Anglistica & Americana
A Series of Reprints Selected by Bernhard Fabian, Edgar Mertner, Karl
Schneider and Marvin Spevack
1968
GEORG OLMS VERLAGSBUCHHANDLUNG HILDESHEIM
Theophilus Cibber
The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753)
Vol. I
1968
The present facsimile is reproduced from a copy in the possession of
the Library of the University of Gottingen. Shelfmark: H. lit. biogr.
I 8464.
Although the title-page of Volume I announces four volumes, the work
is continued in a fifth volume of the same date. Like Volumes II, III,
and IV, it is by "Mr. CIBBER, and other Hands" and is "Printed for R.
GRIFFITHS".
M.S.
THE
LIVES
OF THE
POETS
OF
GREAT BRITAIN and IRELAND,
To the TIME of
DEAN _SWIFT_.
Compiled from ample Materials scattered in a Variety of Books, and
especially from the MS. Notes of the late ingenious Mr. COXETER and
others, collected for this Design,
By Mr. CIBBER.
In FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
MDCCLIII.
VOLUME I.
Contains the
LIVES
O F
Chaucer
Langland
Gower
Lydgate
Harding
Skelton
Barclay
More
Surry Earl
Wyat
Sackville
Churchyard
Heywood
Ferrars
Sidney
Marloe
Green
Spenser
Heywood
Lilly
Overbury
Marsten
Shakespear
Sylvester
Daniel
Harrington
Decker
Beaumont and Fletcher
Lodge
Davies
Goff
Greville L. Brooke
Day
Raleigh
Donne
Drayton
Corbet
Fairfax
Randolph
Chapman
Johnson
Carew
Wotton
Markham
T. Heywood
Cartwright
Sandys
Falkland
Suckling
Hausted
Drummond
Stirling Earl
Hall
Crashaw
Rowley
Nash
Ford
Middleton
THE LIVES OF THE POETS.
* * * *
GEOFFRY CHAUCER.
It has been observed that men of eminence in all ages, and
distinguished for the same excellence, have generally had something in
their lives similar to each other. The place of Homer's nativity, has
not been more variously conjectured, or his parents more differently
assigned than our author's. Leland, who lived nearest to Chaucer's
time of all those who have wrote his life, was commissioned by king
Henry VIII, to search all the libraries, and religious houses in
England, when those archives were preserved, before their destruction
was produced by the reformation, or Polydore Virgil had consumed such
curious pieces as would have contradicted his framed and fabulous
history. He for some reasons believed Oxford or Berkshire to have
given birth to this great man, but has not informed us what those
reasons were that induced him to believe so, and at present there
appears no other, but that the seats of his family were in those
countries. Pitts positively asserts, without producing any authority
to support it, that Woodstock was the place; which opinion Mr. Camden
seems to hint at, where he mentions that town; but it may be suspected
that Pitts had no other ground for the assertion, than Chaucer's
mentioning Woodstock park in his works, and having a house there. But
after all these different pretensions, he himself, in the Testament of
Love, seems to point out the place of his nativity to be the city of
London, and tho' Mr. Camden mentions the claim of Woodstock, he
does not give much credit to it; for speaking of Spencer (who was
uncontrovertedly born in London) he calls him fellow citizen to
Chaucer.
The descent of Chaucer is as uncertain, and unfixed by the critics,
as the place of his birth. Mr. Speight is of opinion that one Richard
Chaucer was his father, and that one Elizabeth Chaucer, a nun of St.
Helen's, in the second year of Richard II. might have been his sister,
or of his kindred. But this conjecture, says Urry,[1] seems very
improbable; for this Richard was a vintner, living at the corner of
Kirton-lane, and at his death left his house, tavern, and stock to the
church of St. Mary Aldermary, which in all probability he would not
have done if he had had any sons to possess his fortune; nor is it
very likely he could enjoy the family estates mentioned by Leland in
Oxfordshire, and at the same time follow such an occupation. Pitts
asserts, that his father was a knight; but tho' there is no authority
to support this assertion, yet it is reasonable to suppose that he
was something superior to a common employ. We find one John Chaucer
attending upon Edward III. and Queen Philippa, in their expedition to
Flanders and Cologn, who had the King's protection to go over sea
in the twelfth year of his reign. It is highly probable that
this gentleman was father to our Geoffry, and the supposition is
strengthened by Chaucer's first application, after leaving the
university and inns of law, being to the Court; nor is it unlikely
that the service of the father should recommend the son.
It is universally agreed, that he was born in the second year of the
reign of King Edward III. A.D. 1328. His first studies were in the
university of Cambridge, and when about eighteen years of age he wrote
his Court of Love, but of what college he was is uncertain, there
being no account of him in the records of the University. From
Cambridge he was removed to Oxford in order to compleat his studies,
and after a considerable stay there, and a strict application to the
public lectures of the university, he became (says Leland) "a ready
logician, a smooth rhetorician, a pleasant poet, a great philosopher,
an ingenious mathematician, and a holy divine. That he was a great
master in astronomy, is plain by his discourses of the Astrolabe. That
he was versed in hermetic philosophy (which prevailed much at that
time), appears by his Tale of the Chanons Yeoman: His knowledge in
divinity is evident from his Parson's Tale, and his philosophy from
the Testament of Love." Thus qualified to make a figure in the world,
he left his learned retirement, and travelled into France, Holland,
and other countries, where he spent some of his younger days. Upon his
return he entered himself in the Inner Temple, where he studied the
municipal laws of the land. But he had not long prosecuted that dry
study, till his superior abilities were taken notice of by some
persons of distinction, by whole patronage he then approached the
splendor of the court. The reign of Edward III. was glorious and
successful, he was a discerning as well as a fortunate Monarch; he had
a taste as well for erudition as for arms; he was an encourager of men
of wit and parts, and permitted them to approach him, without reserve.
At Edward's court nothing but gallantry and a round of pleasure
prevailed, and how well qualified our poet was to shine in the soft
circles, whoever has read his works, will be at no loss to determine;
but besides the advantages of his wit and learning, he possessed those
of person in a very considerable degree. He was then about the age of
thirty, of a fair beautiful complexion, his lips red and full, his
size of a just medium, and his air polished and graceful, so that he
united whatever could claim the approbation of the Great, and charm
the eyes of the Fair. He had abilities to record the valour of the
one, and celebrate the beauty of the other, and being qualified by his
genteel behaviour to entertain both, he became a finished courtier.
The first dignity to which we find him preferred, was that of page
to the king, a place of so much honour and esteem at that time, that
Richard II. leaves particular legacies to his pages, when few others
of his servants are taken notice of. In the forty-first year of Edward
III. he received as a reward of his services, an annuity of twenty
marks per ann. payable out of the Exchequer, which in those days was
no inconsiderable pension; in a year after he was advanced to be of
his Majesty's privy chamber, and a very few months to be his shield
bearer, a title, at that time, (tho' now extinct) of very great
honour, being always next the king's person, and generally upon signal
victories rewarded with military honours. Our poet being thus eminent
by his places, contracted friendships, and procured the esteem of
persons of the first quality. Queen Philippa, the Duke of Lancaster,
and his Duchess Blanch, shewed particular honour to him, and lady
Margaret the king's daughter, and the countess of Pembroke gave him
their warmest patronage as a poet. In his poems called the Romaunt,
and the Rose, and Troilus and Creseide, he gave offence to some court
ladies by the looseness of his description, which the lady Margaret
resented, and obliged him to atone for it, by his Legend of good
Women, a piece as chaste as the others were luxuriously amorous, and,
under the name of the Daisy, he veils lady Margaret, whom of all his
patrons he most esteemed.
Thus loved and honoured, his younger years were dedicated to pleasure
and the court. By the recommendation of the Dutchess Blanch, he
married one Philippa Rouet, sister to the guardianess of her grace's
children, who was a native of Hainault: He was then about thirty years
of age, and being fixed by marriage, the king began to employ him in
more public and advantageous posts. In the forty-sixth year of his
majesty's reign, Chaucer was sent to Venice in commission with others,
to treat with the Doge and Senate of Genoa, about affairs of great
importance to our state. The duke of Lancaster, whose favourite
passion was ambition, which demanded the assistance of learned
men, engaged warmly in our poet's interest; besides, the duke was
remarkably fond of Lady Catherine Swynford, his wife's sister, who
was then guardianess to his children, and whom he afterwards made his
wife; thus was he doubly attached to Chaucer, and with the varying
fortune of the duke of Lancaster we find him rise or fall. Much about
this time, for his successful negociations at Genoa, the king granted
to him by letters patent, by the title of Armiger Noster, one
pitcher of wine daily in the port of London, and soon after made him
comptroller of the customs, with this particular proviso, that he
should personally execute the office, and write the accounts relating
to it with his own hand. But as he was advanced to higher places
of trust, so he became more entangled in the affairs of state, the
consequence of which proved very prejudicial to him. The duke of
Lancaster having been the chief instrument of raising him to dignity,
expected the fruits of those favours in a ready compliance with him
in all his designs. That prince was certainly one of the proudest and
most ambitious men of his time, nor could he patiently bear the name
of a subject even to his father; nothing but absolute power, and the
title of king could satisfy him; upon the death of his elder brother,
Edward the black prince, he fixed an eye upon the English crown, and
seemed to stretch out an impatient hand to reach it. In this view he
sought, by all means possible, to secure his interest against the
decease of the old king; and being afraid of the opposition of the
clergy, who are always strenuous against an irregular succession, he
embraced the opinions and espoused the interests of Wickliff, who now
appeared at Oxford, and being a man of very great abilities, and much
esteemed at court, drew over to his party great numbers, as well
fashionable as low people. In this confusion, the duke of Lancaster
endeavoured all he could to shake the power of the clergy, and to
procure votaries amongst the leading popular men. Chaucer had no small
hand in promoting these proceedings, both by his public interest and
writings. Towards the close of Edward's reign, he was very active in
the intrigues of the court party, and so recommended himself to the
Prince successor, that upon his ascending the throne, he confirmed to
him by the title of Dilectus Armiger Noster, the grant made by the
late king of twenty marks per annum, and at the same time confirmed
the other grant of the late King for a pitcher of wine to be delivered
him daily in the port of London. In less than two years after this, we
find our poet so reduced in his cirumstances, (but by what means is
unknown) that the King in order to screen him from his creditors, took
him under his protection, and allowed him still to enjoy his former
grants. The duke of Lancaster, whose restless ambition ever excited
him to disturb the state, engaged now with, all the interest of
which he was master to promote himself to the crown; the opinions of
Wickliff gained ground, and so great a commotion now prevailed amongst
the clergy, that the king perceiving the state in danger, and being
willing to support the clerical interest, suffered the archbishop of
Canterbury to summon Wickliff to appear before him, whose interest
after this arraignment very much decayed.[2] The king who was devoted
to his pleasures, resigned himself, to some young courtiers who hated
the duke of Lancaster, and caused a fryar to accuse him of an attempt
to kill the king; but before he had an opportunity of making out the
charge against him, the fryar was murdered in a cruel and barbarous
manner by lord John Holland, to whose care he had been committed. This
lord John Holland, called lord Huntingdon, and duke of Exeter, was
half brother to the King, and had married Elizabeth, daughter of
the duke of Lancaster. He was a great patron of Chaucer, and much
respected by him. With the duke of Lancaster's interest Chaucer's
also sunk. His patron being unable to support him, he could no longer
struggle against opposite parties, or maintain his posts of honour.
The duke passing over sea, his friends felt all the malice of an
enraged court; which induced them to call in a number of the populace
to assist them, of which our poet was a zealous promoter. One John
of Northampton, a late lord mayor of London was at the head of these
disturbances; which did not long continue; for upon beheading one of
the rioters, and Northampton's being taken into custody, the commotion
subsided. Strict search was made after Chaucer, who escaped into
Hainault; afterwards he went to France, and finding the king resolute
to get him into his hands, he fled from thence to Zealand. Several
accomplices in this affair were with him, whom he supported in their
exile, while the chief ringleaders, (except Northampton who was
condemned at Reading upon the evidence of his clerk) had restored
themselves to court favour by acknowledging their crime, and now
forgot the integrity and resolution of Chaucer, who suffered exile to
secure their secrets; and so monstrously ungrateful were they, that
they wished his death, and by keeping supplies of money from him,
endeavoured to effect it;--While he expended his fortune in removing
from place to place, and in supporting his fellow exiles, so far from
receiving any assistance from England, his apartments were let, and
the money received for rent was never acccounted for to him; nor could
he recover any from those who owed it him, they being of opinion
it was impossible for him ever to return to his own country. The
government still pursuing their resentment against him and his
friends, they were obliged to leave Zealand, and Chaucer being unable
to bear longer the calamities of poverty and exile, and finding no
security wherever he fled, chose rather to throw himself upon the laws
of his country, than perish abroad by hunger and oppression. He had
not long returned till he was arrested by order of the king, and
confined in the tower of London. The court sometimes flattered
him with the return of the royal favour if he would impeach his
accomplices, and sometimes threatened him with immediate destruction;
their threats and promises he along while disregarded, but
recollecting the ingratitude of his old friends, and the miseries he
had already suffered, he at last made a confession, and according to
the custom of trials at that time, offered to prove the truth of it by
combat. What the consequence of this discovery was to his accomplices,
is uncertain, it no doubt exposed him to their resentment, and
procured him the name of a traytor; but the king, who regarded him as
one beloved by his grandfather, was pleased to pardon him. Thus fallen
from a heighth of greatness, our poet retired to bemoan the fickleness
of fortune, and then wrote his Testament of Love, in which are many
pathetic exclamations concerning the vicissitude of human things,
which he then bitterly experienced. But as he had formerly been the
favourite of fortune, when dignities were multiplied thick upon him,
so his miseries now succeeded with an equal swiftness; he was not only
discarded by his majesty, unpensioned, and abandoned, but he lost the
favour of the duke of Lancaster, as the influence of his wife's sister
with that prince was now much lessened. The duke being dejected with
the troubles in which he was involved, began to reflect on his
vicious course of life, and particularly his keeping that lady as
his concubine; which produced a resolution of putting her out of his
house, and he made a vow to that purpose. Chaucer, thus reduced, and
weary of the perpetual turmoils at court, retired to Woodstock, to
enjoy a studious quiet; where he wrote his excellent treatise of the
Astrolabe; but notwithstanding the severe treatment of the government,
he still retained his loyalty, and strictly enjoined his son to pray
for the king. As the pious resolutions of some people are often the
consequence of a present evil, so at the return of prosperity they are
soon dissipated. This proved the case with the duke of Lancaster: his
party again gathered strength, his interest began to rise; upon which
he took again his mistress to his bosom, and not content with heaping
favours, honours, and titles upon her, he made her his wife, procured
an act of parliament to legitimate her children, which gave great
offence to the duchess of Gloucester, the countess of Derby, and
Arundel, as she then was entitled to take place of them. With her
interest, Chaucer's also returned, and after a long and bitter storm,
the sun began to shine upon him with an evening ray; for at the
sixty-fifth year of his age, the king granted to him, by the title of
Delectus Armiger Noster, an annuity of twenty marks per annum
during his life, as a compensation for the former pension his needy
circumstances obliged him to part with; but however sufficient that
might be for present support, yet as he was encumbered with debts,
he durst not appear publickly till his majesty again granted him his
royal protection to screen him from the persecution of his creditors;
he also restored to him his grant of a pitcher of wine daily, and a
pipe annually, to be delivered to him by his son Thomas, who that year
possessed the office of chief butler to the king.
Now that I have mentioned his son, it will not be improper, to take
a view of our author's domestical affairs, at least as far as we are
enabled, by materials that have descended to our times.
Thomas his eldest son, was married to one of the greatest fortunes in
England, Maud, daughter and heir of Sir John Burgheershe, knight of
the garter, and Dr. Henry Burghurshe bishop of Lincoln, chancellor
and treasurer of England. Mr. Speight says this lady was given him in
marriage by Edward III. in return of his services performed in his
embassies in France. His second son Lewis was born in 1381, for when
his father wrote the treatise of the Astrolabe, he was ten years
old; he was then a student in Merton college in Oxford, and pupil to
Nicholas Strade, but there is no further account of him. Thomas who
now enjoyed the office of chief butler to his majesty, had the same
place confirmed to him for life, by letters patent to king Henry IV,
and continued by Henry VI. In the 2d year of Henry IV, we find him
Speaker of the House of Commons, Sheriff of Oxfordshire and Berkshire,
and Constable of Wallingford castle and Knaresborough castle during
life. In the 6th year of the same prince, he was sent ambassador to
France. In the 9th of the same reign the Commons presented him their
Speaker; as they did likewise in the 11th year. Soon after this Queen
Jane, granted to him for his good service, the manor of Woodstock,
Hannerborough and Wotten during life; and in the 13th year, he was
again presented Speaker as he was in the 2d of Henry V, and much
about that time he was sent by the king, to treat of a marriage
with Catherine daughter to the duke of Burgundy; he was sent again
ambassador to France, and passed thro' a great many public stations.
Mr. Stebbing says that he was knighted, but we find no such title
given him in any record. He died at Ewelm, the chief place of his
residence, in the year 1434. By his wife Maud he had one daughter
named Alice, who was thrice married, first to Sir John Philips, and
afterwards to Thomas Montacute earl of Salisbury: her third husband
was the famous William de la Pole, duke of Suffolk, who lost his head
by the fury of the Yorkists, who dreaded his influence in the opposite
party, tho' he stood proscribed by the parliament of Henry VI. for
misguiding that easy prince. Their son John had three sons, the second
of whom, Edmund, forfeited his life to the crown for treason against
Henry VII, by which means the estates which Chaucer's family possessed
came to the crown. But to return to our poet: By means of the duke
of Lancaster's marriage with his sister in law, he again grew to a
considerable share of wealth; but being now about seventy years of
age, and fatigued with a tedious view of hurried greatness, he quitted
the stage of grandeur where he had acted so considerable a part with
varied success, and retired to Dunnigton castle[3] near Newbury, to
reflect at leisure upon past transactions in the still retreats of
contemplation. In this retirement did he spend his few remaining
years, universally loved and honoured; he was familiar with all men of
learning in his time, and contracted friendship with persons of the
greatest eminence as well in literature as politics; Gower, Occleve,
Lidgate, Wickliffe were great admirers, and particular friends
of Chaucer; besides he was well acquainted with foreign poets,
particularly Francis Petrarch the famous Italian poet, and refiner of
the language. A Revolution in England soon after this happened,
in which we find Chaucer but little concerned; he made no mean
compliments to Henry IV, but Gower his cotemporary, though then very
old, flattered the reigning prince, and insulted the memory of his
murdered Sovereign. All acts of parliament and grants in the last
reign being annulled, Chaucer again repaired to Court to get fresh
grants, but bending with age and weakness, tho' he was successful in
his request, the fatigue of attendance so overcame him, that death
prevented his enjoying his new possessions. He died the 25th of
October in the year 1400, in the second of Henry IV, in the 72d of
his age, and bore the shock of death with the same fortitude and
resignation with which he had undergone a variety of pressures, and
vicissitudes of fortune.
