To you, you rare commander of the quill,
Whose wit and worth, deep learning, and high skill,
Speak you the honour of Great Tower Hill!
The last line became traditionally adopted by those who were so lucky as
to live in the neighbourhood of this Parnassus. But the reader must form
some notion of that charm of caligraphy which has so bewitched its
professors, when,
Soft, bold, and free, your manuscripts still please.
How justly bold in SNELL'S improving hand
The pen at once joins freedom with command!
With softness strong, with ornaments not vain,
Loose with proportion, and with neatness plain;
Not swell'd, not full, complete in every part,
And artful most, when not affecting art.
And these describe those pencilled knots and flourishes, "the angels,
the men, the birds, and the beasts," which, as one of them observed, he
could
Command
Even by the _gentle motion of his hand_,
all the _speciosa miracula_ of caligraphy;
Thy _tender strokes_, inimitably fine,
Crown with perfection every _flowing line_;
And to each _grand performance_ add a grace,
As _curling hair_ adorns a beauteous face:
In every page _new fancies_ give delight,
And _sporting round the margin_ charm the sight.
One Massey, a writing-master, published in 1763, "The Origin and
Progress of Letters." The great singularity of this volume is "a new
species of biography never attempted before in English." This consists
of the lives of "English Penmen," otherwise writing-masters! If some
have foolishly enough imagined that the sedentary lives of authors are
void of interest from deficient incident and interesting catastrophe,
what must they think of the barren labours of those who, in the degree
they become eminent, to use their own style, in the art of "dish, dash,
long-tail fly," the less they become interesting to the public; for what
can the most skilful writing-master do but wear away his life in leaning
over his pupil's copy, or sometimes snatch a pen to decorate the margin,
though he cannot compose the page? Montaigne has a very original notion
on writing-masters: he says that some of those caligraphers who had
obtained promotion by their excellence in the art, afterwards _affected
to write carelessly, lest their promotion should be suspected to have
been owing to such an ordinary acquisition_!
Massey is an enthusiast, fortunately for his subject. He considers that
there are _schools of writing_, as well as of painting or sculpture; and
expatiates with the eye of fraternal feeling on "a natural genius, a
tender stroke, a grand performance, a bold striking freedom, and a
liveliness in the sprigged letters, and pencilled knots and flourishes;"
while this Vasari of writing-masters relates the controversies and the
libels of many a rival pen-nibber. "George Shelley, one of the most
celebrated worthies who have made a shining figure in the commonwealth
of English caligraphy, born I suppose of obscure parents, because
brought up in Christ's Hospital, yet under the humble blue-coat he laid
the foundation of his caligraphic excellence and lasting fame, for he
was elected writing-master to the hospital." Shelley published his
"Natural Writing;" but, alas! Snell, another blue-coat, transcended the
other. He was a genius who would "bear no brother near the throne."--"I
have been informed that there were jealous heart-burnings, if not
bickerings, between him and Col. Ayres, another of our _great reformers_
in the writing commonweal, both eminent men, yet, _like_ our most
celebrated poets _Pope and Addison_, or, to carry the comparison still
higher, like _Caesar and Pompey_, one could bear no superior, and the
other no equal." Indeed, the great Snell practised a little stratagem
against Mr. Shelley, for which, if writing-masters held courts-martial,
this hero ought to have appeared before his brothers. In one of his
works he procured a number of friends to write letters, in which Massey
confesses "are some satyrical strokes upon Shelley," as if he had
arrogated too much to himself in his book of "Natural Writing." They
find great fault with pencilled knots and sprigged letters. Shelley, who
was an advocate for ornaments in fine penmanship, which Snell utterly
rejected, had parodied a well-known line of Herbert's in favour of his
favourite decorations:--
A _Knot_ may take him who from _letters_ flies,
And turn _delight_ into an _exercise_.
