year it developed, a joy apart from the strains of the miserable time.
It was a year quite black enough to colour all poor grumbling Greene’s
bitter spite against the “Johannes Factotum,” who could both act and
redact plays; a year gloomy enough to tone the picture of the reverse
poem which came insistently into Shakespeare’s brain to complete
his “Venus” conception. For he began to take two sides to paint his
pictures even then, as he always afterwards did.
Another separation had taken place. In the autumn of 1592 Southampton
was in the Queen’s train at Oxford, acknowledged by all to be
the brightest ornament of her Court. Probably by the end of 1592
Shakespeare sent him the completed manuscript of his poem, with the
private dedication of the 26th Sonnet, before he began to arrange about
the publication of his “written ambassage,” bidding him keep it
Till whatsoever star that guides my moving
Points on me graciously with fair aspect,
And _puts apparel on my tattered loving_
To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:--S. 26.
that is by having it printed and bound.[38] By 18th April 1593 the
Archbishop of Canterbury had licensed it, and Richard Field had
entered it as his copy in the Stationers’ Registers. A more timid
prose dedication faced the critical world. The poet would not shame
his friend, nor commit him to anything, until he knew how the public
would receive him. Then came a surprise doubtless to both of them,
and certainly to others. Adonis leaped at once into popularity! I
noted that before he had completed _his first Essay of a Prentice in
the Divine Art of Poesy_, Shakespeare had sketched the outline of the
“graver labour,” alluded to in the Preface to his “Venus and Adonis.”
Some of the later Sonnets seem to be studies for _Tarquin_, as some of
the earlier had been studies for _Adonis_. It is worth considering
Sonnet 129 in this light.
The Sonnets had been affected by the appearance of “Astrophel and
Stella” in 1591, and the author was probably incited by the appearance
of Daniel’s “Delia” and Constable’s “Diana” in 1592 to new variations.
After Southampton’s return to London he seems to have become interested
in other poets, and to have spent some of the hours hitherto devoted
to Shakespeare with other literary acquaintances. Thence sprang the
allusions to the “alien pens” (S. 87), the “better spirit” (S. 80),
the “proud full sail of his great verse.” Doubtless the chief rival
was Chapman, who even then was doing worthy work. But he has left no
notice of the Earl of Southampton until much later years. Evidently the
young Earl, moved by his poet’s suffering, had granted that he “_was_
married to his muse,” and had refused to become the special patron
of other _poets_. Indeed, he had shown a fit of answering jealousy,
alluded to in Sonnet 109. But all frictions were smoothed away, and
the happy friend and triumphant poet was able to redeem his promise
and to publish his “graver labour” in May 1594, expressing his love to
his patron in nearly the same terms as he had used in Sonnet 26. His
“Lucrece” assured his position in the literary world and cleared his
character in the eyes of sober men.
I have said that I do not think the order of the sonnets correct, that
the love-sonnets should have been interleaved with the others, that
they had not been sent, and that they did not mean so much as they
seemed to import. Nevertheless, it seems evident that in the plague
year, with all its depressing influences, in the absence of his friend,
Shakespeare himself had been tempted by a dark-eyed witch, a married
woman, experienced in coquettish wiles. We do not _know_ who the lady
was. I do not think she was a _lady_ at all in the Court sense of
the word. Many coincidences support my opinion that she was a rich
citizen’s wife (some of these had been educated by wealthy fathers to
the level of the culture of the time in art and music); a citizen’s
wife who had been married just long enough to feel a sense of ennui
creep into her leisurely life, and a desire for new conquests to awake
in her vain heart. Such a one he might have met in the very house he
must most have frequented. I do not _know_ anything about the moral
principles of Mrs. Jacquinetta Field, and do not wish to bring my views
as a personal _charge_ against her. But she fulfilled all the necessary
external conditions, and she was a Frenchwoman, therefore likely to
have dark eyes, a sallow complexion, and that indefinable _charm_
so much alluded to. Such a woman might very well have ignored young
Shakespeare when he first came, poor and unknown, about her husband’s
house, But when she found him popular and making his way among the
aristocracy she might suddenly have become interested in him, and
tried to attract him. Other men’s sonnets had taught her how to act.
She tuned her sweetest music to his tastes, and played remorselessly
upon her poet’s heart. After the publication of “Venus and Adonis” by
Richard Field, she might achieve her desire of meeting Shakespeare’s
Earl. She entangled him for a short time in a game of bagatelle, in
order to torture her victim, though it really seems to have cured him.