Dryden says, he was poet laureat to three kings, but Urry is of
opinion that Dryden must be mistaken, as among all his works not one
court poem is to be found, and Selden observes, that he could find no
poet honoured with that title in England before the reign of Edward
IV, to whom one John Kaye dedicated the Siege of Rhodes in prose by
the title of his Humble Poet Laureat.
I cannot better display the character of this great man than in the
following words of Urry. "As to his temper, says he, he had a mixture
of the gay, the modest and the grave. His reading was deep and
extensive, his judgment sound and discerning; he was communicative of
his knowledge, and ready to correct or pass over the faults of his
cotemporary writers. He knew how to judge of and excuse the slips of
weaker capacities, and pitied rather than exposed the ignorance of
that age. In one word, he was a great scholar, a pleasant wit, a
candid critic, a sociable companion, a stedfast friend, a great
philosopher, a temperate oeconomist, and a pious christian." As to
his genius as a poet, Dryden (than whom a higher authority cannot be
produced) speaking of Homer and Virgil, positively asserts, that our
author exceeded the latter, and stands in competition with the former.
His language, how unintelligible soever it may seem, is almost as
modern as any of his cotemporaries, or of those who followed him at
the distance of 50 or 60 years, as Harding, Skelton and others, and
in some places it is so smooth and beautiful, that Dryden would not
attempt to alter it; I shall now give some account of his works in
the order in which they were written, so far as can be collected from
them, and subjoin a specimen of his poetry, of which profession as he
may justly be called the Morning Star, so as we descend into later
times; we may see the progress of poetry in England from its great
original, Chaucer, to its full blaze, and perfect consummation in
Dryden.
Mr. Philips supposes a greater part of his works to be lost, than what
we have extant of him; of that number may be many a song, and many a
lecherous lay, which perhaps might have been written by him while he
was a student at Cambridge.
The Court of Love, as has been before observed, was written while he
resided at Cambridge in the 18th year of his age.
The Craft Lovers was written in the year of our Lord, 1348, and
probably the Remedy of Love was written about that time, or not long
after.
The Lamentation of Mary Magdalen taken from Origen, was written by him
in his early years, and perhaps Boethius de Consolatione Philosophiæ
was translated by him about the same time.
The Romaunt of the Rose, is a translation from the French: this poem
was begun by William de Lerris, and continued by John de Meun, both
famous French poets; it seems to have been translated about the
time of the rise of Wickliffe's Opinions, it consisting of violent
invectives against religious orders.
The Complaint of the Black Knight, during John of Gaunt's courtship
with Blanch is supposed to be written on account of the duke of
Lancaster's marriage.
The poem of Troilus and Creseide was written in the early part of
his life, translated (as he says) from Lollius an historiographer in
Urbane in Italy; he has added several things of his own, and borrowed
from others what he thought proper for the embellishment of this work,
and in this respect was much indebted to his friend Petrarch the
Italian poet.
The House of Fame; from this poem Mr. Pope acknowledges he took the
hint of his Temple of Fame.
The book of Blaunch the Duchess, commonly called the Dreme of Chaucer,
was written upon the death of that lady.
The Assembly of Fowls (or Parlement of Briddis, as he calls it in his
Retraction) was written before the death of queen Philippa.
The Life of St. Cecilia seems to have been first a single poem,
afterwards made one of his Canterbury Tales which is told by the
second Nonne: and so perhaps was that of the Wife of Bath, which he
advises John of Gaunt to read, and was afterwards inserted in his
Canterbury Tales.
The Canterbury Tales were written about the year 1383. It is certain
the Tale of the Nonnes Priest was written after the Insurrection of
Jack Straw and Wat Tyler.
The Flower and the Leaf was written by him in the Prologue to the
Legend of Gode Women.
Chaucer's ABC, called la Priere de nostre Damê, was written for the
use of the duchess Blaunch.
The book of the Lion is mentioned in his Retraction, and by Lidgate in
the prologue to the Fall of Princes, but is now lost, as is that.
De Vulcani vene, i. e. of the Brocke of Vulcan, which is likewise
mentioned by Lidgate.
La belle Dame sans Mercy, was translated from the French of Alain
Chartier, secretary to Lewis XI, king of France.
The Complaint of Mars and Venus was translated from the French of Sir
Otes de Grantson, a French poet.
The Complaint of Annilida to false Arcite.
The Legend of Gode Women (called the Assembly of Ladies, and by some
the Nineteen Ladies) was written to oblige the queen, at the request
of the countess of Pembroke.
The treatise of the Conclusion of the Astrolabie was written in the
year 1391.
Of the Cuckow and Nightingale, this seems by the description to have
been written at Woodstock.
The Ballade beginning In Feverre, &c. was a compliment to the countess
of Pembroke.
Several other ballads are ascribed to him, some of which are justly
suspected not to have been his. The comedies imputed to him are no
other than his Canterbury Tales, and the tragedies were those the
monks tell in his Tales.
The Testament of Love was written in his trouble the latter part of
his life.
The Song beginning Fly fro the Prese, &c. was written in his
death-bed.
Leland says, that by the content of the learned in his time, the
Plowman's Tale was attributed to Chaucer, but was suppressed in the
edition then extant, because the vices of the clergy were exposed in
it. Mr. Speight in his life of Chaucer, printed in 1602, mentions a
tale in William Thynne's first printed book of Chaucer's works more
odious to the clergy than the Plowman's Tale. One thing must not be
omitted concerning the works of Chaucer. In the year 1526 the bishop
of London prohibited a great number of books which he thought had a
tendency to destroy religion and virtue, as did also the king in 1529,
but in so great esteem were his works then, and so highly valued by
the people of taste, that they were excepted out of the prohibition of
that act.
The PARDONERS PROLOGUE.
Lordings! quoth he, in chirch when I preche,
I paine mee to have an have an hauteine speche;
And ring it out, as round as doth a bell;
For I can all by rote that I tell.
My teme is always one, and ever was,
(Radix omnium malorum est cupiditas)
First, I pronounce fro whence I come,
And then my bills, I shew all and some:
Our liege--lords seal on my patent!
That shew I first, my body to warrent;
That no man be so bold, priest ne clerk,
Me to disturb of Christ's holy werke;
And after that I tell forth my tales,
Of bulls, of popes, and of cardinales,
Of patriarkes, and of bishops I shew;
And in Latin I speake wordes a few,
To faver with my predication,
And for to stere men to devotion,
Then shew I forth my long, christall stones,
Ycrammed full of clouts and of bones;
Relickes they been, as were they, echone!
Then have I, in Latin a shoder-bone,
Which that was of an holy Jewes shepe.
Good men, fay, take of my words kepe!
If this bone be washen in any well,
If cow, or calfe, shepe, or oxe swell
That any worm hath eaten, or hem strong,
Take water of this well, and wash his tong.
And it is hole a-non: And furthermore,
Of pockes, and scabs, and every sore
Shall shepe be hole, that of this well
Drinketh a draught: Take keep of that I tell!
If that the good man, that beasts oweth,
Woll every day, ere the cocke croweth,
Fasting drink of this well, a draught,
(As thilk holy Jew our elders taught)
His beasts and his store shall multiplie:
And sirs, also it healeth jealousie,
For, though a man be fall in jealous rage,
Let make with this Water his potage,
And never shall he more his wife mistrist,
Thughe, in sooth, the defaut by her wist:
All had she taken priests two or three!
Here is a mittaine eke, that ye may see.
He that has his hand well put in this mittaine;
He shall have multiplying of his graine,
When he hath sowen, be it wheat or otes;
So that he offer good pens or grotes!
Those who would prefer the thoughts of this father of English poetry,
in a modern dress, are referred to the elegant versions of him,
by Dryden, Pope, and others, who have done ample justice to their
illustrious predecessor.
[Footnote 1: Life of Chaucer prefixed to Ogle's edition of that author
modernized.]
[Footnote 2: Some biographers of Chaucer say, that pope Gregory IX.
gave orders to the archbishop of Canterbury to summon him, and that
when a synod was convened at St. Paul's, a quarrel happened between
the bishop of London and the duke of Lancaster, concerning Wickliff's
sitting down in their presence.]
[Footnote 3: Mr. Camden gives a particular description of this
castle.]
* * * * *
LANGLAND.
It has been disputed amongst the critics whether this poet preceded
or followed Chaucer. Mrs. Cooper, author of the Muses Library, is of
opinion that he preceded Chaucer, and observes that in more places
than one that great poet seems to copy Langland; but I am rather
inclined to believe that he was cotemporary with him, which accounts
for her observation, and my conjecture is strengthened by the
consideration of his stile, which is equally unmusical and obsolete
with Chaucer's; and tho' Dryden has told us that Chaucer exceeded
those who followed him at 50 or 60 years distance, in point of
smoothness, yet with great submission to his judgment, I think there
is some alteration even in Skelton and Harding, which will appear to
the reader to the best advantage by a quotation. Of Langland's family
we have no account. Selden in his notes on Draiton's Poly Olbion,
quotes him with honour; but he is entirely neglected by Philips and
Winstanly, tho' he seems to have been a man of great genius: Besides
Chaucer, few poets in that or the subsequent age had more real
inspiration or poetical enthusiasm in their compositions. One cannot
read the works of this author, or Chaucer, without lamenting the
unhappiness of a fluctuating language, that buries in its ruins even
genius itself; for like edifices of sand, every breath of time defaces
it, and if the form remain, the beauty is lost. The piece from which I
shall quote a few lines, is a work of great length and labour, of
the allegoric kind; it is animated with a lively and luxurious
imagination; pointed with a variety of pungent satire; and dignified
with many excellent lessons of morality; but as to the conduct of
the whole, it does not appear to be of a piece; every vision seems a
distinct rhapsody, and does not carry on either one single action or
a series of many; but we ought rather to wonder at its beauties than
cavil at its defects; and if the poetical design is broken, the
moral is entire, which, is uniformly the advancement of piety, and
reformation of the Roman clergy. The piece before us is entitled the
Vision of Piers the Plowman, and I shall quote that particular part
which seems to have furnished a hint to Milton in his Paradise Lost,
b. 2. 1. 475.
Kinde Conscience tho' heard, and came out of
the planets,
And sent forth his sorrioues, fevers, and fluxes,
Coughes, and cardicales, crampes and toothaches,
Reums, and ragondes, and raynous scalles,
Byles, and blothes, and burning agues,
Freneses, and foul euyl, foragers of kinde!
* * * * *
There was harrow! and help! here cometh Kinde
With death that's dreadful, to undone us all
Age the hoore, he was in vaw-ward
And bare the baner before death, by right he it
claymed!
Kinde came after, with many kene foxes,
As pockes, and pestilences, and much purple
shent;
So Kinde, through corruptions killed full many:
Death came driving after, and all to dust pashed
Kyngs and bagaars, knights and popes.
* * * * *
MILTON.
----------Immediately a place
Before his eyes appear'd, sad, noisom, dark,
A lazar-house it seem'd; wherein were laid
Numbers of all diseased: all maladies
Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms
Of heartsick agony, all fev'rous kinds,
Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs,
Intestine stone and ulcer, cholic-pangs
Demoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy
And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy,
Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence,
Dropsies and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums;
Dire was the tossing! deep the groans! despair
Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch:
And over them, triumphant death his dart
Shook. P. L. b. xi. 1. 477.
* * * * *
Sir JOHN GOWER
Flourished in the reign of Edward III, and Richard II. He was
cotemporary with Chaucer and much esteemed and honoured by him, as
appears by his submitting his Troilus and Cressida to his censure.
Stow in his Survey of London seems to be of opinion that he was no
knight, but only an esquire; however, it is certain he was descended
of a knightly family, at Sittenham in Yorkshire. He received his
education in London, and studied the law, but being possessed of a
great fortune, he dedicated himself more to pleasure and poetry than
the bar; tho' he seems not to have made any proficiency in poetry, for
his works are rather cool translations, than originals, and are quite
destitute of poetical fire. Bale makes him Equitem Auratum & Poetam
Laureatum, but Winstanly says that he was neither laureated nor
bederated, but only rosated, having a chaplet of four roses about his
head in his monumental stone erected in St. Mary Overy's, Southwark:
He was held in great esteem by King Richard II, to whom he dedicates a
book called Confessio Amantis. That he was a man of no honour appears
by his behaviour when the revolution under Henry IV happened in
England. He was under the highest obligations to Richard II; he had
been preferred, patronized and honoured by him, yet no sooner did that
unhappy prince (who owed his misfortunes in a great measure to his
generosity and easiness of nature) fall a sacrifice to the policy of
Henry and the rage of rebellion, but he worshiped the Rising Sun,
he joined his interest with the new king, and tho' he was then
stone-blind, and, as might naturally be imagined, too old to desire
either riches or power, yet he was capable of the grossest flattery
to the reigning prince, and like an ungrateful monster insulted the
memory of his murdered sovereign and generous patron. He survived
Chaucer two years; Winstanly says, that in his old age he was made a
judge, possibly in consequence of his adulation to Henry IV. His death
happened in the year 1402, and as he is said to have been born some
years before Chaucer, so he must have been near fourscore years of
age: He was buried in St. Mary Overy's in Southwark, in the chapel of
St. John, where he founded a chauntry, and left money for a mass to be
daily sung for him, as also an obit within the church to be kept on
Friday after the feast of St. Gregory. He lies under a tomb of stone,
with his image also of stone over him, the hair of his head auburn,
long to his shoulders, but curling up, and a small forked beard;
on his head a chaplet like a coronet of roses; an habit of purple,
damasked down to his feet, and a collar of gold about his neck. Under
his feet the likeness of three books which he compiled; the first
named Speculum Meditantis, written in French; the second Vox
Clamantis, in latin; the third Confessio Amantis, in English; this
last piece was printed by one Thomas Berthalette, and by him dedicated
to King Henry VIII. His Vox clamantis, with his Chronica Tripartita,
and other works, both in Latin and French, Stow says he had in his
possession, but his Speculum Meditantis he never saw. Besides on the
wall where he lies, there were painted three virgins crowned, one of
which was named Charity, holding this device,
En toy quies fitz de Dieu le pere,
Sauve soit, qui gist fours cest pierre.
The second writing MERCY, with this device;
O bene Jesu fait ta mercy,
A'lame, dont la corps gisticy.
The third writing PITY, with this decree;
Pour ta pitie Jesu regarde,
Et met cest a me, en sauve garde.
His arms were in a Field Argent, on a Chevron Azure, three Leopards
heads or, their tongues Gules, two Angels supporters, and the crest a
Talbot.
His EPITAPH.
Armigeri soltum nihil a modo fert sibi tutum,
Reddidit immolutum morti generale tributum,
Spiritus exutum se gaudeat esse solutum
Est ubi virtutum regnum sine labe est statum.
I shall take a quotation from a small piece of his called the Envious
Man and the Miser; by which it will appear, that he was not, as
Winstanley says, a refiner of our language, but on the other hand,
that poetry owes him few or no obligations.
Of the Envious MAN and the MISER.
Of Jupiter thus I find ywrite,
How, whilom, that he woulde wite,
Upon the plaintes, which he herde
Among the men, how that it farde,
As of her wronge condition
To do justificacion.
And, for that cause, downe he sent
An angel, which aboute went,
That he the sooth knowe maie.
Besides the works already mentioned our poet wrote the following:
De Compunctione Cordi, in one book.
Chronicon Ricardi secundi.
Ad Henricum Quartum, in one book.
Ad eundem de Laude Pacis, in one book.
De Rege Henrico, quarto, in one book.
De Peste Vitiorum, in one book.
Scrutinium Lucis, in one book.
De Regimine Principum.
De Conjugii Dignitate.
De Amoris Varietate.
* * * * *
JOHN LYDGATE,
Commonly called the monk of Bury, because a native of that place. He
was another disciple and admirer of Chaucer, and it must be owned far
excelled his master, in the article of versification. After sometime
spent in our English universities, he travelled thro' France and
Italy, improving his time to the accomplishment of learning the
languages and arts. Pitseus says, he was not only an elegant poet, and
an eloquent rhetorician, but also an expert mathematician, an acute
philosopher, and no mean divine. His verses were so very smooth, and
indeed to a modern ear they appear so, that it was said of him by his
contemporaries, that his wit was framed and fashioned by the Muses
themselves. After his return from France and Italy, he became tutor
to many noblemen's sons, and for his excellent endowments was much
esteemed and reverenced by them. He writ a poem called the Life
and Death of Hector, from which I shall give a specimen of his
versification.
I am a monk by my profession
In Bury, called John Lydgate by my name,
And wear a habit of perfection;
(Although my life agree not with the same)
That meddle should with things spiritual,
As I must needs confess unto you all.
But seeing that I did herein proceed
At[1] his commands whom I could not refuse,
I humbly do beseech all those that read,
Or leisure have this story to peruse,
If any fault therein they find to be,
Or error that committed is by me,
That they will of their gentleness take pain,
The rather to correct and mend the same,
Than rashly to condemn it with disdain,
For well I wot it is not without blame,
Because I know the verse therein is wrong
As being some too short, and some too long.
His prologue to the story of Thebes, a tale (as he says) he was
constrained to tell, at the command of his host of the Tabard in
Southwark, whom he found in Canterbury with the rest of the pilgrims
who went to visit St. Thomas's shrine, is remarkably smooth for
the age in which he writ. This story was first written in Latin by
Chaucer, and translated by Lydgate into English verse, Pitseus says
he writ, partly in prose and partly in verse, many exquisite learned
books, amongst which are eclogues, odes, and satires. He flourished in
the reign of Henry VI. and died in the sixtieth year of his age, ann.