These reflections created ill-blood, and even an open difference amongst
several of the _superior artists in writing_. The commanding genius of
Snell had a more terrific contest when he published his "Standard
Rules," pretending to have _demonstrated_ them as Euclid would. "This
proved a bone of contention, and occasioned a terrific quarrel between
Mr. Snell and Mr. Clark. This quarrel about 'Standard Rules' ran so
high between them, that they could scarce forbear _scurrilous language_
therein, and a treatment of each other unbecoming _gentlemen_! Both
sides in this dispute had their abettors; and to say which had the most
truth and reason, _non nostrum est tantas componere lites_; perhaps
_both parties might be too fond of their own schemes_. They should have
left them to people to choose which they liked best." A candid
politician is our Massey, and a philosophical historian too; for he
winds up the whole story of this civil war by describing its result,
which happened as all such great controversies have ever closed. "Who
now-a-days takes those _Standard Rules_, either one or the other, for
their _guide_ in writing?" This is the finest lesson ever offered to the
furious heads of parties, and to all their men; let them meditate on the
nothingness of their "Standard Rules," by the fate of Mr. Snell.
It was to be expected, when once these writing-masters imagined that
they were artists, that they would be infected with those plague-spots
of genius--envy, detraction, and all the _jalousie du metier_. And such
to this hour we find them! An extraordinary scene of this nature has
long been exhibited in my neighbourhood, where two doughty champions of
the quill have been posting up libels in their windows respecting the
inventor of _a new art of writing_, the Carstairian, or the Lewisian?
When the great German philosopher asserted that he had discovered the
method of fluxions before Sir Isaac, and when the dispute grew so
violent that even the calm Newton sent a formal defiance in set terms,
and got even George the Second to try to arbitrate (who would rather
have undertaken a campaign), the method of fluxions was no more cleared
up than the present affair between our two heroes of the quill.
A recent instance of one of these egregious caligraphers may be told of
the late Tomkins. This vainest of writing-masters dreamed through life
that penmanship was one of the fine arts, and that a writing-master
should be seated with his peers in the Academy! He bequeathed to the
British Museum his _opus magnum_--a copy of Macklin's Bible, profusely
embellished with the most beautiful and varied decorations of his pen;
and as he conceived that both the workman and the work would alike be
darling objects with posterity, he left something immortal with the
legacy, his fine bust, by Chantrey, unaccompanied by which they were
not to receive the unparalleled gift! When Tomkins applied to have his
bust, our great sculptor abated the usual price, and, courteously kind
to the feelings of the man, said that he considered Tomkins as an
artist! It was the proudest day of the life of our writing-master!
But an eminent artist and wit now living, once looking on this fine bust
of Tomkins, declared, that "this man had died for want of a dinner!"--a
fate, however, not so lamentable as it appeared! Our penman had long
felt that he stood degraded in the scale of genius by not being received
at the Academy, at least among the class of _engravers_; the next
approach to academic honour he conceived would be that of appearing as a
_guest_ at their annual dinner. These invitations are as limited as they
are select, and all the Academy persisted in considering Tomkins _as a
writing-master_! Many a year passed, every intrigue was practised, every
remonstrance was urged, every stratagem of courtesy was tried; but never
ceasing to deplore the failure of his hopes, it preyed on his spirits,
and the luckless caligrapher went down to his grave--without dining at
the Academy! This authentic anecdote has been considered as "satire
improperly directed"--by some friend of Mr. Tomkins--but the criticism
is much too grave! The foible of Mr. Tomkins as a writing-master
presents a striking illustration of the class of men here delineated. I
am a mere historian--and am only responsible for the veracity of this
fact. That "Mr. Tomkins lived in familiar intercourse with the Royal
Academicians of his day, and was a frequent guest at their private
tables," and moreover was a most worthy man, I believe--but is it less
true that he was ridiculously mortified by being never invited to the
Academic dinner, on account of his caligraphy? He had some reason to
consider that his art was of the exalted class to which he aspired to
raise it, when this friend concludes his eulogy of this writing-master
thus--"Mr. Tomkins, as an artist, stood foremost in his own profession,
and his name will be handed down to posterity with the _Heroes_ and
_Statesmen_, whose excellences his _penmanship_ has contributed to
illustrate and to commemorate." I always give the _Pour_ and the
_Contre_!
Such men about such things have produced public contests, _combats a
l'outrance_, where much ink was spilled by the knights in a joust of
goose-quills; these solemn trials have often occurred in the history of
writing-masters, which is enlivened by public defiances, proclamations,
and judicial trials by umpires! The prize was usually a golden pen of
some value. One as late as in the reign of Anne took place between Mr.
German and Mr. More. German having courteously insisted that Mr. More
should set the copy, he thus set it, ingeniously quaint!
As more, and MORE, our understanding clears,
So more and more our ignorance appears.