And _then_, it was all over, there was no treachery, no cruelty, it
was all a mistake, _a comedy of errors_. The echo of the explanations
ring through Shakespeare’s plays, as well as through his sonnets. A
strange outside reflection of this little domestic drama seems clearly
intended in “Willobie’s Avisa,” registered on 3rd September 1594, in
which Shakespeare’s “Lucrece” is definitely mentioned, and H. W. and
W. S. alluded to, under conditions that strongly suggest the story of
the Sonnets. It shows the picture of a wonderfully admired woman of
incorruptible chastity, beset by many wooers, these two among them.
“W. S. determined to see whether it would sort to a happier end for
this new actor, H. W., then it did for the old player.” Many strange
parallels between the book and the sonnets might be noted, and I have a
shrewd suspicion that the dark lady herself was a moving spirit in its
publication. Personalities were evidently intended and resented, and
the book was “called in.” But the pain of the publication rankled in
Shakespeare’s heart:
’Tis better to be vile, than vile esteemed.--S. 121.
In the same month as Shakespeare brought out his “Lucrece,” the
Countess of Southampton married Sir Thomas Heneage, a trusted friend of
the Queen’s, and Vice-Chamberlain of the Royal Household. Henceforth
Court patronage was opened to Shakespeare, and during the following
Christmas holidays, for the first time, his name was entered in the
accounts of the Privy Chamber, as having played before the Queen at
Greenwich. Curiously enough, on the evening of the same day, his
company is recorded to have appeared suddenly amid the confusion of the
Gray’s Inn Revels, and to have performed “The Comedy of Errors” on the
stage designed for graver concerts. This led to great trouble in Gray’s
Inn, and mysterious investigations, in which an enchanter was blamed.
Nobody asked _who paid the players_? I have always fancied Southampton
did, and that _he_ introduced them, for how, without the permission of
some fellow of Gray’s Inn, could they have had access to the stage.[39]
Bacon was employed to write a device to “restore the honour of Gray’s
Inn,” lost on The Night of Errors.
In two ways, both painful to the poet, during the following year, while
Sir Thomas Heneage’s illness absorbed the attention of the Countess of
Southampton, his young friend’s name had become bandied about among
the gossiping cliques of Paul’s Walk. His friends, Sir Charles and
Henry Danvers, instigated by personal revenge, for some cause unknown,
had, in January 1594-5, taken their servants and gone out deliberately
to murder two men, the Longs, which they had succeeded in doing.
They stalled their horses in Southampton’s stables at Tichfield that
night, and when they went to London next day he rode with them and
helped them to escape to France. It is very difficult to understand
the meaning of this episode in his life, for the Danvers remained his
friends. The other was more natural. Southampton, “having passed by the
ambush of young days,” at last fell incurably in love with the fair
Mistress Elizabeth Vernon (the daughter of Sir John Vernon), cousin
of the Earl of Essex, and Maid of Honour to the Queen. He needed no
sonnets now to urge him to marry, but the Queen forbade the banns.
He hovered round the Court, the “Sydney Papers” state that he was,
in the absence of Essex, “a careful waiter here, and _sede vacanto_
doth receive favours at her Majesty’s hands, all this without breach
of amity between them.” But it was the _other Elizabeth_ who drew him
thither. Hasty and impulsive as he was, “My Lord Southampton doth with
too much familiarity court the fair Mistress Vernon, while his friends,
observing the Queen’s humour towards my Lord of Essex, do what they
can to bring her to favour him, but it is yet in vain,” wrote Rowland
Whyte, 22nd September 1595.
This gossip sunk into Shakespeare’s heart. He knew that he might be
blamed by some, as the Earl’s adviser, and he called him to task in
Sonnets 95 and 96. After the commencement of this absorbing passion
the sonnets gradually ceased. Probably Shakespeare realized that his
reign was over. None seem to suggest Southampton’s voyages, knighthood,
marriage, or subsequent imprisonment. For the allusions in Sonnet 107
must not be confused with this.
Having interwoven many of the phrases, ideas, and even situations of
the sonnets into his plays, having _thrown in_ even some of the verses
entire, Shakespeare’s fame became fixed in 1598 by the liberal praise
of Francis Meres, Professor of Rhetoric at Oxford, who noted not only
the plays and the poems, but “the sugred sonnets among his private
friends.”