1440. and was buried in his own convent at Bury, with this epitaph,
Mortuus sæclo, superis superstes,
Hic jacet Lydgate tumulatus urna:
Qui suit quondam celebris Britannæ,
Fama poesis.
Which is thus rendered into English by Winstanly;
Dead in this world, living above the sky,
Intomb'd within this urn doth Lydgate lie;
In former times fam'd for his poetry,
All over England.
[Footnote 1: K. Henry V.]
* * * * *
JOHN HARDING.
John Harding, the famous English Chronologer, was born (says Bale) in
the Northern parts, and probably Yorkshire, being an Esquire of an
eminent parentage. He was a man addicted both to arms and arts, in the
former of which he seems to have been the greatest proficient:
His first military exploit was under Robert Umsreuil, governor of
Roxborough Castle, where he distinguished himself against the Scots,
before which the King of Scotland was then encamped, and unfortunately
lost his life. He afterwards followed the standard of Edward IV. to
whose interest both in prosperity and distress he honourably adhered.
But what endeared him most to the favour of that Prince, and was
indeed the masterpiece of his service, was his adventuring into
Scotland, and by his courteous insinuating behaviour, so far
ingratiating himself into the favour of their leading men, that he
procured the privilege of looking into their records and original
letters, a copy of which he brought to England and presented to the
King. This successful achievement established him in his Prince's
affections, as he was solicitous to know how often the Kings of
Scotland had taken oaths of fealty and subjected themselves to the
English Monarchs in order to secure their crown. These submissions
are warmly disputed by the Scotch historians, who in honour of their
country contend that they were only yielded for Cumberland and some
parcels of land possessed by them in England south of Tweed; and
indeed when the warlike temper and invincible spirit of that nation is
considered, it is more than probable, that the Scotch historians in
this particular contend only for truth. Our author wrote a chronicle
in verse of all our English Kings from Brute to King Edward IV. for
which Dr. Fuller and Winstanly bestow great encomiums upon him; but
he seems to me to be totally destitute of poetry, both from the
wretchedness of his lines, and the unhappiness of his subject, a
chronicle being of all others the driest, and the least susceptible of
poetical ornament; but let the reader judge by the specimen subjoined.
He died about the year 1461, being then very aged. From Gower to
Barclay it must be observed, that Kings and Princes were constantly
the patrons of poets.
On the magnificent houshold of King Richard II,
Truly I herd Robert Irelese say,
Clark of the Green Cloth, and that to the houshold,
Came every day, forth most part alway,
Ten thousand folk by his messes told;
That followed the house, aye as they wold,
And in the kitchen, three hundred scruitours,
And in eche office many occupiours,
And ladies faire, with their gentlewomen
Chamberers also, and launderers,
Three hundred of them were occupied then;
There was great pride among the officers,
And of all men far passing their compeers,
Of rich arraye, and much more costous,
Then was before, or sith, and more precious.
* * * * *
JOHN SKELTON
Was born of an ancient family in Cumberland, he received his education
at Oxford, and entering into holy orders was made rector of Dysso in
Norfolk in the reign of Henry VIII. tho' more probably he appeared
first in that of Henry VII. and may be said to be the growth of that
time. That he was a learned man Erasmus has confirmed, who in his
letter to King Henry VIII. stileth him, Britanicarum Literarum Lumen
& Decus: Tho' his stile is rambling and loose, yet he was not without
invention, and his satire is strongly pointed. He lived near fourscore
years after Chaucer, but seems to have made but little improvement in
versification. He wrote some bitter satires against the clergy, and
particularly, his keen reflections on Cardinal Wolsey drew on him
such severe prosecutions, that he was obliged to fly for sanctuary to
Westminster, under the protection of Islip the Abbot, where he died in
the year 1529. It appears by his poem entitled, The Crown of Laurel,
that his performances were numerous, and such as remain are chiefly
these, Philip Sparrow, Speak Parrot, the Death of King Edward IV, a
Treatise of the Scots, Ware the Hawk, the Tunning of Elianer Rumpkin.
In these pieces there is a very rich vein of wit and humour, tho' much
debased by the rust of the age he lived in. His satires are remarkably
broad, open and ill-bred; the verse cramped by a very short measure,
and encumbered with such a profusion of rhimes, as makes the poet
appear almost as ridiculous as those he endeavours to expose. In his
more serious pieces he is not guilty of this absurdity; and confines
himself to a regular stanza, according to the then reigning mode.
His Bouge of Court is a poem of some merit: it abounds with wit and
imagination, and shews him well versed in human nature, and the
insinuating manners of a court. The allegorical characters are finely
described, and well sustained; the fabric of the whole I believe
entirely his own, and not improbably may have the honour of furnishing
a hint even to the inimitable Spencer. How or by whose interest he was
made Laureat, or whether it was a title he assumed to himself, cannot
be determined, neither is his principal patron any where named; but if
his poem of the Crown Lawrel before mentioned has any covert meaning,
he had the happiness of having the Ladies for his friends, and the
countess of Surry, the lady Elizabeth Howard, and many others united
their services in his favour. When on his death-bed he was charged
with having children by a mistress he kept, he protected that in his
conscience he kept her in the notion of a wife: And such was his
cowardice, that he chose rather to confess adultery than own marriage,
a crime at that time more subjected to punishment than the other.
The PROLOGUE to the BOUGE COURTS.
In autumne, whan the sunne in vyrgyne,
By radyante hete, enryped hath our corne,
When Luna, full of mucabylyte,
As Emperes the dyademe hath worne
Of our Pole artyke, smylynge half in scorne,
At our foly, and our unstedfastnesse,
The tyme when Mars to warre hym did dres
I, callynge to mynde the great auctoryte
Of poetes olde, whiche full craftely,
Under as couerte termes as coulde be,
Can touche a trouthe, and cloke subtylly
With fresh Utterance; full sentcyously,
Dyverse in style: some spared not vyce to wryte,
Some of mortalitie nobly dyd endyte.
His other works, as many as could be collected are chiefly these:
Meditations on St. Ann.
--------on the Virgin of Kent.
Sonnets on Dame Anne,
Elyner Rummin, the famous alewife of England, often printed, the last
edition 1624.
The Peregrinations of human Life.
Solitary Sonnets.
The Art of dying well.
--------Speaking eloquently.
Manners of the Court.
Invective against William Lyle the Grammarian.
Epitaphs on Kings, Princes, and Nobles,
Collin Clout.
Poetical Fancies and Satires.
Verses on the Death of Arthur Prince of Wales.
* * * * *
ALEXANDER BARCLAY.
He was an author of some eminence and merit, tho' there are few things
preserved concerning him, and he has been neglected by almost all the
biographers of the poets. That excellent writer Mrs. Cooper seems to
have a pretty high opinion of his abilities; it is certain that he
very considerably refined the language, and his verses are much
smoother than those of Harding, who wrote but a few years before him.
He stiles himself Priest, and Chaplain in the College of St. Mary,
Otory, in the county of Devon, and afterwards Monk of Ely. His
principal work is a translation of a satirical piece, written
originally in high Dutch, and entitled the Ship of Fools: It exposes
the characters, vices, and follies of all degrees of men, and tho'
much inferior in its execution to the Canterbury Tales, has yet
considerable merit, especially when it is considered how barren and
unpolite the age was in which he flourished. In the prologue to this
he makes an apology for his youth, and it appears that the whole was
finished Anno Dom.-1508, which was about the close of the reign of
Henry VII. In elegancy of manners he has the advantage of all his
predecessors, as is particularly remarkable in his address to Sir
Giles Alington, his patron. The poet was now grown old, and the knight
desiring him to abridge and improve Gower's Confessio Amantis, he
declines it in the politest manner, on account of his age, profession,
and infirmities; 'but tho' love is an improper subject, 'says he, I
am still an admirer of the sex, and shall 'introduce to the honour of
your acquaintance, 'four of the finest ladies that nature ever framed,
'Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and Magnanimity;' the whole of the
address is exceeding courtly, and from this I shall quote a few lines,
which will both illustrate his politeness and versification
To you these accorde; these unto you are due,
Of you late proceeding as of their head fountayne;
Your life as example in writing I ensue,
For, more then my writing within it can contayne:
Your manners performeth and doth there attayne:
So touching these vertues, ye have in your living
More than this my meter conteyneth in writing.
My dities indited may counsell many one,
But not you, your maners surmounteth my
doctrine
Wherefore, I regard you, and your maners all
one,
After whose living my processes, I combine:
So other men instrusting, I must to you encline
Conforming my process, as much as I am able,
To your sad behaviour and maners commendable.
He was author of the following pieces.
Lives of several of the Saints.
Salust's History of the Jugurthiam war translatcd into English.
The Castle of Labour, translated from the French into English.
Bale gives this author but an indifferent character as to his morals;
he is said to have intrigued with women, notwithstanding his clerical
profession: It is certain he was a gay courtly man, and perhaps, tho'
he espoused the Church in his profession, he held their celebacy and
pretended chastity in contempt, and being a man of wit, indulged
himself in those pleasures, which seem to be hereditary to the poets.
* * * * *
Sir THOMAS MORE.
Tho' poetry is none of the excellencies in which this great man was
distinguished, yet as he wrote some verses with tolerable spirit, and
was in almost every other respect one of the foremost geniusses our
nation ever produced, I imagine a short account of his life here will
not be disagreable to the readers, especially as all Biographers of
the Poets before me have taken notice of him, and ranked him amongst
the number of Bards. Sir Thomas More was born in Milk-street, London,
A.D. 1480. He was son to Sir John More, Knight, and one of the
Justices of the King's-Bench, a man held in the highest esteem at
that time for his knowledge in the law and his integrity in the
administration of justice. It was objected by the enemies of Sir
Thomas, that his birth was obscure, and his family mean; but far
otherwise was the real case. Judge More bore arms from his birth,
having his coat of arms quartered, which proves his having come to his
inheritance by descent. His mother was likewise a woman of family, and
of an extraordinary virtue.
Doctor Clement relates from the authority of our author himself, a
vision which his mother had, the next night after her marriage. She
thought she saw in her sleep, as it were engraven in her wedding ring,
the number and countenances of all the children she was to have, of
whom the face of one was so dark and obscure, that she could not well
discern it, and indeed she afterwards suffered an untimely delivery of
one of them: the face of the other she beheld shining most gloriously,
by which the future fame of Sir Thomas was pre-signified. She also
bore two daughters. But tho' this story is told with warmth by his
great grandson, who writes his life, yet, as he was a Roman Catholic,
and and disposed to a superstitious belief in miracles and visions,
there is no great stress to be laid upon it. Lady More might perhaps
communicate this vision to her son, and he have embraced the belief
of it; but it seems to have too little authority, to deserve credit
from posterity.
Another miracle is related by Stapleton, which is said to have
happened in the infancy of More. His nurse one day crossing a river,
and her horse stepping into a deep place, exposed both her and the
child to great danger. She being more anxious for the safety of the
child than her own, threw him over a hedge into a field adjoining, and
escaping likewise from the imminent danger, when she came to take him
up, she found him quite unhurt and smiling sweetly upon her.
He was put to the free-school in London called St. Anthony's, under
the care of the famous Nicholas Holt, and when he had with great
rapidity acquired a knowledge of his grammar rules, he was placed by
his father's interest under the great Cardinal Merton, archbishop of
Canterbury, and Lord High Chancellor, whose gravity and learning,
generosity and tenderness, allured all men to love and honour him.
To him More dedicated his Utopia, which of all his works is
unexceptionably the most masterly and finished. The Cardinal finding
himself too much incumbered with business, and hurried with state
affairs to superintend his education, placed him in Canterbury
College in Oxford, whereby his assiduous application to books, his
extraordinary temperance and vivacity of wit, he acquired the first
character among the students, and then gave proofs of a genius that
would one day make a great blaze in the world. When he was but
eighteen years old such was the force of his understanding, he wrote
many epigrams which were highly esteemed by men of eminence, as
well abroad as at home. Beatus Rhenanus in his epistle to Bilibalus
Pitchemerus, passes great encomiums upon them, as also Leodgarius à
Quercu, public reader of humanity at Paris. One Brixius a German, who
envied the reputation of this young epigramatist, wrote a book against
these epigrams, under the title of Antimorus, which had no other
effect than drawing Erasmus into the field, who celebrated and
honoured More; whose high patronage was the greatest compliment the
most ambitious writer could expect, so that the friendship of Erasmus
was cheaply purchased by the malevolence of a thousand such critics as
Brixius. About the same time of life he translated for his exercise
one of Lucian's orations out of Greek into Latin, which he calls his
First Fruits of the Greek Tongue; and adds another oration of his own
to answer that of Lucian; for as he had defended him who had slain a
tyrant, he opposed against it another with such forcible arguments,
that it seems not to be inferior to Lucian's, either in invention or
eloquence: When he was about twenty years old, finding his appetites
and passions very predominant. He struggled with all the heroism of a
christian against their influence, and inflicted severe whippings and
austere mortifications upon himself every friday and on high fasting
days, left his sensuality would grow too insolent, and at last subdue
his reason. But notwithstanding all his efforts, finding his lusts
ready to endanger his soul, he wisely determined to marry, a remedy
much more natural than personal inflictions; and as a pattern of life,
he proposed the example of a singular lay-man, John Picas Earl of
Mirandula, who was a man famous for chastity, virtue, and learning. He
translated this nobleman's life, as also many of his letters, and his
twelve receipts of good life, which are extant in the beginning of his
English works. For this end he also wrote a treatise of the four last
things, which he did not quite finish, being called to other studies.
At his meals he was very abstemious, nor ever eat but of one dish,
which was most commonly powdered beef, or some such saltmeat. In his
youth he abstained wholly from wine; and as he was temperate in his
diet, so was he heedless and negligent in his apparel. Being once told
by his secretary Mr. Harris, that his shoes were all torn, he bad him
tell his man to buy him new ones, whose business it was to take care
of his cloaths, whom for this cause he called his tutor. His first
wife's name was Jane Cole, descended of a genteel family, who bore him
four children, and upon her decease, which in not many years happened,
he married a second time a widow, one Mrs. Alice Middleton, by whom he
had no children. This he says he did not to indulge his passions (for
he observes that it it harder to keep chastity in wedlock than in a
single life,) but to take care of his children and houshold affairs.
Upon what principle this observation is founded, I cannot well
conceive, and wish Sir Thomas had given his reasons why it is harder
to be chaste in a married than single life. This wife was a worldly
minded woman, had a very indifferent person, was advanced in years,
and possessed no very agreeable temper. Much about this time he became
obnoxious to Henry VII for opposing his exactions upon the people.
Henry was a covetous mean prince, and entirely devoted to the
council of Emson and Dudley, who then were very justly reckoned the
caterpillars of the state. The King demanded a large subsidy to bestow
on his eldest daughter, who was then about to be married to James IV.
of Scotland. Sir Thomas being one of the burgesses, so influenced the
lower house by the force of his arguments, (who were cowardly enough
before not to oppose the King) that they refused the demands, upon
which Mr. Tiler of the King's Privy-Chambers went presently to
his Majesty, and told him that More had disappointed all their
expectations, which circumstance not a little enraged him against
More. Upon this Henry was base enough to pick a quarrel without a
cause against Sir John More, his venerable father, and in revenge to
the son, clapt him in the Tower, keeping him there prisoner till he
had forced him to pay one hundred pounds of a fine, for no offence.
King Henry soon after dying, his son who began his reign with some
popular acts, tho' afterwards he degenerated into a monstrous tyrant,
caused Dudley and Emson to be impeached of high treason for giving bad
advice to his father; and however illegal such an arraignment might
be, yet they met the just fate of oppressors and traitors to their
country.
About the year 1516, he composed his famous book called the Utopia,
and gained by it great reputation. Soon after it was published, it
was translated both into French and Italian, Dutch and English. Dr.
Stapleton enumerates the opinions of a great many learned men in its
favour. This work tho' not writ in verse, yet in regard of the fancy
and invention employed in composing it, may well enough pass for an
allegorical poem. It contains the idea of a compleat Commonwealth in
an imaginary island, (pretended to be lately discovered in America)
and that so well counterfeited, that many upon reading it, mistook it
for a real truth, in so much (says Winstanly) that some learned men,
as Budeus, Johannes Plaudanus, out of a principle of fervent zeal,
wished that some excellent divines might be sent hither to preach
Christ's Gospel.
Much about the same time he wrote the history of Richard III. which
was likewise held in esteem; these works were undertaken when he was
discharged from the business of the state.
Roper, in his life of our author, relates that upon an occasion in
which King Henry VIII. and the Pope were parties in a cause tryed in
the Star Chamber, Sir Thomas most remarkably distinguished himself,
and became so great a favourite with that discerning monarch, that he
could no longer forbear calling him into his service.
A ship of the Pope's, by the violence of a storm was driven into
Southampton, which the King claimed as a forfeiture; when the day of
hearing came on before the Lord High Chancellor, and other Judges,
More argued so forcibly in favour of the Pope, that tho' the Judges
had resolved to give it for the King, yet they altered their opinion,
and confirmed the Pope's right. In a short time after this, he was
created a Knight, and after the death of Mr. Weston, he was made
Treasurer of the Exchequer, and one of the Privy Council. He was now
Speaker of the House of Commons, and thus exalted in dignity, the
eyes of the nation were fixed upon him. Wolsey, who then governed the
realm, found himself much grieved by the Burgesses, because all their
transactions were so soon made public, and wanting a fresh subsidy,
came to the house in person to complain of this usage. When the
burgesses heard of his coming, it was long debated whether they should
admit him or no, and Sir Thomas strongly urged that he should be
admitted, for this reason, that if he shall find fault with the
spreading of our secrets, (says he) we may lay the blame upon those
his Grace brought with him. The proud Churchman having entered the
House, made a long speech for granting the subsidy, and asked several
of the Members opinion concerning it; they were all so confounded as
not to be able to answer, and the House at last resolved that their
Speaker should reply for them. Upon this Sir Thomas shewed that the
cardinal's coming into the House was unprecedented, illegal, and a
daring insult on the liberty of the burgesses, and that the subsidy
demanded was unnecessary; upon which Wolsey suddenly departed in
a rage, and ever after entertained suspicions of More, and became
jealous of his great abilities. Our author's fame was not confined
to England only; all the scholars and statesmen in every country in
Europe had heard of, and corresponded with him, but of all strangers
he had a peculiar esteem for Erasmus, who took a journey into England
in order to converse with him, and enter more minutely into the merit
of one whose learning he had so high an opinion of. They agreed to
meet first at my Lord Mayor's table, and as they were personally
unknown, to make the experiment whether they could discover one
another by conversation. They met accordingly, and remained some hours
undiscovered; at last an argument was started in which both engaged
with great keenness, Erasmus designedly defended the unpopular side,
but finding himself so strongly pressed, that he could hold it no
longer, he broke out in an extasy, aut tu es Morus, aut Nullus. Upon
which More replied, aut tu es Erasmus, aut Diabolus, as at that time
Erasmus was striving to defend very impious propositions, in order to
put his antagonist's strength to the proof.