The result of this pen-combat was really lamentable; they displayed such
an equality of excellence that the umpires refused to decide, till one
of them espied that Mr. German had omitted the tittle of an i! But Mr.
More was evidently a man of genius, not only by his couplet, but in his
"Essay on the Invention of Writing," where occurs this noble passage:
"Art with me is of no party. A noble emulation I would cherish, while it
proceeded neither from, nor to malevolence. Bales had his Johnson,
Norman his Mason, Ayres his Matlock and his Shelley; yet Art the while
was no sufferer. The busybody who officiously employs himself in
creating misunderstandings between artists, may be compared to a
turn-stile, which stands in every man's way, yet hinders nobody; and he
is the slanderer who gives ear to the slander."[109]
Among these knights of the "Plume volante," whose chivalric exploits
astounded the beholders, must be distinguished Peter Bales in his joust
with David Johnson. In this tilting-match the guerdon of caligraphy was
won by the greatest of caligraphers; its _arms_ were assumed by the
victor, _azure, a pen or_; while the "golden pen," carried away in
triumph, was painted with a hand over the door of the caligrapher. The
history of this renowned encounter was only traditionally known, till
with my own eyes I pondered on this whole trial of skill in the precious
manuscript of the champion himself; who, like Caesar, not only knew how
to win victories, but also to record them. Peter Bales was a hero of
such transcendent eminence, that his name has entered into our history.
Holinshed chronicles one of his curiosities of microscopic writing at a
time when the taste prevailed for admiring writing which no eye could
read! In the compass of a silver penny this caligrapher put more things
than would fill several of these pages. He presented Queen Elizabeth
with the manuscript set in a ring of gold covered with a crystal; he had
also contrived a magnifying glass of such power, that, to her delight
and wonder, her majesty read the whole volume, which she held on her
thumb-nail, and "commended the same to the lords of the council and the
ambassadors;" and frequently, as Peter often heard, did her majesty
vouchsafe to wear this caligraphic ring.[110]
"Some will think I labour on a cobweb"--modestly exclaimed Bales in his
narrative, and his present historian much fears for himself! The
reader's gratitude will not be proportioned to my pains, in condensing
such copious pages into the size of a "silver penny," but without its
worth!
For a whole year had David Johnson affixed a challenge "To any one who
should take exceptions to this my writing and teaching." He was a young
friend of Bales, daring and longing for an encounter; yet Bales was
magnanimously silent, till he discovered that he was "doing much less in
writing and teaching" since this public challenge was proclaimed! He
then set up his counter-challenge, and in one hour afterwards Johnson
arrogantly accepted it, "in a most despiteful and disgraceful manner."
Bales's challenge was delivered "in good terms." "To all Englishmen and
strangers." It was to write for a gold pen of twenty pounds value in all
kinds of hands, "best, straightest, and fastest," and most kind of ways;
"a full, a mean, a small, with line, and without line; in a slow set
hand, a mean facile hand, and a fast running hand;" and further, "to
write truest and speediest, most secretary and clerk-like, from a man's
mouth, reading or pronouncing, either English or Latin."
Young Johnson had the hardihood now of turning the tables on his great
antagonist, accusing the veteran Bales of arrogance. Such an absolute
challenge, says he, was never witnessed by man, "without exception of
any in the world!" And a few days after meeting Bales, "of set purpose
to affront and disgrace him what he could, showed Bales a piece of
writing of secretary's hand, which he had very much laboured in fine
abortive parchment,"[111] uttering to the challenger these words: "Mr.
Bales, give me one shilling out of your purse, and if within six months
you better, or equal this piece of writing, I will give you forty pounds
for it." This legal deposit of the shilling was made, and the
challenger, or appellant, was thereby bound by law to the performance.
The day before the trial a printed declaration was affixed throughout
the city, taunting Bales's "proud poverty," and his pecuniary motives,
as "a thing ungentle, base, and mercenary, and not answerable to the
dignity of the golden pen!" Johnson declares he would maintain his
challenge for a thousand pounds more, but for the respondent's inability
to perform a thousand groats. Bales retorts on the libel; declares it as
a sign of his rival's weakness, "yet who so bold as blind Bayard, that
hath not a word of Latin to cast at a dog, or say Bo! to a goose!"