By some means, pirate Jaggard got possession of two of these private
sonnets, culled those already printed in the plays, stole many verses
from other writers, among them the “Paris to Helen” and “Helen
to Paris” of Thomas Heywood, and published them in 1599 as “‘The
Passionate Pilgrim,’ by William Shakespeare,” eager to exploit the
value of his name.
To reclaim his own, Heywood published them, as he had intended, in
his “Troia Britannica,” registered before 1609. Apparently Jaggard
published a second edition, probably in 1609. In the postscript of his
“Apology for Actors,” 1612, Heywood complained of Jaggard’s “manifest
injury,” and stated that the reputed author was much offended with the
publisher for “having altogether unknown to him, presumed to make so
bold with his name.”
This is interesting to us, because it is the only recorded notice of
Shakespeare’s opinion of his publishers. Indeed it is just possible
that Shakespeare permitted, if he did not suggest, the publication of
his Sonnets, in order, by showing all that he laid claim to, at once to
punish Jaggard, and protect Heywood and other injured poets. In spite
of Heywood’s and Shakespeare’s protest, Jaggard brought out a third
edition of the “Passionate Pilgrim” in 1612, stating that they were
“newly corrected and augmented by W. Shakespeare. Whereunto is newly
added two Epistles, the first from Paris to Helen, and Helen’s answer
back again to Paris.” But pressure was evidently brought to bear upon
Jaggard, for though this stands in the title-page, the epistles _do not
appear in the text_.
To whatever cause we owe it, the Sonnets were published in 1609, long
after the vogue of sonneteering had passed, by T. T., _i.e._ Thomas
Thorpe, with an address to Mr. W. H. The chief battlefield in the
history of the sonnets has been over the meaning of those initials. I
believe, as I have said above, that they mean Mr. William Harvey.
Sir Thomas Heneage had died in 1595, leaving the Countess of
Southampton the second time a widow, in trouble over his bills, and
not over well treated by her friends. Shortly after her son’s stolen
marriage to Elizabeth Vernon in 1598 she had promised to marry her
faithful friend, now her knight, Sir William Harvey. Her action roused
the indignation of her son at first, and caused discomfort among her
friends. Harvey’s family and position were not equal to hers, and
matrimony in a mother is sometimes inconvenient to a son. The Earl
of Essex himself took the trouble to counsel her gravely. But like
her son she held her own way through thick and thin, and married Sir
William Harvey that same year. She died in 1607, and it was reported by
Chamberlain that “she had left the best part of her stuff to her son,
and the most part to her husband.” It is very likely that a manuscript
copy of “Shakespeare’s Sonnets” would be left among “the most part,”
and it is quite possible that after consultation with Southampton and
Shakespeare, Harvey, always a patron of letters, prepared them himself
to be published.
Thomas Thorpe was too glad of the chance of becoming a merchant
adventurer on the sea of publication. If, as I have shown to have
been possible, Sir William had, in the first instance, suggested
the writing of the early sonnets, the meaning of Thorpe’s address is
clear. It was quite usual to address a gentleman as “Mr.” after his
knighthood. Lady Southampton always spoke of her second husband as
Mr. Heneage. Further, since the death of his first wife, in 1607,
Sir William had consoled himself with a bright young bride, Mistress
Cordelia Ansley, of Lee. It would therefore be perfectly consonant with
Thorpe’s gratitude and his character to wish “Mr. W. H. all happinesse,
and that eternitie promised by the everlasting poet.”
The “eternity” intended might have been that of a long line of
descendants to keep up his noble name[40] (for it was a Thorpe who
wrote the address).
It may be urged that I cannot _prove_ this. I acknowledge it. But
surely an explanation so simple and one that fits so naturally into
the whole known series of facts, may be justly considered and duly
treated as a good working hypothesis, until something better may be
discovered.[41] And the surest way to learn more of Shakespeare is to
learn more about his friends.
_“Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature,”
vol. xxviii (read 24th June 1908)._
PS.--I had embodied most of these facts in the preface to my edition of
“Shakespeare’s Sonnets,” 1904 (De La More Press) and in my articles in
the “Athenæum.”
FOOTNOTES:
[31] Greene’s “Groatsworth of Wit,” 1592.
[32] See my articles in the “Athenæum,” “The Metrical Psalms of the
Court of Venus,” 24th June 1899, and “The Authorship of the New Court
of Venus,” 1st July 1899.
[33] Sonnet xx, 2.
[34] See my article, “Athenæum,” March 1898, “The Date of the Sonnets.”