When he lived in the city of London as a justice of peace, he used
to attend the sessions at Newgate. There was then upon the bench a
venerable old judge, who was very severe against those who had their
purses cut; (as the phrase then was) and told them that it was by
their negligence that so many purse-cutters came before him. Sir
Thomas, who was a great lover of a joke, contrived to have this
judge's purse cut from him in the sessions house by a felon. When the
felon was arraigned, he told the court, that if he were permitted to
speak to one of the judges in private, he could clear his innocence to
them; they indulged him in his request, and he made choice of this old
judge, and while he whispered something in his ear, he slily cut away
his purse; the judge returned to the bench, and the felon made a sign
to Sir Thomas of his having accomplished the scheme. Sir Thomas moved
the court, that each of them should bestow some alms on a needy person
who then stood falsly accused, and was a real object of compassion.
The motion was agreed to, and when the old man came to put his hand in
his purse, he was astonished to find it gone, and told the court,
that he was sure he had it when he came there. What, says More in
a pleasant manner, do you charge any of us with felony? the judge
beginning to be angry, our facetious author desired the felon, to
return his purse, and advised the old man never to be so bitter
against innocent men's negligence, when he himself could not keep his
purse safe in that open assembly.
Although he lived a courtier, and was much concerned in business, yet
he never neglected his family at home, but instructed his daughters
in all useful learning, and conversed familiarly with them; he was
remarkably fond of his eldest daughter Margaret, as she had a greater
capacity, and sprightlier genius than the rest. His children often
used to translate out of Latin, into English, and out of English into
Latin, and Dr. Stapleton observes, that he hath seen an apology of Sir
Thomas More's to the university of Oxford, in defence of learning,
turned into Latin by one of his daughters, and translated again into
English by another. Margaret, whose wit was superior to the rest, writ
a treatise on the four last things, which Sir Thomas declared was
finer than his; she composed several Orations, especially one in
answer to Quintilian, defending a rich man, which he accused for
having poisoned a poor man's bees with certain venomous flowers in his
garden, so eloquent and forcible that it may justly rival Quintilian
himself. She also translated Eusebius out of Greek.
Tho' Sir Thomas was thus involved in public affairs and domestic
concerns, yet he found leisure to write many books, either against
Heretics, or of a devotional cast; for at that time, what he reckoned
Heresy began to diffuse itself over all Germany and Flanders. He built
a chapel in his parish church at Chelsea, which he constantly attended
in the morning; so steady was he in his devotion. He hired a house
also for many aged people in the parish, which he turned into an
hospital, and supported at his own expence. He at last rose to the
dignity of Lord High Chancellor upon the fall of Wolsey, and while he
sat as the Chief Judge of the nation in one court, his father,
aged upwards of 90, sat as Chief Justice in the King's Bench; a
circumstance which never before, nor ever since happened, of a father
being a Judge, and his son a Chancellor at the same time. Every day,
as the Chancellor went to the Bench, he kneeled before his father, and
asked his blessing. The people soon found the difference between the
intolerable pride of Wolsey, and the gentleness and humility of More;
he permitted every one to approach him without reserve; he dispatched
business with great assiduity, and so cleared the court of tedious
suits, that he more than once came to the Bench, and calling for a
cause, there was none to try. As no dignity could inspire him with
pride, so no application to the most important affairs could divert
him from sallies of humour, and a pleasantry of behaviour. It once
happened, that a beggar's little dog which she had lost, was presented
to lady More, of which me was very fond; but at last the beggar
getting notice where the dog was, she came to complain to Sir Thomas
as he was sitting in his hall, that his lady withheld her dog from
her; presently my lady was sent for, and the dog brought with her,
which he taking in his hand, caused his wife to stand at the upper end
of the hall, and the beggar at the other; he then bad each of them
call the dog, which when they did, the dog went presently to the
beggar, forsaking my lady. When he saw this, he bad my lady be
contented for it was none of hers. My Lord Chancellor then gave the
woman a piece of gold, which would have bought ten such dogs, and bid
her be careful of it for the future.
A friend of his had spent much time in composing a book, and went to
Sir Thomas to have his opinion of it; he desired him to turn it
into rhime; which at the expence of many years labour he at last
accomplished, and came again to have his opinion: Yea marry, says he,
now it is somewhat; now it is rhime, but before it was neither rhime
nor reason.
But fortune, which had been long propitious to our author, began now
to change sides, and try him as well with affliction as prosperity,
in both which characters, his behaviour, integrity and courage were
irreproachable. The amorous monarch King Henry VIII, at last obtained
from his Parliament and Council a divorce from his lawful wife, and
being passionately fond of Anna Bullen, he married her, and declared
her Queen of England: This marriage Sir Thomas had always opposed, and
held it unlawful for his Sovereign to have another wife during his
first wife's life. The Queen who was of a petulant disposition, and
elated with her new dignity could not withhold her resentment against
him, but animated all her relations, and the parties inclined to the
protestant interest, to persecute him with rigour. Not long after the
divorce, the Council gave authority for the publication of a book,
in which the reasons why this divorce was granted were laid down; an
answer was soon published, with which Sir Thomas More was charged as
the author, of which report however he sufficiently cleared himself in
a letter to Mr. Cromwel, then secretary, and a great favourite with
King Henry. In the parliament held in the year 1534, there was an
oath, framed, called the Oath of Supremacy, in which all English
subjects should renounce the pope's authority, and swear also to the
succession of Queen Ann's children, and lady Mary illegitimate. This
oath was given to all the clergy as well bishops as priests, but no
lay-man except Sir Thomas More was desired to take it; he was summoned
to appear at Lambeth before archbishop Cranmer, the Lord Chancellor
Audley, Mr. Secretary Cromwel, and the abbot of Westminster, appointed
commissioners by the King to tender this oath. More absolutely
refused to take it, from a principle of conscience: and after various
expostulations he was ordered into the custody of the abbot of
Westminster; and soon after he was sent to the tower, and the
lieutenant had strict charge to prevent his writing, or holding
conversation with any persons but those sent by the secretary. The
Lord Chancellor, duke of Norfolk, and Mr. Cromwel paid him frequent
visits, and pressed: him to take the oath, which he still refused.
About a year after his commitment to the tower, by the importunity of
Queen Ann, he was arraign'd at the King's Bench Bar, for obstinately
refusing, the oath of supremacy, and wilfully and obstinately opposing
the King's second marriage. He went to the court leaning on his staff,
because he had been much weakened by his imprisonment; his judges
were, Audley, Lord Chancellor; Fitz James, Chief Justice; Sir John
Baldwin, Sir Richard Leister, Sir John Port, Sir John Spelman, Sir
Walter Luke, Sir Anthony Fitzherbert: The King's attorney opened
against him with a very opprobrious libel; the chief evidence were
Mr. secretary Cromwell, to whom he had uttered some disrespectful
expressions of the King's authority, the duke of Suffolk and earl
of Wiltshire: He replied to the accusation with great composure and
strength of argument; and when one Mr. Rich swore against him, he
boldly asserted that Rich was perjured, and wished he might never see
God's Countenance in mercy, if what he asserted was not true; besides
that, Rich added to perjury, the baseness of betraying private
conversation. But notwithstanding his defence, the jury, who were
composed of creatures of the court, brought in their verdict, guilty;
and he had sentence of death pronounced against him, which he
heard without emotion. He then made a long speech addressed to the
Chancellor, and observed to Mr. Rich, that he was more sorry for his
perjury, than for the sentence that had just been pronounced against
him: Rich had been sent by the secretary to take away all Sir Thomas's
books and papers, during which time some conversation passed, which
Rich misrepresented in order to advance himself in the King's favour.
He was ordered again to the Tower till the King's pleasure should be
known. When he landed at Tower Wharf, his favourite daughter Margaret,
who had not seen him since his confinement, came there to take her
last adieu, and forgetting the bashfulness and delicacy of her sex,
press'd thro' the multitude, threw her arms about her father's neck
and often embraced him; they had but little conversation, and their
parting was so moving, that all the spectators dissolved in tears, and
applauded the affection and tenderness of the lady which could enable
her to take her farewel under so many disadvantages.
Some time after his condemnation Mr. secretary Cromwel waited on Sir
Thomas, and entreated him to accept his Majesty's pardon, upon the
condition of taking the oath, and expressed great tenderness towards
him. This visit and seeming friendship of Cromwel not a little
affected him, he revolved in his mind the proposal which he made,
and as his fate was approaching, perhaps his resolution staggered
a little, but calling to mind his former vows, his conscience, his
honour, he recovered himself again, and stood firmly prepared for his
fall. Upon this occasion it was that he wrote the following verses,
mentioned both by Mr. Roper and Mr. Hoddeson, which I shall here
insert as a specimen of his poetry.
Ey flattering fortune, loke thou never so fayre,
Or never so pleasantly begin to smile,
As tho' thou would'st my ruine all repayre,
During my life thou shalt not me begile,
Trust shall I God to entre in a while
His haven of heaven sure and uniforme,
Ever after thy calme loke I for a storme.
On the 6th of July, 1534, in the 54th year of his age, the sentence of
condemnation was executed upon him on Tower Hill, by severing his head
from his body. As he was carried to the scaffold, some low people
hired by his enemies cruelly insulted him, to whom he gave cool and
effectual answers. Being now under the scaffold, he looked at it with
great calmness, and observing it too slenderly built, he said merrily
to Mr. Lieutenant, "I pray you, Sir, see me safe up, and for my
coming down let me shift for myself." When he mounted on the
scaffold, he threw his eyes round the multitude, desired them to pray
for him, and to bear him witness that he died for the holy catholic
church, a faithful servant both to God and the King. His gaiety and
propension to jesting did not forsake him in his last moments; when he
laid his head upon the block, he bad the executioner stay till he
had removed aside his beard, saying, "that that had never committed
treason." When the executioner asked his forgiveness, he kissed him
and said, "thou wilt do me this day a greater benefit than any mortal
man can be able to give me; pluck up thy spirit man, and be not afraid
to do thy office, my neck is very short, take heed therefore that thou
strike not awry for saving thy honesty."
Thus by an honest but mistaken zeal fell Sir Thomas More; a man of wit
and parts superior to all his contemporaries of integrity unshaken;
of a generous and noble disposition; of a courage intrepid; a
great scholar and a devout christian. Wood says that he was but an
indifferent divine, and that he was very ignorant of antiquity and the
learning of the fathers, but he allows him to be a man of a pleasant
and fruitful imagination, and a statesman beyond any that succeeded
him.
His works besides those we have already mentioned are chiefly these,
A Merry Jest, How a Serjeant will learn to play a Friar, written in
verse.
Verses on the hanging of a Painted Cloth in his Father's House.
Lamentations on Elizabeth Queen of Henry VII, 1503.
Verses on the Book of Fortune.
Dialogue concerning Heresies.
Supplication of Souls, writ in answer to a book called the
Supplication of Beggars.
A Confutation of Tindal's Answer to More's Dialogues, printed 1533.
The Debellation of Salem and Bizance, 1533.
In answer to another book of Tindal's.
Treatise on the Passion of Chrift.
----Godly Meditation.
------Devout Prayer.
Letters while in the Tower, all printed 1557.
Progymnasmata.
Responsio ad Convitia Martini Lutheri, 1523.
Quod pro Fide Mors fugienda non est, written in the Tower 1534.
Precationes ex Psalmis.
* * * * *
HENRY HOWARD, Earl of SURRY
Was son of Thomas, duke of Norfolk, and Elizabeth, daughter of Edward,
duke of Buckingham. The father of our author held the highest places
under King Henry VIII, and had so faithfully and bravely served him,
that the nobility grew jealous of his influence, and by their united
efforts produced his ruin. After many excellent services in France, he
was constituted Lord Treasurer, and made General of the King's whole
army design'd to march against the Scots: At the battle of Flodden,
in which the Scots were routed and their Sovereign slain, the earl of
Surry remarkably distinguished himself; he commanded under his father,
and as soon as the jealousy of the Peers had fastened upon the one,
they took care that the other should not escape. He was the first
nobleman (says Camden) that illustrated his high birth with the beauty
of learning; he was acknowledged by all, to be the gallantest man,
the politest lover, and the most compleat gentleman of his time. He
received his education at Windsor with a natural son of Henry VIII,
and became first eminent for his devotion to the beautiful Geraldine,
Maid of Honour to Queen Catherine; the first inspired him with poetry,
and that poetry has conferred immortality on her: So transported was
he with his passion, that he made a tour to the most elegant courts
in Europe, to maintain her peerless beauty against all opposers,
and every where made good his challenge with honour. In his way
to Florence, he touched at the emperor's court, where he became
acquainted with the learned Cornelius Agrippa, so famous for magic,
who shewed him the image of his Geraldine in a glass, sick, weeping on
her bed, and melting into devotion for the absence of her lord; upon
sight of this he wrote the following passionate sonnet, which for
the smoothness of the verse, the tenderness of expression, and the
heartfelt sentiments might do honour to the politest, easiest, most
passionate poet in our own times.
All soul, no earthly flesh, why dost thou fade?
All gold; no earthly dross, why look'st thou
pale?
Sickness how darest thou one so fair invade?
Too base infirmity to work her bale.
Heaven be distempered since she grieved
pines,
Never be dry, these my sad plaintive lines.
Pearch thou my spirit on her silver breasts,
And with their pains redoubled musick beatings,
Let them toss thee to world where all toil rests,
Where bliss is subject to no fears defeatings,
Her praise I tune, whose tongue doth tune
the spheres,
And gets new muses in her hearers ears.
Stars fall to fetch fresh light from the rich eyes,
Her bright brow drives the fun to clouds beneath.
Her hair reflex with red strakes paints the skyes,
Sweet morn and evening dew flows from her
breath:
Phoebe rules tides, she my tears tides forth
draws.
In her sick bed love fits, and maketh laws.
Her dainty lips tinsel her silk-soft sheets,
Her rose-crown'd cheeks eclipse my dazled sight.
O glass with too much joy, my thoughts thou
greets,
And yet thou shewest me day but by twilight.
I'll kiss thee for the kindness I have felt.
Her lips one kiss would into nectar melt.
From the emperor's court he went to the city of Florence, the pride
and glory of Italy, in which city his beauteous Geraldine was born,
and he had no rest till he found out the house of her nativity,
and being shewn the room where his charmer first drew air, he was
transported with extasy of joy, his tongue overflowed with her
praises, and Winstanly says he eclipsed the sun and moon with
comparisons of his Geraldine, and wrote another sonnet in praise
of the chamber that was honoured (as he says) with her radiant
conception; this sonnet is equally amorous and spirited with that
already inserted. In the duke of Florence's court he published a proud
challenge against all comers, whether Christians, Turks, Canibals,
Jews, or Saracens, in defence of his mistress's beauty; this challenge
was the better received there, as she whom he defended was born in
that city: The duke of Florence however sent for him, and enquired of
his fortune, and the intent of his coming to his court; of which when
the earl informed him, he granted to all countries whatever, as well
enemies and outlaws, as friends and allies, free access into his
dominions unmolested till the trial were ended.
In the course of his combats for his mistress, his valour and skill
in arms so engaged the Duke to his interest, that he offered him the
highest preferments if he would remain at his court. This proposal
he rejected, as he intended to proceed thro' all the chief cities in
Italy; but his design was frustrated by letters sent by King Henry
VIII. which commanded his speedy return into England.
In the year 1544, upon the expedition to Boulogne in France, he was
made field marshal of the English army, and after taking that town,
being then knight of the garter, he was in the beginning of September
1545 constituted the King's lieutenant, and captain-general of all his
army within the town and county of Boulogne[1]. During his command
there in 1546, hearing that a convoy of provisions of the enemy was
coming to the fort at Oultreaw, he resolved to intercept it; but
the Rhinegrave, with four thousand Lanskinets, together with a
considerable number of French under the de Bieg, making an obstinate
defence, the English were routed, Sir Edward Poynings with divers
other gentlemen killed, and the Earl himself obliged to fly, tho' it
appears, by a letter to the King dated January 8, 1548, that this
advantage cost the enemy a great number of men. But the King was
so highly displeased with this ill success, that from that time he
contracted a prejudice against the Earl, and soon after removed him
from his command, and appointed the Earl of Hertford to succeed him.
Upon which Sir William Page wrote to the Earl of Surry to advise him
to procure some eminent post under the Earl of Hertford, that he might
not be unprovided in the town and field. The Earl being desirous in
the mean time to regain his former favour with the King, skirmished
with the French and routed them, but soon after writing over to the
King's council that as the enemy had cast much larger cannon than had
been yet seen, with which they imagined they should soon demolish
Boulogne, it deserved consideration whether the lower town should
stand, as not being defensible; the council ordered him to return to
England in order to represent his sentiments more fully upon those
points, and the Earl of Hertford was immediately sent over in his
room. This exasperating the Earl of Surry, occasioned him to let fall
some expressions which favoured of revenge and dislike to the King,
and a hatred of his Councellors, and was probably one cause of his
ruin, which soon after ensued. The Duke of Norfolk, who discovered the
growing power of the Seymours, and the influence they were likely
to bear in the next reign, was for making an alliance with them; he
therefore pressed his son to marry the Earl of Hertford's daughter,
and the Dutchess of Richmond, his own daughter, to marry Sir Thomas
Seymour; but neither of these matches were effected, and the Seymours
and Howards then became open enemies. The Seymours failed not to
inspire the King with an aversion to the Norfolk-family, whose power
they dreaded, and represented the ambitious views of the Earl of
Surry; but to return to him as a poet.