On Michaelmas day, 1595, the trial opened before five judges: the
appellant and the respondent appeared at the appointed place, and an
ancient gentleman was intrusted with "the golden pen." In the first
trial, for the manner of teaching scholars, after Johnson had taught his
pupil a fortnight, he would not bring him forward! This was awarded in
favour of Bales.
The second, for secretary and clerk-like writing, dictating to them both
in English and in Latin, Bales performed best, being first done; written
straightest without line, with true orthography: the challenger himself
confessing that he wanted the Latin tongue, and was no clerk!
The third and last trial for fair writing in sundry kinds of hands, the
challenger prevailed for the beauty and most "authentic proportion," and
for the superior variety of the Roman hand. In the court hand the
respondent exceeded the appellant, and likewise in the set text; and in
bastard secretary was also somewhat perfecter.
At length Bales, perhaps perceiving an equilibrium in the judicial
decision, to overwhelm his antagonist presented what he distinguishes as
his "masterpiece," composed of secretary and Roman hand four ways
varied, and offering the defendant to let pass all his previous
advantages if he could better this specimen of caligraphy! The
challenger was silent! At this moment some of the judges perceiving that
the decision must go in favour of Bales, in consideration of the youth
of the challenger, lest he might be disgraced to the world, requested
the other judges not to pass judgment in public. Bales assures us, that
he in vain remonstrated; for by these means the winning of the golden
pen might not be so famously spread as otherwise it would have been. To
Bales the prize was awarded. But our history has a more interesting
close; the subtle Machiavelism of the first challenger!
When the great trial had closed, and Bales, carrying off the golden pen,
exultingly had it painted and set up for his sign, the baffled
challenger went about reporting that _he_ had _won_ the golden pen, but
that the defendant had obtained the same by "plots and shifts, and other
base and cunning practices." Bales vindicated his claim, and offered to
show the world his "masterpiece" which had acquired it. Johnson issued
an "Appeal to all Impartial Penmen," which he spread in great numbers
through the city for ten days, a libel against the judges and the
victorious defendant! He declared that there had been a subtle
combination with one of the judges concerning the place of trial; which
he expected to have been "before penmen," but not before a multitude
like a stage-play, and shouts and tumults, with which the challenger had
hitherto been unacquainted. The judges were intended to be twelve; but
of the five, four were the challenger's friends, honest gentlemen, but
unskilled in judging of most hands; and he offered again forty pounds to
be allowed in six months to equal Bales's masterpiece. And he closes his
"appeal" by declaring that Bales had lost in several parts of the trial,
neither did the judges deny that Bales possessed himself of the golden
pen by a trick! Before judgment was awarded, alleging the sickness of
his wife to be extreme, he desired she might have _a sight of the golden
pen to comfort her_! The ancient gentleman who was the holder, taking
the defendant's word, allowed the golden pen to be carried to the sick
wife; and Bales immediately pawned it, and afterwards, to make sure
work, sold it at a great loss, so that when the judges met for their
definite sentence, nor pen nor pennyworth was to be had! The judges
being ashamed of their own conduct, were compelled to give such a
verdict as suited the occasion.
Bales rejoins: he publishes to the universe the day and the hour when
the judges brought the golden pen to his house, and while he checks the
insolence of this Bobadil, to show himself no recreant, assumes the
golden pen for his sign.
Such is the shortest history I could contrive of this chivalry of the
pen; something mysteriously clouds over the fate of the defendant;
Bales's history, like Caesar's, is but an _ex-parte_ evidence. Who can
tell whether he has not slurred over his defeats, and only dwelt on his
victories?
There is a strange phrase connected with the art of the caligrapher,
which I think may be found in most, if not in all modern languages, _to
write like an angel_! Ladies have been frequently compared with angels;
they are _beautiful_ as angels, and _sing_ and _dance_ like angels; but,
however intelligible these are, we do not so easily connect penmanship
with the other celestial accomplishments. This fanciful phrase, however,
has a very human origin. Among those learned Greeks who emigrated to
Italy, and afterwards into France, in the reign of Francis I., was one
Angelo _Vergecio_, whose beautiful caligraphy excited the admiration of
the learned. The French monarch had a Greek fount cast, modelled by his
writing. The learned Henry Stephens, who, like our Porson for
correctness and delicacy, was one of the most elegant writers of Greek,
had learnt the practice from our _Angelo_. His name became synonymous
for beautiful writing, and gave birth to the vulgar proverb or familiar
phrase _to write like an angel_!