[35] The Wriothesley motto was “Ung par tout, tout par ung.”
[36] See my “Date of Shakespeare’s Sonnets,” “Athenæum,” 19th and 26th
March 1898.
[37] It is curious that the allegorical “second intention” in the poem
should have been applied by Thomas Edwards, so early as 1595, to the
poet himself.
[38] The plague began on 20th October 1592 and ran on through 1593.
[39] See my article, “The First Official Record of Shakespeare’s Name,”
“Shakespeare Jahr-Buch,” 1895, Berlin.
[40] He was afterwards ennobled as Lord Harvey of Kidbrooke, and Baron
de Rosse in Ireland.
[41] It has been accepted by Dr. Brandl and published in his
Introduction to his translation into German of Shakespeare’s Sonnets,
1913.
XVI
WILLIAM HUNNIS, GENTLEMAN OF THE CHAPEL ROYAL
It has hitherto been a matter of surprise to the students of
Elizabethan literature, that a writer who seemed to them so
commonplace should have held such a high position in the opinion of
his contemporaries as William Hunnis evidently did. This apparent
anomaly set me seeking for something in the man that did not appear in
his works, or appeared there only suggestively. Every dictionary that
included his name added, “of his life very little is known.” When I
grasped the meaning of his association with the Kenilworth festivities,
I realized that his life was worth working out in relation to that
of Shakespeare. One thing I have been fortunate enough unexpectedly
to find: the William Hunnis of Elizabeth was only a survival of the
William Hunnis of Mary. Throughout the earlier reign he was the
centre of a group of dissatisfied subjects, whose souls were stirred
within them by the miseries of their country, and who kept plotting
in a haphazard and disconnected manner until their final discovery
in 1556, when severity silenced them. The Protestant doctrines and
the Protestant spirit of individual independence could, no doubt,
find some means of reconciling treason to a Catholic sovereign and
faithfulness to a distressed fatherland, crushed under a detested
Spanish oppression. His was a period of unrecognized incongruities. An
imitator of Sir Thomas Wyatt the poet (d. 1542) in his first literary
effort, a metrical translation of the Psalms published in 1550, it is
evident that he shared in the feelings of Thomas Wyatt the son about
the Spanish marriage, even if he did not join in his “plot” in 1553-4.
He was a friend of John Rogers, once Prebendary of St. Paul’s, the
co-worker with Tyndale in editing “Matthews’ Bible,” and he had seen
his friend burned at Smithfield on 4th February 1554-5. A few days
after he had been implicated in a plot “to kill the King and after
him the Queen,” while they were witnessing the “Juego de Cañas,” the
Moorish game of throwing cane lances on horseback, brought over here by
the Spaniards, at the wedding festivities of Lord Strange and the Lady
Margaret Clifford.[42] Whether the “gentlemen of the Chapel Royal” were
to be among the mounted performers, and thereby veil their purpose, or
whether they expected to take advantage of the excitement and confusion
prevailing, I know not. Nothing happened. Caution overcame their
courage.
It is probable this was the real foundation of the rumour of what Rapin
calls “the forged conspiracy pretended to be discovered before Philip
left” in September 1555. (Bk. xvi, p. 242, ed. 1733.)
The burning of four Bishops, thirteen clergymen, and sixty-seven
persons this year for religion; the increasing unpopularity of Philip,
his neglect of the Queen and infringement of his marriage articles; the
patriotic dread of seeing England overrun with Spaniards and its troops
and money drawn into the Spanish wars; all these causes had combined to
deepen the general discontent. Patriotic unity was even stronger than
religious bonds; and a wider conspiracy, including many Catholics, was
formed at the end of the year, aided by the shifty policy of the French
King, also bitterly anti-Spanish. In January 1555-6 there was a close
meeting of the chief conspirators, to plan how best to remove from the
treasury the money destined for Philip, and to use it in a national
war against the Spaniards, the Queen among them. One of their number,
John Dethicke of Westminster, proposed they should invite to join them
“William Hunnis, a very handsome man.” Thomas Whyte, “he who afterwards
betrayed them,” made a difficulty about admitting a stranger to their
secrets, “for fear of disclosing” (doubtless the others already knew
his name), and then John Dethicke answered Whyte, “We shoulde not nede
to dowt this man, because before at the Jugo de Cano or Barryers, he,
Allday, Cornwalle and others to the number of twelve, were appointed to
have slayen the Queen’s Majestie, and after that the King’s Majestie.”