That celebrated antiquary, John Leland, speaking of Sir Thomas Wyat
the Elder, calls the Earl, 'The conscript enrolled heir of the said
Sir Thomas, in his learning and other excellent qualities.' The author
of a treatise, entitled, 'The Art of English Poetry, alledges, that
Sir Thomas Wyat the Elder, and Henry Earl of Surry were the two
chieftains, who having travelled into Italy, and there tasted the
sweet and stately measures and stile of the Italian poetry, greatly
polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poetry, from what it had
been before, and therefore may be justly called, The Reformers of our
English Poetry and Stile.' Our noble author added to learning, wisdom,
fortitude, munificence, and affability. Yet all these excellencies of
character, could not prevent his falling a sacrifice to the jealousy
of the Peers, or as some say to the resentment of the King for his
attempting to wed the Princess Mary; and by these means to raise
himself to the Crown. History is silent as to the reasons why the
gallantries he performed for Geraldine did not issue in a marriage.
Perhaps the reputation he acquired by arms, might have enflamed
his soul with a love of glory; and this conjecture seems the more
probable, as we find his ambition prompting him to make love to
the Princess from no other views but those of dominion. He married
Frances, daughter to John Earl of Oxford, after whose death he
addressed Princess Mary, and his first marriage, perhaps, might be
owing to a desire of strengthening his interest, and advancing his
power in the realm. The adding some part of the royal arms to his own,
was also made a pretence against him, but in this he was justified by
the heralds, as he proved that a power of doing so was granted by some
preceeding Monarchs to his forefathers. Upon the strength of these
suspicions and surmises, he and his father were committed to the Tower
of London, the one by water, the other by land, so that they knew
not of each other's apprehension. The fifteenth day of January next
following he was arraigned at Guildhall, where he was found guilty by
twelve common jurymen, and received judgment. About nine days before
the death of the King he lost his head on Tower-Hill; and had not that
Monarch's decease so soon ensued, the fate of his father was likewise
determined to have been the same with his sons.
It is said, when a courtier asked King Henry why he was so zealous in
taking off Surry; "I observed him, says he, an enterprizing youth; his
spirit was too great to brook subjection, and 'tho' I can manage him,
yet no successor of mine will ever be able to do so; for which reason
I have dispatched him in my own time."
He was first interred in the chapel of the Tower, and afterwards in
the reign of King James, his remains were removed to Farmingam in
Suffolk, by his second son Henry Earl of Northampton, with this
epitaph.
Henrico Howardo, Thomæ secundi Ducis Norfolciæ filio primogenito.
Thomæ tertii Patri, Comiti Surriæ, & Georgiani Ordinis Equiti Aurato,
immature Anno Salutis 1546 abrepto. Et Franciscæ Uxoris ejus, filiæ
Johannis Comitis Oxoniæ. Henricus Howardus Comes Northamptoniæ filius
secundo genitus, hoc supremum pietatis in parentes monumentum posuit,
A.D. 1614.
Upon the accession of Queen Mary the attainder was taken off his
father, which circumstance has furnished some people with an
opportunity to say, that the princess was fond of, and would have
married, the Earl of Surry. I shall transcribe the act of repeal as I
find it in Collins's Peerage of England, which has something singular
enough in it.
'That there was no special matter in the Act of Attainder, but only
general words of treason and conspiracy: and that out of their care
for the preservation of the King and the Prince they passed it, and
this Act of Repeal further sets forth, that the only thing of which he
stood charged, was for bearing of arms, which he and his ancestors had
born within and without the kingdom in the King's presence, and sight
of his progenitors, as they might lawfully bear and give, as by good
and substantial matter of record it did appear. It also added, that
the King died after the date of the commission; likewise that he only
empowered them to give his consent; but did not give it himself; and
that it did not appear by any record that they gave it. Moreover, that
the King did not sign the commission with his own hand, his stamp
being only set to it, and that not to the upper part, but to the
nether part of it, contrary to the King's custom.'
Besides the amorous and other poetical pieces of this noble author, he
translated Virgil's Æneid, and rendered (says Wood) the first, second,
and third book almost word for word:--All the Biographers of the
poets have been lavish, and very justly, in his praise; he merits the
highest encomiums as the refiner of our language, and challenges the
gratitude and esteem of every man of literature, for the generous
assistance he afforded it in its infancy, and his ready and liberal
patronage to all men of merit in his time.
[Footnote 1: Dugdale's Baronage.]
* * * * *
Sir THOMAS WYAT.
Was distinguished by the appellation of the Elder, as there was one of
the same name who raised a rebellion in the time of Queen Mary. He
was son to Henry Wyat of Alington-castle in Kent. He received the
rudiments of his education at Cambridge, and was afterwards placed at
Oxford to finish it. He was in great esteem with King Henry VIII. on
account of his wit and Love Elegies, pieces of poetry in which he
remarkably succeeded. The affair of Anne Bullen came on, when he made
some opposition to the King's passion for her, that was likely to
prove fatal to him; but by his prudent behaviour, and retracting
what he had formerly advanced, he was restored again to his royal
patronage. He was cotemporary with the Earl of Surry, who held him in
high esteem. He travelled into foreign parts, and as we have observed
in the Earl of Surry's life, he added something towards refining the
English stile, and polishing our numbers, tho' he seems not to have
done so much in that way as his lordship. Pitts and Bale have entirely
neglected him, yet for his translation of David's Psalms into English
metre and other poetical works, Leland scruples not to compare him
with Dante and Petrarch, by giving him this ample commendation.
Let Florence fair her Dantes justly boast,
And royal Rome, her Petrarchs numbered feet,
In English Wyat both of them doth coast:
In whom all graceful eloquence doth meet.
Leland published all his works under the title of Nænia. Some of his
Biographers (Mrs. Cooper and Winstanley) say that he died of the
plague as he was going on an embassy to the Emperor Charles V. but
Wood asserts, that he was only sent to Falmo by the King to meet the
Spanish ambassador on the road, and conduct him to the court, which it
seems demanded very great expedition; that by over-fatiguing himself,
he was thrown into a fever, and in the thirty-eighth year of his age
died in a little country-town in England, greatly lamented by all
lovers of learning and politeness. In his poetical capacity, he does
not appear to have much imagination, neither are his verses so musical
and well polished as lord Surry's. Those of gallantry in particular
seem to be too artificial and laboured for a lover, without that
artless simplicity which is the genuine mark of feeling; and too
stiff, and negligent of harmony for a His letters to John Poynes and
Sir Francis Bryan deserve more notice, they argue him a man of great
sense and honour, a critical observer of manners and well-qualified
for an elegant and genteel satirist. These letters contain
observations on the Courtier's Life, and I shall quote a few lines as
a specimen, by which it will be seen how much he falls short of
his noble cotemporary, lord Surry, and is above those writers that
preceded him in versification.
The COURTIERS LIFE.
In court to serve decked with fresh araye,
Of sugared meats seling the sweet repast,
The life in blankets, and sundry kinds of playe,
Amidst the press the worldly looks to waste,
Hath with it joyned oft such bitter taste,
That whoso joys such kind of life to holde,
In prison joys, fetter'd with chains of golde.
* * * * *
THOMAS SACKVILLE, Earl DORSET
Was son of Richard Sackville and Winifrede, daughter of Sir John
Bruges, Lord of London.[1] He was born at Buckhurst in the parish of
Withiam in Suffex, and from his childhood was distinguished for wit
and manly behaviour: He was first of the University of Oxford, but
taking no degree there, he went to Cambridge, and commenced master of
arts; he afterwards studied the law in the Inner-Temple, and became a
barrister; but his genius being too lively to be confined to a dull
plodding study, he chose rather to dedicate his hours to poetry and
pleasure; he was the first that wrote scenes in verse, the Tragedy of
Ferrex and Perrex, sons to Gorboduc King of Britain, being performed
in the presence of Queen Elizabeth, long before Shakespear appeared[2]
on the stage, by the Gentlemen of the Inner-Temple, at Whitehall the
18th of January, 1561, which Sir Philip Sidney thus characterises: "It
is full of stately speeches, and well founding phrases, climbing to
the height of Seneca's stile, and as full of notable morality, which
it doth most delightfully teach, and so obtain the very end of
poetry." In the course of his studies, he was most delighted with the
history of his own country, and being likewise well acquainted with
antient history, he formed a design of writing the lives of several
great personages in verse, of which we have a specimen in a book
published 1610, called the Mirror of Magistrates, being a true
Chronicle History of the untimely falls of such unfortunate princes
and men of note, as have happened since the first entrance of Brute
into this Island until his own time. It appears by a preface of
Richard Nicolls, that the original plan of the Mirror of Magistrates
was principally owing to him, a work of great labour, use and beauty.
The induction, from which I shall quote a few lines, is indeed a
master-piece, and if the-whole could have been compleated in the same
manner, it would have been an honour to the nation to this day, nor
could have sunk under the ruins of time; but the courtier put an end
to the poet; and one cannot help wishing for the sake of our national
reputation, that his rise at court had been a little longer delayed:
It may easily be seen that allegory was brought to great perfection
before the appearance of Spencer, and if Mr. Sackville did not
surpass him, it was because he had the disadvantage of writing first.
Agreeable to what Tasso exclaimed on seeing Guarini's Pastor Fido; 'If
he had not seen my Aminta, he had not excelled it.'
Our author's great abilities being distinguished at court, he was
called to public affairs: In the 4th and 5th years of Queen Mary we
find him in parliament; in the 5th year of Elizabeth, when his
father was chosen for Sussex, he was returned one of the Knights of
Buckinghamshire to the parliament then held. He afterwards travelled
into foreign parts, and was detained for some time prisoner at Rome.
His return into England being procured, in order to take possession of
the vast inheritance his father left him, he was knighted by the duke
of Norfolk in her Majesty's presence[3] 1567, and at the same day
advanced to the degree and dignity of a baron of this realm, by the
title of lord Buckhurst: He was of so profuse a temper, that though he
then enjoyed a great estate, yet by his magnificent way of living he
spent more than the income of it, and[4] a story is told of him, 'That
calling on an alderman of London, who had got very considerably by the
loan of his money to him, he was obliged to wait his coming down
so long, as made such an impression on his generous humour, that
thereupon he turned a thrifty improver of his estate.' But others
make him the convert of Queen Elizabeth, (to whom he was allied, his
grandfather having married a lady related to Ann Bullen) who by her
frequent admonitions diverted the torrent of his profusion, and then
received him into her particular favour. Camden says, that in the 14th
of that Princess, he was sent ambassador to Charles IX King of France,
to congratulate his marriage with the Emperor Maximilian's daughter,
and on other important affairs where he was honourably received,
according to his Queen's merit and his own; and having in company
Guido Cavalcanti, a Gentleman of Florence, a person of great
experience, and the Queen-mother being a Florentine, a treaty of
marriage was publickly transacted between Queen Elizabeth and her
son the duke of Anjou. In the 15th of her Majesty he was one of the
peers[5] that sat on the trial of Thomas Howard duke of Norfolk,[6]
and on the 29th of Elizabeth, was nominated one of the commissioners
for the trial of Mary Queen of Scots, and at that time was of the
privy council, but his lordship is not mentioned amongst the peers
who met at Fotheringay Castle and condemned the Queen; yet when the
parliament had confirmed the sentence, he was made choice of to convey
the news to her Majesty, and see their determination put in execution
against that beauteous Princess; possibly because he was a man of fine
accomplishments, and tenderness of disposition, and could manage so
delicate a point with more address than any other courtier. In the
succeeding year he was sent ambassador to the States of the United
Provinces, upon their dislike of the earl of Leicester's proceedings
in a great many respects, there to examine the business, and compose
the difference: He faithfully discharged this invidious office, but
thereby incurred the earl of Leicester's displeasure; who prevailed
with the Queen, as he was her favourite, to call the lord Buckhurst
home, and confine him to his house for nine months; but surviving
that earl, the Queen's favour returned, and he was elected the April
following, without his knowledge, one of the Knights of the most noble
Order of the Garter. He was one of the peers that sat on the trial of
Philip Howard, earl of Arundel. In the 4th year of the Queen's reign
he was joined with the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, in promoting a peace
with Spain; in which trust he was so successful, that the High Admiral
of Holland was sent over by the States, of the United Provinces, to
renew their treaty with the crown of England, being afraid of its
union with Spain. Lord Buckhurst had the sole management of that
negotiation (as Burleigh then lay sick) and Concluded a treaty with
him, by which his mistress was eased of no less than 120,000 l. per
annum, besides other advantages.
His lordship succeeded Sir Christopher Hatton, in the Chancellorship
of the university of Oxford, in opposition to Robert Devereux, earl
of Essex, Master of the Horse to the Queen, who a little before was
incorporated master of arts in the said university, to capacitate him
for that office; but on receipt of letters from her Majesty in favour
of lord Buckhurst, the Academicians elected him Chancellor on the
17th of December following. On the death of lord Burleigh, the Queen
considering the great services he had done his country, which had cost
him immense expences, was pleased to constitute him in the 41st year
of her reign, Lord High Treasurer of England: In the succeeding year
1599, he was in commission with Sir Thomas Egerton, Lord Chancellor,
and the earl of Essex, Earl-Marshal, for negotiating affairs with the
Senate of Denmark, as also in a special commission for suppressing
schism, and afterwards when libels were dispersed by the earl of Essex
and his faction against the Queen, intimating that her Majesty took
little care of the government, and altogether neglected the state of
Ireland,[7] his lordship engaged in a vindication of her Majesty,
and made answers to these libels, representing how brave and well
regulated an army had been sent into Ireland, compleatly furnished
with all manner of provisions, and like wise that her Majesty had
expended on that war in six months time, the sum of 600,000 l. which
lord Essex must own to be true. He suspected that earl's mutinous
designs, by a greater concourse of people resorting to his house than
ordinary, and sent his son to pay him a visit,[8] and to desire him
to be careful of the company he kept. Essex being sensible that
his scheme was already discovered by the penetrating eye of lord
Buckhurst, he and his friends entered upon new measures, and breaking
out into an open rebellion, were obliged to surrender themselves
prisoners. When that unfortunate favourite, together with the earl of
Southampton, was brought to trial, lord Buckhurst was constituted on
that occasion Lord High Steward of England, and passing sentence on
the earl of Essex, his Lordship in a very eloquent speech desired him
to implore the Queen's mercy. After this, it being thought necessary
for the safety of the nation, that some of the leading conspirators
should suffer death, his Lordship advised her Majesty to pardon the
rest. Upon this he had a special commission granted him, together with
secretary Cecil, and the earl of Nottingham, Lord High Admiral, to
call before them all such as were concerned in the conspiracy with the
earls of Essex and Southampton, and to treat and compound with such
offenders for the redemption and composition of their lands. After the
death of Queen Elizabeth, his lordship was concerned in taking the
necessary measures for the security of the kingdom, the administration
being devolved on him and other counsellors, who unanimously
proclaimed King James, and signed a letter March 28, 1603 to the lord
Eure, and the rest of the commissioners, for the treaty of Breme,
notifying her majesty's decease, and the recognition and proclamation
of King James of Scotland: who had such a sense of lord Buckhurst's
services, and superior abilities, that before his arrival in England,
he ordered the renewal of his patent, as Lord High Treasurer for life.
On the 13th of March next ensuing, he was created earl of Dorset,
and constituted one of the commissioners for executing the office
of Earl-Marshal of England, and for reforming sundry abuses in the
College of Arms.
In the year 1608, this great man died suddenly at the Council-Table,
Whitehall, after a bustling life devoted to the public weal; and the
26th of May following, his remains were deposited with great solemnity
in Westminster Abbey, his funeral sermon being preached by Dr. Abbot,
his chaplain, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Besides this
celebrated sermon of the primate's, in which he is very lavish in
his praise, Lord Chancellor Bacon, and Sir Robert Naunton, bestow
particular encomiums upon him; and Sir Richard Paker observes, "That
he had excellent parts, and in his place was exceeding industrious,
and that he had heard many exchequer men say, there never was a better
Treasurer, both for the King's profit, and the good of the subject."
By his dying suddenly at the Council-Table, his death was interpreted
by some people in a mysterious manner;[9] but his head being opened,
there were found in it certain little bags of water, which, whether by
straining in his study the night before, in which he sat up till 11
o'clock, or otherwise by their own maturity, suddenly breaking, and
falling upon his brain, produced his death, to the universal grief
of the nation, for which he had spent his strength, and for whose
interest, in a very immediate manner, he may be justly said to have
fallen a sacrifice. Of all our court poets he seems to have united the
greatest industry and variety of genius: It is seldom found, that the
sons of Parnassus can devote themselves to public business, or execute
it with success. I have already observed, that the world has lost many
excellent works, which no doubt this cultivated genius would have
accomplished, had he been less involved in court-affairs: but as
he acted in so public a sphere, and discharged every office with
inviolable honour, and consummate prudence, it is perhaps somewhat
selfish in the lovers of poetry, to wish he had wrote more, and acted
less. From him is descended the present noble family of the Dorsets;
and it is remarkable, that all the descendants of this great man have
inherited his taste for liberal arts and sciences, as well as his
capacity for public business. An heir of his was the friend and patron
of Dryden, and is stiled by Congreve the monarch of wit in his time,
and the present age is happy in his illustrious posterity, rivalling
for deeds of honour and renown the most famous of their ancestors.
* * * * *
INDUCTION to the MIRROR Of MAGISTRATES.
The wrathful winter hast'ning on apace,
With blustring blasts had all ybard the treene,
And old Saturnus with his frosty face
With chilling cold had pearst the tender greene:
The mantles rent, wherein enwrapped been,
The gladsome groves, that now lay overthrown,
The tapets torn, and every tree down blown.
The soil that erst so seemly was to seen,
Was all despoiled of her beauteous hew,
And soote fresh flowers wherewith the summers
queen,
Had clad the earth, new Boreas blasts down blew
And small fowls flocking in their songs did rew
The winter's wrath, wherewith each thing
defaste,
In woeful wise bewailed the summer past.
[Footnote 1: Fuller's Worthies, p.105]
[Footnote 2: Wood Ath. Qx. præd.]
[Footnote 3: Collins's peerage, 519.]
