middleton's 'Game of Chess' have
engraved title-pages of some merit. As for our woodcuts, I have tried to
resist the temptation to claim for them more than they deserve. One or
two of them are really good, several others at least interesting, a few,
like that at which we have just been looking, poor stuff enough. But
they are connected with the greatest period of the English drama, and it
has been worth while to collect these notes, if only to show that this
is the best that English artists could do, or English publishers had the
enterprise to commission them to do, when they were confronted with so
unique an opportunity.