Being asked how this took not effect, he said: “There was such a
cowardness and fear in their stomachs when they sholde have done it,
that they made scrupulnes who sholde begynne--knowing that whoever
should have been ruler afterwards would have been bound to have made an
example of them.” This at least proved William’s inclination to action
(tempered though it was with prudence), and prepared the conspirators
to welcome him. But the matter was clinched by Dethicke’s telling them
that Hunnis had _already_ “been aboute to counterfeit the Keys of
Brigham, and stele away the treasure.” When asked how he could have
come to the handling of them, Dethicke said Hunnis was very familiar
with Nicholas Brigham, the Keeper of the Treasure House at Westminster,
and with his wife. His special knowledge, skill, and opportunities made
him a valuable acquisition.
Shortly after, in the beginning of February, as Hunnis himself narrates
in his examination, John Dethicke, “understanding that I had some skyll
and practice in the syens of alchemy, and more, knowing me to be, by
means of certain suites in Ireland, in many men’s dangers, debated
with me in this wise, ‘Mr. Hunnis, I have but small acquaintance of
you, and that which is, came of my friend, Mr. Rogers, for whoes sake
and yor own, I should be glad ye should do well ... for I take you
to be a constant young man.’” Thereupon Mr. Dethicke tempted him to
exercise his skill in “coining” in Dieppe Castle, as the French King
had promised £100,000 to aid the conspirators. Through an amusing
series of conversations, in which the acuteness as well as the caution
of Hunnis is evident, the various plans of the conspirators were
explained, further than the “oath” of Dethicke should have allowed to
a member yet unsworn. “Thereunto,” quod he, “Beshrew that head. Thou
hast a cursed brain, and forasmuch thou hast so truely gessed, I put
thee out of dowte that same is our intention, for the French Kinge
hath promised our gents on the other syde to ayd them with shippes and
vitalls and ordenance, and all that we shall require shallbe to ayd
them withall.” “This,” quod I, “doth lyke me very well.” Nevertheless
Mr. William Hunnis very sensibly saw the possible dangers, and desired
to know what friends they were likely to have. Dethicke told him of
some thirty knights, and a great many noblemen, of Mr. Bethell and Mr.
Thomas Whyte, and notably of Sir Peter Carew, the fellow of Wyatt in
his ill-fated rising. “He is as sure on our syde, as I have you by the
arm.” Suddenly Dethicke recollected himself, and warned Hunnis that if
he disclosed the names and plans he had now heard, he would soon be
despatched by a dagger from an unknown hand. “Why Sir,” quod I, “what
nedeth ye thus to dowt of me?” “No, fayth,” quod he, “I dowt thee not,
but as friend, I willed wysh thee fyrst to be slaine so that they might
have their enterprise.”
Through further examinations we find that shortly after, Bethell,
preparing a ship by the aid of John Benbow, of the Chapel Royal, and
others, invited Hunnis to “go a-fishing with him.” Here, too, his
humour and acuteness seem to have forced Bethell to lay bare the plans
of his department of the conspiracy. “I would be loth to spend my
time in fishing, I would rather go a piracying,” which remark Bethell
seemed to disapprove of. Nevertheless Hunnis concluded, “I would very
faine go with you, only I shall not be ready so soon.” Another time
he asked Bethell “Do ye here of any news abrod that certen men should
arrive in this land from beyond the seas?” Says he, “In faith I car
not what I hear, but for myself I will be sure to serve my country
truely.” “And howe?” “To kepe that no stranger shall land!” “Captain,
that is well said!” answered Hunnis. This was at the very beginning of
March, when they met at Fleet Bridge, and the Captain, having been to
buy an ensign, told Hunnis that his boat was due by this tide at St.
Katharine’s, and that he had harnesses and coats of mail aboard for
over 109 men.
Hunnis was also consulted about the transcript of King Henry’s will
made by Henry Peckham for Sir Anthony Kingston, who believed that this
will, properly read, and also the laws of the realm, would support the
plan of the Western conspirators “to send the Quenes Highness over the
seas to the King, to make the Lady Elizabeth Queen, and to marry her
to the Earl of Devonshire.” Kingston encouraged them all, saying, “I
tell you true that the Lady Elizabeth is a goodly liberall dame, and
nothing so unthankfull as her sister is, and she taketh this liberality
of her mother, who was one of the bountifullest women, but you have
served the unthankfullest mistress on the erth, and all she has done,
has been agaynst her father, and her brother, or else to our sweet Lady
Elizabeth.”