[Footnote 4: Ib. 519.]
[Footnote 5: Rapin's History of England, p. 437.]
[Footnote 6: This nobleman suffered death for a plot to recover the
liberty of the Queen of Scots.]
[Footnote 7: Rapin's History of England, vol ii. p. 617.]
[Footnote 8: Rapin'a History of England, vol. ii. p. 630.]
[Footnote 9: Chron. 2d edit. p. 596.]
* * * * *
THOMAS CHURCHYARD,
One of the assistants in the Mirror of Magistrates. He was born in the
town of Shrewsbury[1] as himself affirms in his book made in verse of
the Worthiness of Wales. He was equally addicted to arts and arms;
he had a liberal education, and inherited some fortune, real and
personal; but he soon exhausted it, in a tedious and unfruitful
attendance at court, for he gained no other equivalent for that
mortifying dependance, but the honour of being retained a domestic
in the family of lord Surry: during which time by his lordship's
encouragement he commenced poet. Upon his master's death he betook
himself to arms; was in many engagements, and was frequently wounded;
he was twice a prisoner, and redeemed by the charity of two noble
ladies, yet still languishing in distress, and bitterly complaining of
fortune. Neither of his employments afforded him a patron, who would
do justice to his obscure merit; and unluckily he was as unhappy in
his amours as in his circumstances, some of his mistresses treating
his addresses with contempt, perhaps, on account of his poverty;
for tho' it generally happens that Poets have the greatest power in
courtship, as they can celebrate their mistresses with more elegance
than people of any other profession; yet it very seldom falls out that
they marry successfully, as their needy circumstances naturally deter
them from making advances to Ladies of such fashion as their genius
and manners give them a right to address. This proved our author's
case exactly; he made love to a widow named Browning, who possessed a
very good jointure; but this lady being more in love with money than
laurels, with wealth than merit, rejected his suit; which not a little
discouraged him, as he had spent his money in hopes of effecting this
match, which, to his great mortification, all his rhimes and sonnets
could not do. He dedicated his vorks to Sir Christopher Hatton; but
addresses of that nature don't always imply a provision for their
author. It is conjectured that he died about the eleventh year of
Queen Elizabeth, and according to Mr. Wood was buried near Skelton
in the Chancel of St. Margaret's, Westminster. By his writings, he
appears a man of sense, and sometimes a poet, tho' he does not seem to
possess any degree of invention. His language is generally pure, and
his numbers not wholly inharmonious. The Legend of Jane Shore is the
most finished of all his works, from which I have taken a quotation.
His death, according to the most probable conjecture, happened in
1570. Thus like a stone (says Winstanley) did he trundle about, but
never gathered any moss, dying but poor, as may be seen by his epitaph
in Mr. Camden's Remains, which runs thus:
Come Alecto, lend me thy torch
To find a Church-yard in a Church-porch;
Poverty and poetry his tomb doth enclose,
Wherefore good neighbours, be merry in prose.
His works according to Winstanley are as follow:
The Siege of Leith.
A Farewell to the world.
A feigned Fancy of the Spider and the Gaul.
A doleful Discourse of a Lady and a Knight.
The Road into Scotland, by Sir William Drury.
Sir Simon Burley's Tragedy.
A lamentable Description of the Wars in Flanders in prose, and
dedicated to Walsingham secretary of state.
A light Bundle of lively Discourses, called Churchyard's Charge 1580,
dedicated to his noble patron the Earl of Surry.
A Spark of Friendship, a treatise on that writer, address'd to Sir
Walter Raleigh.
A Description and Discourse on the use of paper, in which he praises a
paper-mill built near Darthsend, by a German called Spillman.
The Honour of the Law 1596.
Jane Shore, mistress to King Edward IV.
A Tragical Discourse of the unhappy Man's Life.
A Discourse of Virtue.
Churchyard's Dream.
A Tale of a Fryar and a Shoemaker's Wife,
The Siege of Edinburgh Castle.
Queen Elizabeth's reception into Bristol.
These twelve several pieces he bound together, calling them
Churchyard's Chips, which he dedicated to Sir Christopher Hatton. He
wrote beside,
The Tragedy of Thomas Moubray Duke of
Norfolk.
Among the rest by fortune overthrowne,
I am not least, that most may waile her fate:
My fame and brute, abroad the world is
blowne,
Who can forget a thing thus done so late?
My great mischance, my fall, and heavy state,
Is such a marke whereat each tongue doth shoot
That my good name, is pluckt up by the root,
[Footnote 1: Winst. 61.]
* * * * *
JOHN HEYWOOD
One of the first who wrote English plays, was a noted jester, of some
reputation in poetry in his time. Wood says, that notwithstanding he
was stiled Civis Londinensis, yet he laid a foundation of learning at
Oxford, but the severity of an academical life not suitng with his
airy genius, he retired to his native place, and had the honour to
have a great intimacy with Sir Thomas More. It is said, that he had
admirable skill both in instrumental and vocal music, but it is not
certain whether he left any compositions of that sort behind him. He
found means to become a favourite with King Henry VIII on account
of the quickness of his conceits, and was well rewarded by that
Monarch.[1] After the accession of Queen Mary to the throne, he
was equally valued by her, and was admitted into the most intimate
conversation with her, in diverting her by his merry stories, which he
did, even when she lay languishing on her death-bed. After the decease
of that princess, he being a bigotted Roman Catholic, and finding the
protestant interest was like to prevail under the patronage of the
renowned Queen Elizabeth, he sacrificed the enjoyment of living in his
own country, to that of his religion: For he entered into a voluntary
exile, and settled at Mechlin in Brabant.
The Play called the Four P's being a new and and merry interlude of
a Palmer, Pardoner, Poticary, and Pedler--printed in an old English
character in quarto, has in the title page the pictures of four men in
old-fashioned habits, wrought off, from a wooden cut. He has likewise
writ the following interludes.
Between John the Husband and Tib the Wife.
Between the Pardoner and the Fryer, the Curate
and neighbouring Pratt.
Play of Gentleness and Nobility, in two parts.
The Pindar of Wakefield, a comedy.
Philotas Scotch, a comedy.
This author also wrote a dialogue, containing the number in effect of
all the proverbs in the English tongue, compact in a matter concerning
two manner of marriages. London 1547, and 1598, in two parts in
quarto, all writ in old English verse, and printed in an English
character.
Three hundred epigrams upon three hundred proverbs, in old English
character.
A fourth hundred of epigrams, printed in quarto, London 1598.
A fifth hundred of epigrams, printed in quarto, London 1598.
The Spider and Fly. A Parable of the Spider and Fly, London 1556, in a
pretty thick quarto, all in old English verse. Before the title is the
picture of John Heywood at full length, printed from a wooden cut,
with a fur gown on, almost representing the fashion of that, belonging
to a master of arts, but the bottom of the sleeve reach no lower than
his knees; on his head is a round cap, his chin and lips are close
shaved, and hath a dagger hanging to his girdle.[2]
Dr. Fuller mentions a book writ by our author,[3] entitled Monumenta
Literaria, which are said to Non tam labore, condita, quam Lepore
condita: The author of English poetry, speaking of several of our old
English bards, says thus of our poet. "John Heywood for the mirth and
quickness of conceit, more than any good learning that was in him,
came to be well rewarded by the king."
That the reader may judge of his epigrams, to which certainly the
writer just mentioned alludes, I shall present him with one writ by
him on himself.
Art thou Heywood, with thy mad merry wit?
Yea for sooth master, that name is even hit.
Art thou Heywood, that apply's mirth more than
thrift?
Yes sir, I take merry mirth, a golden gift.
Art thou Heywood, that hast made many mad
plays?
Yea many plays, few good works in my days.
Art thou Heywood, that hath made men merry
long?
Yea, and will, if I be made merry among.
Art thou Heywood, that would'st be made merry
now?
Yes, Sir, help me to it now, I beseech you.
He died at Mechlin, in the year 1565, and was buried there, leaving
behind him several children, to whom he had given liberal education,
one of whom is Jasper, who afterwards made a considerable figure, and
became a noted Jesuit.
[Footnote 1: Wood Athen, Oxon.]
[Footnote 2: Wood ubi supra.]
[Footnote 3: Worthies of London, p. 221.]
* * * * *
GEORGE FERRARS,
Descended of an ancient family seated in Hertfordshire, was born there
in a village not far from St. Alban's about the year 1510[1]. He was
a lawyer, a historian, and a poet; he received his education at the
university of Oxford, but of what college he was Wood himself has not
been able to discover; he removed from thence to Lincolns'-Inn, where,
by a diligent application to the law, he made considerable progress in
his profession, and by the patronage of that great minister Cromwell
Earl of Essex, who was himself a man of astonishing abilities, he soon
made a figure at the bar. He was the menial servant of King Henry
VIII.[2] and discharged his trust both in time of war and peace with
great honour and gallantry, and shared that monarch's favour in a very
considerable degree, who made him a grant in his own country, as an
evidence of his affection for him. This grant of the King's happened
in the year 1535; and yet in seven years afterwards, either thro' want
of economy, or by a boundless confidence in his friends, he reduced
his affairs to a very indifferent situation, which, perhaps, might
be the reason, why he procured himself to be chosen Member for the
Borough of Plymouth in the county of Devon,[3] in the Parliament
summoned the thirty-third year of that King's reign. During the
Sessions he had the misfortune to be arrested by an officer belonging
to the Sheriffs of London, and carried to the counter, then in
Bread-street. No sooner had the House of Commons got notice of this
insult offered to one of their Members, than they immediately enacted
a settled rule, which from that accident took place, with respect to
privilege, and ever since that time the Members of the House have
been exempt from arrests for debt. His Majesty likewise resented
the affront offered to his servant, and with the concurrence of the
Parliament proceeded very severely against the Sheriffs.
Hollinshed in his chronicle, vol 2, p. 955, gives a very full account
of it. Sir Thomas Moils, knight, then Speaker of the House, gave a
special order to the Serjeant of the Parliament to repair to
the Compter, and there demand the delivery of the prisoner. But
notwithstanding this high authority, the officers in the city refused
to obey the command, and after many altercations, they absolutely
resisted the Serjeant, upon which a fray ensued within the
Compter-gates, between Ferrars and the officers, not without mutual
hurt, so that the Serjeant was driven to defend himself with his mace
of arms, and had the crown of it broken with warding off a stroke; the
Sheriffs of London so far from appeasing, fomented the quarrel, and
with insolent language refused to deliver their prisoner: Upon which
the Serjeant, thus abused, returned to the House and related what had
happened. This circumstance so exasperated the Burgesses, that they
all rose and went into the Upper House, and declared they would
transact no more business till their Member was restored to them. They
then commanded their Serjeant again to go to the Compter with his
mace, and make a second demand by their authority.--The Sheriffs
hearing that the Upper House hid concerned themselves in it, and being
afraid of their resentment, restored the prisoner before the Serjeant
had time to return to the Compter; but this did not satisfy the
Burgesses, they summoned the Sheriffs before them, together with one
White, who in contempt of their dignity had taken out a writ against
Ferrars, and as a punishment for their insolence, they were sent to
the Tower; and ever since that period, the power and privilege of the
Commons have been on the increase.
Ferrars continued in high favour with Henry during the remainder of
his reign, and seems to have stood upon good terms with Somerset Lord
Protector in the beginning of Edward VI. since it appears that he
attended the Protector in quality of one of the Commissioners of the
Army, in his expedition into Scotland in 1548,[4] which, perhaps,
might be owing to his being about the person of Prince Edward in his
father's life-time. Another instance of this happened about four years
afterwards, at a very critical juncture, for when the unfortunate Duke
of Somerset lay under sentence of death, and it was observed that the
people murmured and often gave testimonies of discontent, and that the
King himself was very uneasy, those about him studied every method
to quiet and amuse the one, to entertain and divert the other[5]. In
order to this, at the entrance of Christmas holidays, Mr. Ferrars
was proclaimed Lord Misrule, that is a kind of Prince of sports and
pastimes, which office he discharged for twelve days together at
Greenwich with great magnificence and address, and entirely to the
King's satisfaction.
In this character, attended by the politest part of the Court, he made
an excursion to London, where he was splendidly entertained by the
Lord Mayor, and when he took his leave he had presents given him in
token of respect. But notwithstanding he made so great figure in
the diversions at court, yet he was no idle spectator of political
affairs, and maintained his reputation with the learned world. He
wrote the reign of Queen Mary, which tho' published in the name of
Richard Grafton, in his chronicles; yet was certainly the performance
of Ferrars, according to the annals of Stow, p. 632, whose authority
in this case is very high. Our author was an historian, a lawyer, and
a politician even in his poetry, as appears from these pieces of his
which are inserted in the Mirror of Magistrates, and which are not
inferior to any others that have found a place there[6]. In the early
part of his life he wrote some tracts on his own profession, which
gained him great reputation, and which discover that he was a lover
of liberty, and not disposed to sacrifice to the crown the rights and
properties of the subject. It seldom happens that when a man often
changes his situation, or is forced to do so, that he continues
to preserve the good opinion of different parties, but this was a
happiness which Ferrars enjoyed. He was consulted by the learned as a
candid critic, admired and loved by all who conversed with him.
With respect to the time of our author's death, we cannot be
absolutely certain; all we know is, that he died in the year 1579, at
his house in Flamstead in Hertfordshire, and was buried in the parish
church; for as Wood informs us, on the eighteenth of May the same
year a commission was granted from the prerogative, to administer the
goods, debts, chattles, etc. of George Ferrars lately deceased[7].
None of our authors deliver any thing as to Mr. Ferrars's religion,
but it is highly probable that he was a zealous Protestant: not from
his accepting grants of Abbey-lands, for that is but a precarious
proof, but from his coming into the world under the protection of
Thomas Lord Cromwell, who was certainly persuaded of the truth of the
protestant religion.
Having this occasion to mention Thomas Lord Cromwell, the famous Earl
of Essex, who was our author's warmest patron, I am persuaded my
readers will forgive me a digression which will open to them the
noblest instance of gratitude and honour in that worthy nobleman, that
ever adorned the page of an historian, and which has been told with
rapture by all who have writ of the times, particularly by Dr. Burnet
in his history of the Reformation, and Fox in his Martyrology.--Thomas
Lord Cromwell was the son of a Blacksmith at Putney, and was a soldier
under the duke of Bourbon at the sacking of Rome in the year 1527.
While he was abroad in a military character, in a very low station, he
fell sick, and was unable to follow the army; he was observed one
day by an Italian merchant to walk very pensive, and had all the
appearance of penury and wretchedness: The merchant enquired of
him the place of his birth, and fortune, and upon conversing with
Cromwell, was so well pleased with the account he gave of himself,
that he supplied him with money and credit to carry him to England.
Cromwell afterwards made the most rapid progress in state-preferments
ever known. Honours were multiplied thick upon him, and he came to
have the dispensing of his sovereign's bounty. It happened, that this
Italian merchant's circumstances decayed, and he came to England to
sollicit the payment of some debts due to him by his correspondents;
who finding him necessitous, were disposed to put him off, and take
the advantage of his want, to avoid payment. This not a little
embarrassed the foreigner, who was now in a situation forlorn enough.
As providence would have it, lord Cromwell, then Earl of Essex, riding
to court, saw this merchant walking with a dejected countenance, which
put him in mind of his former situation. He immediately ordered one
of his attendants to desire the merchant to come to his house. His
lordship asked the merchant whether he knew him? he answered no:
Cromwell then related the circumstance of the merchant's relieving
a certain Englishman; and asked if he remembered it? The merchant
answered, that he had always made it his business to do good, but did
not remember that circumstance.--His lordship then enquired the reason
of his coming to England, and upon the merchant's telling him his
story, he so interested himself, as soon to procure the payment of all
his debts.--Cromwell then informed the merchant, that he was himself
the person he had thus relieved; and for every Ducat which the
merchant had given him, he returned to the value of a hundred, telling
him, that this was the payment of his debt. He then made him a
munificent present, and asked him whether he chose to settle in
England, or return to his own country. The foreigner chose the latter,
and returned to spend the remainder of his days in competence and
quiet, after having experienced in lord Essex as high an instance of
generosity and gratitude as perhaps ever was known. This noble act of
his lordship, employed, says Burnet, the pens of the belt writers at
that time in panegyrics on so great a behaviour; the finest poets
praised him; his most violent enemies could not help admiring him, and
latest posterity shall hold the name of him in veneration, who was
capable of so generous an act of honour. But to return to Ferrars.
In our author's history of the reign of Queen Mary, tho' he shews
himself a great admirer of the personal virtues of that Princess, and
a very discerning and able historian, yet it is every where evident
that he was attached to the protestant interest; but more especially
in the learned account he gives of Archbishop Cranmer's death, and
Sir Thomas Wyat's insurrection[8]. The works of this author which are
printed in the Mirror of Magistrates, are as follow;
The Fall of Robert Tresilian, Chief Justice of
England, for misconstruing the laws, and expounding
them to serve the prince's affections.
The Tragedy, or unlawful murther of Thomas
of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester.
The Tragedy of Richard II.
The Story of Dame Eleanor Cobham, Duchess
of Gloucester.
The Story of Humphry Plantagenet, Duke of
Gloucester, Protector of England.
The Tragedy of Edmund Duke of Somerset.
Among these the Complaints of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester,
who was banished for consulting Conjurers and Fortune-tellers about
the Life of King Henry VI. and whose exile quickly made way for the
murder of her husband, has of all his compositions been most admired;
and from this I shall quote a few lines which that Lady speaks.
The Isle of Man was the appointed place,
To penance me for ever in exile;
Thither in haste, they posted me apace,
And doubting 'scape, they pined me in a pyle,
Close by myself; in care alas the while.
There felt I first poor prisoner's hungry fare,
Much want, things skant, and stone walls, hard and bare.
The chaunge was straunge from silke and cloth of gold
To rugged fryze, my carcass for to cloath;
From prince's fare, and dainties hot and cold,
To rotten fish, and meats that one would loath:
The diet and dressing were much alike boath:
Bedding and lodging were all alike fine,
Such down it was as served well for swyne.
[Footnote 1: From manuscript note on the art of poetry.]
[Footnote 2: Biog. Brit. p. 1922.]
[Footnote 3: Willis notitia Parliam. vol 2. p. 295.]
[Footnote 4: Patten's Journal of the Scotch expedition, p. 13.]
[Footnote 5: Stow's Annal. p. 608.]
[Footnote 6: Lond. 40.]
[Footnote 7: Athen. Oxon. vol. I. col. 146.]
[Footnote 8: Grafton's Chron. p. 1350, 1351.]
* * * * *
Sir PHILIP SIDNEY.
This great ornament to human nature, to literature, and to Britain,
was the son of Sir Henry Sidney, knight of the Garter, and three times
Lord Deputy of Ireland, and of lady Mary Dudley, daughter to the duke
of Northumberland, and nephew to that great favourite, Robert, earl of
Leicester.
Oxford had the honour of his education, under the tuition of Dr.
Thomas Thornton, canon of Christ Church. At the university he remained
till he was 17 years of age, and in June 1572 set out on his travels.
On the 24th of August following, when the massacre fell out at Paris,
he was then there, [1] and with other Englishmen took shelter in Sir
Francis Walsingham's house, her Majesty's ambassador at that court.
When this storm subsided, he departed from Paris, went through
Lorrain, and by Strasburgh and Heydelburgh, to Francfort, in September
or October following; where he settled for some time, and was
entertained, agent for the duke of Saxony. At his return, her Majesty
was one of the first who distinguished his great abilities, and, as
proud of so rich a treasure, she sent him ambassador to Rodolph the
emperor, to condole him on the death of Maximilian, and also to other
princes of Germany. The next year, 1577, he went to the court of that
gallant prince Don John de Austria, Viceroy in the low countries for
the king of Spain. Don John was the proudest man in his time;
haughty and imperious in his behaviour, and always used the foreign
ambassadors, who came to his court, with unsufferable insolence and
superiority: At first he paid but little respect to Sidney on account
of his youth, and seeming inexperience; but having had occasion to
hear him talk, and give some account of the manners of every court
where he had been, he was so struck with his vivacity, the propriety
of his observations, and the lustre of his parts, that he ever
afterwards used him with familiarity, and paid him more respect in his
private character, than he did to any ambassador from whatever court.
Some years after this, Wood observes, that in a book called Cabala, he
set forth his reasons why the marriage of the queen with the duke of
Anjou was disadvantageous to the nation. This address was written at
the desire of the earl of Leicester, his uncle; upon which, a quarrel
happened between him and the earl of Oxford, which perhaps occasioned
his retirement from court for two years, when he wrote that renowned
romance called Arcadia. We find him again in high favour, when the
treaty of marriage was renewed; he was engaged with Sir Fulk Greville
in tilting, for the diversion of the court; and at the departure of
the duke of Anjou from England, he attended him to Antwerp [2].
On the 8th of January, 1582, he received the honour of knighthood
from the queen; and in the beginning of the year 1585, he designed an
expedition with Sir Francis Drake into America; but being hindered by
the Queen, who thought the court would be deficient without him, he
was made Governor of Flushing, (about that time delivered to the Queen
for one of the cautionary-towns) and General of the Horse. In both
these places of important trust, his behaviour in point of prudence
and valour was irreproachable, and gained additional honour to his
country, especially when in July 1586 he surprized Axil, and preserved
the lives and reputation of the English army, at the enterprise of
Gravelin. About that time he was in election for the crown of Poland,
but the queen refused to promote this his glorious advancement, not
from jealousy, but from the fear of losing the jewel of her times. He
united the statesman, the scholar and the soldier; and as by the one,
he purchased fame and honour in his life, so by the other, he has
acquired immortality after death.
In the year 1586, when that unfortunate stand was made against the
Spaniards before Zutphen, the 22d of September, when he was getting
upon the third horse, having had two slain under him before, he was
wounded with a musket-shot out of the trenches, which broke the bone
of his thigh. The horse he rode upon was rather furiously choleric,
than bravely proud, so forced him to forsake the field, but not his
back, as the noblest and fittest bier (says lord Brook) to carry a
martial commander to his grave. In this progress, passing along by the
rest of the army where his uncle the [3] General was, and being faint
with excess of bleeding, he called for drink, which was presently
brought him; but as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a
poor soldier carried along, who had been wounded at the same time,
wishfully cast up his eyes at the bottle; whereupon Sir Philip took it
from his own mouth before he drank, and delivered it to the poor man,
with these words, "thy necessity is yet greater than mine;" and when
he had assisted this poor soldier and fellow sufferer, as he called
him, he was presently carried to Arnheim, where the principal surgeons
of the camp attended him.
This generous behaviour of our gallant knight, ought not to pass
without a panegyric. All his deeds of bravery, his politeness, his
learning, and courtly accomplishments, do not reflect so much
honour upon him, as this one disinterested, truly heroic action: It
discovered so tender and benevolent a nature; a mind so fortified
against pain; a heart so overflowing with generous sentiments, to
relieve, in opposition to the violent call of his own necessities, a
poor man languishing in the same distress, before himself, that as
none can read it without the highest admiration of the wounded hero,
so none I hope will think me extravagant in thus endeavouring to extol
it. Bravery is often constitutional; fame may be the motive to feats
of arms, a statesman and a courtier may act from interest; but a
sacrifice so generous as this, can be made by none but those who
are good as well as great, who are noble-minded, and gloriously
compassionate, like Sidney.
When the surgeons began to dress his wound, he told them, that while
his strength was yet entire, his body free from a fever, and his mind
able to endure, they might freely use their art; cut and search to the
bottom; but if they should neglect their art, and renew torments in
the declination of nature, their ignorance, or over-tenderness would
prove a kind of tyranny to their friend, and reflect no honour upon
themselves.
For some time they had great hopes of his recovery; and so zealous
were they to promote it, and overjoyed at its seeming approach, that
they spread the report of it, which soon reached London, and diffused
the most general joy at Court that ever was known.
At the same time count Hollock was under the care of a most excellent
surgeon, for a wound in his throat by a musket shot; yet he neglected
his own extremity to save his friend, and for that purpose sent him to
Sir Philip. This surgeon notwithstanding, out of love to his master,
returning one day to dress his wound, the count cheerfully asked him
how Sir Philip did? he answered with a dejected look, that he was not
well: At these words the count, as having more sense of his friend's
wound than his own, cried out, "Away villain, never see my face again
till you bring better news of that gentleman's recovery, for whose
redemption, many such as I were happily lost."
Finding all the efforts of the surgeons in vain, he began to put no
more confidence in their skill, and resigned himself with heroic
patience to his fate. He called the ministers to him, who were all
excellent men of different nations, and before them made such a
confession of Christian faith, as no book, but the heart, can truly
and feelingly deliver. Then calling for his will, and settling his
temporal affairs, the last scene of this tragedy, was the parting
between the two brothers. Sir Philip exerted all his soul in
endeavouring to suppress his sorrow, in which affection and nature
were too powerful for him, while the other demonstrated his tenderness
by immoderate transports of grief, a weakness which every tender
breast will easily forgive, who have ever felt the pangs of parting
from a brother; and a brother of Sir Philip Sidney's worth, demanded
still additional sorrow. He took his leave with these admonishing
words, "My dear, much loved, honoured brother, love my memory; cherish
my friends; their faith to me may assure you they are honest. But
above all, govern your will and affections, by the will and word of
your Creator. In me, beholding the end of this world with all her
vanities." And with this farewel he desired the company to lead him
away.
After his death, which happened on the 16th of October, the States of
Zealand became suitors to his Majesty, and his noble friends, that
they might have the honour of burying his body at the public expence
of their government,[4] but in this they were denied; for soon after,
his body was brought to Flushing, and being embarked with great
solemnity on the 1st of November, landed at Tower Wharf on the 6th of
the same month; and the 16th of February following, after having lain
in state, it was magnificently deposited in St. Paul's Cathedral.
As the funeral of many princes has not exceeded it in solemnity, so
few have equalled it in the undissembled sorrow for his loss[5] King
James writ an epitaph upon him, and the Muses of Oxford lamenting him,
composed elegies to his memory. It may be justly said of this great
man, what a celebrated poet now living has applied to Archbishop Laud,
Around his tomb did art and genius weep,
Beauty, wit, piety, and bravery, were undissembled
mourners.
He left behind him one child named Elizabeth, (married to the earl of
Rutland) whom he had by Sir Francis Walsingham's daughter, and who
unfortunately died without issue to perpetuate the living virtues
of her illustrious family. She is said to have been excessively
beautiful; that she married the earl of Rutland by authority, but
that her affections were dedicated to the earl of Essex, and as Queen
Elizabeth was in love with that nobleman, she became very jealous of
this charming countess. It has been commonly reported[6] that Sir
Philip, some hours before his death, enjoyned a near friend to
consign his works to the flames. What promise his friend returned is
uncertain, but if he broke his word to befriend the public, posterity
has thank'd him, and every future age will with gratitude acknowledge
the favour.
Of all his works his Arcadia is the most celebrated; it is dedicated
to his sister the countess of Pembroke, who was a Lady of as fine a
character, and as equally finished in every female accomplishment, as
her brother in the manly. She lived to a good old age, and died
in 1621. Ben Johnson has wrote an epitaph upon her, so inimitably
excellent, that I cannot resist the temptation of inserting it here.
She was buried in the Cathedral Church of Salisbury, among the graves
of the family of the Pembrokes.
EPITAPH.
Underneath this marble hearse,
Lyes the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother,
Death e're thou hast killed another,
Learned and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw his dart at thee.
The Arcadia was printed first in 1613 in 4to; it has been translated
into almost every language. As the ancient Ægyptians presented secrets
under their mystical hyeroglyphics, so that an easy figure was
exhibited to the eye, and a higher notion couched under it to the
judgment, so all the Arcadia is a continual grove of morality,
shadowing moral and political truths under the plain and striking
emblems of lovers, so that the reader may be deceived, but not hurt,
and happily surprized to more knowledge than he expected.
Besides the celebrated Arcadia, Sir Philip wrote,
A dissuasive letter addressed to Queen Elizabeth; against her marriage
with the duke of Anjou, printed in a book called Serinia Ceciliana,
4to. 1663.
Astrophel & Stella, written at the desire of Lady Rich, whom he
perfectly loved, and is thought to be celebrated in the Arcadia by the
name of Philoclea.
--------------- Ourania, a poem, 1606.
An Essay on Valour: Some impute this to Sir Thomas Overbury.
Almanzor and Almanzaida, a novel printed in 1678, which is likewise
disputed; and Wood says that he believes Sir Philip's name was only
prefixed to it by the bookseller, to secure a demand for it.
--------England's Helicon, a collection of songs.
--------The Psalms of David turned into English.
The true PICTURE of LOVE.
Poore painters oft with silly poets joyne,
To fill the world with vain and strange conceits,
One brings the stuff, the other stamps the coyne
Which breeds nought else but glosses of deceits.
Thus painters Cupid paint, thus poets doe
A naked god, blind, young, with arrows two.
Is he a god, that ever flyes the light?
Or naked he, disguis'd in all untruth?
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?
How is he young, that tamed old Phoebus
youth?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or lead,
Some hurt, accuse a third with horney head.
No nothing so; an old, false knave he is,
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her, Juno her Jove did miss,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury killed his false sire for this act,
His damme a beast was pardoned, beastly
fact.
With father's death, and mother's guilty shame,
With Jove's disdain at such a rival's feed:
The wretch compel'd, a runegate became,
And learn'd what ill, a miser-state did breed,
To lye, to steal, to prie, and to accuse,
Nought in himself, each other to abuse.
[Footnote 1: Athen, Oxon, folio, p. 226.]
[Footnote 2: Wood, p. 227.]
[Footnote 3: Earl of Leicester.]
[Footnote 4: Lord Brook's life.]
[Footnote 5: For a great many months after his death, it was reckoned
indecent in any gentleman to appear splendidly dress'd; the public
mourned him, not with exterior formality, but with the genuine sorrow
of the heart. Of all our poets he seems to be the most courtly, the
bravest, the most active, and in the moral sense, the best.]
[Footnote 6: Camden Brit. in Kent.]
* * * * *
CHISTOPHER MARLOE
Was bred a student in Cambridge, but there is no account extant of his
family. He soon quitted the University, and became a player on the
same stage with the incomparable Shakespear. He was accounted, says
Langbaine, a very fine poet in his time, even by Ben Johnson himself,
and Heywood his fellow-actor stiles him the best of poets. In a copy
of verses called the Censure of the Poets, he was thus characterized.
Next Marloe bathed in Thespian springs,
Had in him those brave sublunary things,
That your first poets had; his raptures were
All air and fire, which made his verses clear;
For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.
His genius inclined him wholly to tragedy, and he obliged the world
with six plays, besides one he joined for with Nash, called Dido Queen
of Carthage; but before I give an account of them, I shall present his
character to the reader upon the authority of Anthony Wood, which is
too singular to be passed over. This Marloe, we are told, presuming
upon his own little wit, thought proper to practise the most epicurean
indulgence, and openly profess'd atheism; he denied God, Our Saviour;
he blasphemed the adorable Trinity, and, as it was reported, wrote
several discourses against it, affirming Our Saviour to be a deceiver,
the sacred scriptures to contain nothing but idle stories, and all
religion to be a device of policy and priestcraft; but Marloe came to
a very untimely end, as some remarked, in consequence of his execrable
blasphemies. It happened that he fell deeply in love with a low girl,
and had for his rival a fellow in livery, who looked more like a pimp
than a lover. Marloe, fired with jealousy, and having some reason to
believe that his mistress granted the fellow favours, he rushed upon
him to stab him with his dagger; but the footman being quick, avoided
the stroke, and catching hold of Marloe's wrist stabbed him with his
own weapon, and notwithstanding all the assistance of surgery, he soon
after died of the wound, in the year 1593. Some time before his death,
he had begun and made a considerable progress in an excellent poem
called Hero and Leander, which was afterwards finished by George
Chapman, who fell short, as it is said, of the spirit and invention of
Marloe in the execution of it.
What credit may be due to Mr. Wood's severe representation of this
poet's character, the reader must judge for himself. For my part, I am
willing to suspend my judgment till I meet with some other testimony
of his having thus heinously offended against his God, and against the
best and most amiable system of Religion that ever was, or ever can
be: Marloe might possibly be inclined to free-thinking, without
running the unhappy lengths that Mr. Wood tells us, it was reported he
had done. We have many instances of characters being too lightly taken
up on report, and mistakenly represented thro' a too easy credulity;
especially against a man who may happen to differ from us in some
speculative points, wherein each party however, may think himself
Orthodox: The good Dr. Clarke himself, has been as ill spoken of as
Wood speaks of Marloe.
His other works are
1. Dr. Faustus, his tragical history printed in 4to. London, 1661.
2. Edward the Second, a Tragedy, printed in 4to. London--when this
play was acted is not known.
3. Jew of Malta, a Tragedy played before the King and Queen at
Whitehall, 1633. This play was in much esteem in those days; the Jew's
part being performed by Mr. Edward Alleyn, the greatest player of his
time, and a man of real piety and goodness; he founded and endowed
Dulwich hospital in Surry; he was so great an actor, that Betterton,
the Roscius of the British nation, used to acknowledge that he owed to
him those great attainments of which he was master.
4. Lust's Dominion; or the Lascivious Queen, published by Mr. Kirkman,
8vo. London, 1661. This play was altered by Mrs. Behn, and acted
under, the title of the Moor's Revenge.
5. Massacre of Paris, with the death of the Duke of Guise, a Tragedy,
played by the Right Honourable the Lord Admiral's servants. This play
is divided into acts; it begins with the fatal marriage between the
King of Navarre, and Margurete de Valois, sister to King Charles IX;
the occasion of the massacre, and ends with the death of Henry III of
France.
6. Tamerlain the Great; or the Scythian Shepherd, a Tragedy in two
parts, printed in an old black letter, 8vo. 1593. This is said to be
the worst of his productions.
* * * * *
ROBERT GREEN
Received his education at the university of Cambridge, and was, as
Winstanley says, a great friend to the printers by the many books he
writ. He was a merry droll in those times, and a man so addicted to
pleasure, that as Winstanley observes, he drank much deeper draughts
of sack, than of the Heliconian stream; he was amongst the first of
our poets who writ for bread, and in order the better to support
himself, tho' he lived in an age far from being dissolute, viz. in
that of the renowned Queen Elizabeth; yet he had recourse to the mean
expedient of writing obscenity, and favouring the cause of vice, by
which he no doubt recommended himself to the rakes about town, who, as
they are generally no true judges of wit, to estimate the merit of
a piece, as it happens to suit their appetite, or encourage them in
every irregular indulgence. No man of honour who sees a poet endowed
with a large share of natural understanding, prostituting his pen to
the vilest purpose of debauchery and lewdness, can think of him but
with contempt; and his wit, however brilliant, ought not to screen him
from the just indignation of the sober part of mankind. When wit is
prostituted to vice, 'tis wit no more; that is, it ceases to be true
wit; and I have often thought there should be some public mark of
infamy fixed on those who hurt society by loose writings. But Mr.
Green must be freed from the imputation of hypocrisy, for we find him
practicing the very doctrines he taught. Winstanley relates that he
was married to a very fine and deserving lady, whom he basely forsook,
with a child she had by him, for the company of some harlots, to whom
he applied the wages of iniquity, while his wife starved. After some
years indulgence of this sort, when his wit began to grow stale, we
find him fallen into abject poverty, and lamenting the life he had led
which brought him to it; for it always happens, that a mistress is a
more expensive piece of furniniture than a wife; and if the modern
adulterers would speak the truth, I am certain they would acknowledge,
that half the money which, in the true sense of the word, is misspent
upon those daughters of destruction, would keep a family with decency,
and maintain a wife with honour. When our author was in this forlorn
miserable state, he writ a letter to his wife, which Mr. Winstanly has
preferred, and which, as it has somewhat tender in it I shall insert.
It has often been observed, that half the unhappy marriages in the
world, are more owing to the men than the women; That women are in
general much better beings, in the moral sense, than the men; who,
as they bustle less in life, are generally unacquainted with those
artifices and tricks, which are acquired by a knowledge of the world;
and that then their yoke-fellows need only be tender and indulgent, to
win them. But I believe it may be generally allowed, that women are
the best or worst part of the human creation: none excel them in
virtue; but when they depart from it, none exceed them in vice. In the
case of Green, we shall see by the letter he sent his wife how much
she was injured.
"The remembrance of many wrongs offered
thee, and thy unreproved virtues, add greater
sorrow to my miserable state than I can utter,
or thou conceive; neither is it lessened by consideration
of thy absence, (tho' shame would
let me hardly behold thy face) but exceedingly
aggravated, for that I cannot as I ought to thy ownself
reconcile myself, that thou might'st witness my
inward woe at this instant, that hath made thee a
woful wife for so long a time. But equal heaven has
denied that comfort, giving at my last need, like
succour as I have sought all my life, being in
this extremity as void of help, as thou hast been
of hope. Reason would that after so long waste,
I should not send thee a child to bring thee
charge; but consider he is the fruit of thy
womb, in whose face regard not the father, so
much as thy own perfections: He is yet green,
and may grow strait, if he be carefully tended,
otherwise apt enough to follow his father's folly.
That I have offended thee highly, I know;
that thou canst forget my injuries, I hardly believe;
yet I perswade myself, that if thou sawest
my wretched estate, thou couldst not but lament
it, nay certainly I know, thou wouldst. All thy
wrongs muster themselves about me, and every
evil at once plagues me; for my contempt of
God, I am contemned of men; for my swearing
and forswearing, no man will believe me;
for my gluttony, I suffer hunger; for my
drunkenness, thirst; for my adultery, ulcerous
sores. Thus God hath cast me down that I
might be humbled, and punished for example
of others; and though he suffers me in this
world to perish without succour, yet I trust in the
world to come, to find mercy by the merits of
my Saviour, to whom I commend thee, and commit
my soul."
Thy repentant husband,
for his disloyalty,
ROBERT GREEN.
This author's works are chiefly these,
The Honourable History of Fryar Bacon, and Fryar Bungy; play'd by the
Prince of Palatine's servants. I know not whence our author borrowed
his plot, but this famous fryar Minor lived in the reign of Henry III.
and died in the reign of Edward I. in the year 1284. He joined with
Dr. Lodge in one play, called a Looking Glass for London; he writ also
the Comedies of Fryar Bacon and Fair Enome. His other pieces are, Quip
for an upstart Courtier, and Dorastus and Fawnia. Winstanley imputes
likewise to him the following pieces. Tully's Loves; Philomela, the
Lady Fitzwater's Nightingale; Green's News too Late, first and second
part; Green's Arcadia; Green's Farewel to Folly; Green's Groatsworth
of Wit.
It is said by Wood in his Fasti, p. 137, vol. i. that our author died
in the year 1592, of a surfeit taken by eating pickled herrings, and
drinking with them rhenish wine. At this fatal banquet, Thomas Nash,
his cotemporary at Cambridge was with him, who rallies him in his
Apology of Pierce Pennyless. Thus died Robert Green, whose end may
be looked upon as a kind of punishment for a life spent in riot and
infamy.
* * * * *
EDMUND SPENSER
was born in London, and educated at Pembroke Hall in Cambridge. The
accounts of the birth and family of this great man are but obscure and
imperfect, and at his first setting out into life, his fortune and
interest seem to have been very inconsiderable.
After he had for some time continued at the college, and laid that
foundation of learning, which, joined to his natural genius, qualified
him to rise to so great an excellency, he stood for a fellowship,
in competition with Mr. Andrews, a gentleman in holy orders, and
afterwards lord bishop of Winchester, in which he was unsuccessful.
This disappointment, joined with the narrowness of his circumstances,
forced him to quit the university [1]; and we find him next residing
at the house of a friend in the North, where he fell in love with his
Rosalind, whom he finely celebrates in his pastoral poems, and of
whose cruelty he has written such pathetical complaints.
It is probable that about this time Spenser's genius began first to
distinguish itself; for the Shepherd's Calendar, which is so full of
his unprosperous passion for Rosalind, was amongst the first of
his works of note, and the supposition is strengthened, by the
consideration of Poetry's being frequently the offspring of love
and retirement. This work he addressed by a short dedication to the
Mæcenas of his age, the immortal Sir Philip Sidney. This gentleman was
now in the highest reputation, both for wit and gallantry, and the
most popular of all the courtiers of his age, and as he was himself a
writer, and especially excelled in the fabulous or inventive part of
poetry; it is no wonder he was struck with our author's genius, and
became sensible of his merit. A story is told of him by Mr. Hughes,
which I shall present the reader, as it serves to illustrate the great
worth and penetration of Sidney, as well as the excellent genius of
Spenser. It is said that our poet was a stranger to this gentleman,
when he began to write his Fairy Queen, and that he took occasion to
go to Leicester-house, and introduce himself by sending in to Mr.
Sidney a copy of the ninth Canto of the first book of that poem.
Sidney was much surprized with the description of despair in that
Canto, and is said to have shewn an unusual kind of transport on the
discovery of so new and uncommon a genius. After he had read some
stanza's, he turned to his steward, and bid him give the person that
brought those verses fifty pounds; but upon reading the next stanza,
he ordered the sum to be doubled. The steward was no less surprized
than his master, and thought it his duty to make some delay in
executing so sudden and lavish a bounty; but upon reading one stanza
stanza more, Mr. Sidney raised the gratuity to two hundred pounds, and
commanded the steward to give it immediately, lest as he read further
he might be tempted to give away his whole estate. From this time he
admitted the author to his acquaintance and conversation, and prepared
the way for his being known and received at court.
Tho' this seemed a promising omen, to be thus introduced to court, yet
he did not instantly reap any advantage from it. He was indeed created
poet laureat to Queen Elizabeth, but he for some time wore a barren
laurel, and possessed only the place without the pension [2]. Lord
treasurer Burleigh, under whose displeasure Spenser laboured, took
care to intercept the Queen's favours to this unhappy great man. As
misfortunes have the most influence on elegant and polished minds, so
it was no wonder that Spenser was much depressed by the cold reception
he met with from the great; a circumstance which not a little detracts
from the merit of the ministers then in power: for I know not if
all the political transactions of Burleigh, are sufficient to
counterballance the infamy affixed on his name, by prosecuting
resentment against distressed merit, and keeping him who was the
ornament of the times, as much distant as possible from the approach
of competence. These discouragements greatly sunk our author's spirit,
and accordingly we find him pouring out his heart, in complaints of so
injurious and undeserved a treatment; which probably, would have been
less unfortunate to him, if his noble patron Sir Philip Sidney had not
been so much absent from court, as by his employments abroad, and the
share he had in the Low-Country wars, he was obliged to be. In a poem
called, The Ruins of Time, which was written some time after Sidney's
death, the author seems to allude to the discouragement I have
mentioned in the following stanza.
O grief of griefs, O gall of all good hearts!
To see that virtue should despised be,
Of such as first were raised for virtue's parts,
And now broad-spreading like an aged tree,
Let none shoot up that nigh them planted be;
O let not these, of whom the muse is scorned,
Alive or dead be by the muse adorned.
These lines are certainly meant to reflect on Burleigh for neglecting
him, and the Lord Treasurer afterwards conceived a hatred towards him
for the satire he apprehended was levelled at him in Mother Hubbard's
Tale. In this poem, the author has in the most lively manner, painted
out the misfortune of depending on court favours. The lines which
follow are among others very remarkable.
Full little knowest thou, that hast not try'd,
What Hell it is in suing long to bide,
To dole good days, that nights be better spent,
To waste long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to day, to be put back to-morrow,
To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow
To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers,
To have thy asking, yet wait many years.
To fret thy soul with crosses, and with care.
To eat thy heart, thro' comfortless despair;
To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run
To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.
As this was very much the author's case, it probably was the
particular passage in that poem which gave offence; for as Hughes very
elegantly observes, even the sighs of a miserable man, are sometimes
resented as an affront, by him who is the occasion of them. There is a
little story, which seems founded on the grievance just now mentioned,
and is related by some as a matter of fact [3] commonly reported at
that time. It is said, that upon his presenting some poems to the
Queen, she ordered him a gratuity of one hundred pounds, but the Lord
Treasurer Burleigh objecting to it, said with some scorn of the poet,
of whose merit he was totally ignorant, "What, all this for a song?"
The queen replied, "Then give him what is reason." Spenser for some
time waited, but had the mortification to find himself disappointed
of her Majesty's bounty. Upon this he took a proper opportunity to
present a paper to Queen Elizabeth in the manner of a petition, in
which he reminded her of the order she had given, in the following
lines.
I was promised on a time
To have reason for my rhime,
From that time, unto this season
I received nor rhime, nor reason.
This paper produced the intended effect, and the Queen, after sharply
reproving the treasurer, immediately directed the payment of the
hundred pounds the had first ordered. In the year 1579 he was sent
abroad by the Earl of Leicester, as appears by a copy of Latin verses
dated from Leicester-house, and addressed to his friend Mr. Harvey;
but Mr. Hughes has not been able to determine in what service we was
employed. When the Lord Grey of Wilton was chosen Deputy of Ireland,
Spenser was recommended to him as secretary. This drew him over to
another kingdom, and settled him in a scene of life very different
from what he had formerly known; but, that he understood, and
discharged his employment with skill and capacity, appears
sufficiently by his discourse on the state of Ireland, in which there
are many solid and judicious remarks, that shew him no less qualified
for the business of the state, than for the entertainment of the
muses. His life was now freed from the difficulties under which it had
hitherto struggled, and his services to the Crown received a reward of
a grant from Queen Elizabeth of 3000 Acres of land in the county of
Cork. His house was in Kilcolman, and the river Mulla, which he has
more than once so finely introduced in his poems, ran through his
grounds. Much about this time, he contracted an intimate friendship
with the great and learned Sir Walter Raleigh, who was then a captain
under the lord Grey. The poem of Spenser's, called Colin Clouts come
home again, in which Sir Walter Raleigh is described under the name of
the Shepherd of the Ocean, is a beautiful memorial of this friendship,
which took its rise from a similarity of taste in the polite arts, and
which he agreeably describes with a softness and delicacy peculiar to
him. Sir Walter afterwards promoted him in Queen Elizabeth's esteem,
thro' whose recommendation she read his writings. He now fell in love
a second time with a merchant's daughter, in which, says Mrs. Cooper,
author of the muses library, he was more successful than in his first
amour. He wrote upon this occasion a beautiful epithalamium, with
which he presented the lady on the bridal-day, and has consigned that
day, and her, to immortality. In this pleasant easy situation our
excellent poet finished the celebrated poem of The Fairy Queen, which
was begun and continued at different intervals of time, and of which
he at first published only the three first books; to these were added
three more in a following edition, but the six last books (excepting
the two canto's of mutability) were unfortunately lost by his servant
whom he had in haste sent before him into England; for tho' he passed
his life for some time very serenely here, yet a train of misfortunes
still pursued him, and in the rebellion of the Earl of Desmond he was
plundered and deprived of his estate. This distress forced him to
return to England, where for want of his noble patron Sir Philip
Sidney, he was plunged into new calamities, as that gallant Hero died
of the wounds he received at Zutphen. It is said by Mr. Hughes, that
Spenser survived his patron about twelve years, and died the same year
with his powerful enemy the Lord Burleigh, 1598. He was buried, says
he, in Westminster-Abbey, near the famous Geoffery Chaucer, as he had
desired; his obsequies were attended by the poets of that time, and
others, who paid the last honours to his memory. Several copies of
verses were thrown after him into his grave, and his monument was
erected at the charge of the famous Robert Devereux, the unfortunate
Earl of Essex. This is the account given by his editor, of the death
of Spenser, but there is some reason to believe that he spoke only
upon imagination, as he has produced no authority to support his
opinion, especially as I find in a book of great reputation, another
opinion, delivered upon probable grounds. The ingenious Mr.
Drummond of Hawthronden, a noble wit of Scotland, had an intimate
correspondence with all the genius's of his time who resided at
London, particularly the famous Ben Johnson, who had so high an
opinion of Mr. Drummond's abilities, that he took a journey into
Scotland in order to converse with him, and stayed some time at his
house at Hawthronden. After Ben Johnson departed, Mr. Drummond,
careful to retain what past betwixt them, wrote down the heads of
their conversation; which is published amongst his poems and history
of the five James's Kings of Scotland. Amongst other particulars there
is this. "Ben Johnson told me that Spenser's goods were robbed by the
Irish in Desmond's rebellion, his house and a little child of his
burnt, and he and his wife nearly escaped; that he afterwards died in
King-street [4] by absolute want of bread; and that he refused twenty
pieces sent him by the Earl of Essex [5], and gave this answer to the
person who brought them, that he was sure he had no time to spend
them."
Mr. Drummond's works, from whence I have extracted the above, are
printed in a thin quarto, and may be seen at Mr. Wilson's at Plato's
Head in the Strand. I have been thus particular in the quotation, that
no one may suspect such extraordinary circumstances to be advanced
upon imagination. In the inscription on his tomb in Westminster Abbey,
it is said he was born in the year 1510, and died 1596; Cambden says
1598, but in regard to his birth they must both be mistaken, for it is
by no means probable he was born so early as 1510, if we judge by
the remarkable circumstance of his standing for a fellowship in
competition with Mr. Andrews, who was not born according to Hughes
till 1555. Besides, if this account of his birth be true, he must have
been sixty years old when he first published his Shepherd's Calendar,
an age not very proper for love; and in this case it is no wonder,
that the beautiful Rosalind slighted his addresses; and he must have
been seventy years old when he entered into business under lord Grey,
who was created deputy in Ireland 1580: for which reasons we may
fairly conclude, that the inscription is false, either by the error of
the carver, or perhaps it was put on when the monument was repaired.
There are very few particulars of this great poet, and it must be a
mortification to all lovers of the Muses, that no more can be found
concerning the life of one who was the greatest ornament of his
profession. No writer ever found a nearer way to the heart than he,
and his verses have a peculiar happiness of recommending the author to
our friendship as well as raising our admiration; one cannot read
him without fancying oneself transported into Fairy Land, and there
conversing with the Graces, in that enchanted region: In elegance of
thinking and fertility of imagination, few of our English authors have
approached him, and no writers have such power as he to awake the
spirit of poetry in others. Cowley owns that he derived inspiration
from him; and I have heard the celebrated Mr. James Thomson, the
author of the Seasons, and justly esteemed one of our best descriptive
poets, say, that he formed himself upon Spenser; and how closely he
pursued the model, and how nobly he has imitated him, whoever reads
his Castle of Indolence with taste, will readily confess.
Mr. Addison, in his characters of the English Poets, addressed to Mr.
Sacheverel, thus speaks of Spenser:
Old Spenser next, warm'd with poetic rage,
In ancient tales amus'd a barb'rous age;
An age, that yet uncultivate and rude,
Where-e'er the poet's fancy led, pursued
Thro' pathless fields, and unfrequented floods,
To dens of dragons, and enchanted woods.
But now the mystic tale, that pleas'd of yore,
Can charm an understanding age no more;
The long spun allegories, fulsome grow,
While the dull moral lyes too plain below.
We view well pleased at distance, all the sights,
Of arms, and palfries, battles, fields, and fights,
And damsels in distress, and courteous knights.
But when we look too near, the shades decay,
And all the pleasing landscape fades away.
It is agreed on all hands, that the distresses of our author helped
to shorten his days, and indeed, when his extraordinary merit is
considered, he had the hardest measure of any of our poets. It appears
from different accounts, that he was of an amiable sweet disposition,
humane and generous in his nature. Besides the Fairy Queen, we find he
had written several other pieces, of which we can only trace out the
titles. Among these, the most considerable were nine comedies, in
imitation of the comedies of his admired Ariosto, inscribed with the
names of the Nine Muses. The rest which are mentioned in his letters,
and those of his friends, are his Dying Pelicane, his Pageants,
Stemmata Dudleyana, the Canticles paraphrazed, Ecclesiastes, Seven
Psalms, Hours of our Lord, Sacrifice of a Sinner, Purgatory, a
S'ennight Slumber, the Court of Cupid, and Hell of Lovers. It is
likewise said, he had written a treatise in prose called the English
Poet: as for the Epithalamion Thamesis, and his Dreams, both mentioned
by himself in one of his letters, Mr. Hughes thinks they are still
preserved, tho' under different names. It appears from what is said of
the Dreams by his friend Mr. Harvey, that they were in imitation of
Petrarch's Visions.
To produce authorities in favour of Spenser, as a poet. I should
reckon an affront to his memory; that is a tribute which I shall only
pay to inferior wits, whose highest honour it is to be mentioned with
respect, by genius's of a superior class. The works of Spenser will
never perish, tho' he has introduced unnecessarily many obsolete terms
into them; there is a flow of poetry, an elegance of sentiment, a fund
of imagination, and an enchanting enthusiasm which will ever secure
him the applauses of posterity while any lovers of poetry remain.
We find little account of the family which Spenser left behind him,
only that in a few particulars of his life prefixed to the last folio
edition of his works, it is said that his great grandson Hugolin
Spenser, after the restoration of king Charles II. was restored by the
court of claims to so much of the lands as could be found to have been
his ancestors; there is another remarkable passage of which (says
Hughes) I can give the reader much better assurance: that a person
came over from Ireland, in King William's time, to sollicit the same
affair, and brought with him letters of recommendation, as a defendant
of Spenser. His name procured him a favourable reception, and
he applied himself particularly to Mr. Congreve, by whom he was
generously recommended to the favour of the earl of Hallifax, who was
then at the head of the treasury; and by that means he obtained his
suit. This man was somewhat advanced in years, and might be the same
mentioned before, who had possibly recovered only some part of his
estate at first, or had been disturbed in the possession of it. He
could give no account of the works of his ancestor, which are wanting,
and which are therefore in all probability irrecoverably lost.
The following stanzas are said to be those with which Sir Philip
Sidney was first struck.
From him returning, sad and comfortless,
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villain (God from him me bless)
That cursed wight, from whom I 'scaped whylear,
A man of hell that calls himself despair;
Who first us greets, and after fair areeds
Of tidings strange, and of adventures rare:
So creeping close, as snake in hidden weeds,
Inquireth of our states, and of our Knight'y deeds.
Which when he knew, and felt our feeble hearts
Emboss'd with bale, and bitter-biting grief,
Which love had launced with his deadly darts,
With wounding words, and terms of foul reprief,
He plucked from us all hope of due relief;
That erst us held in love of ling'ring life;
Then hopeless, heartless, 'gan the cunning thief
Persuade us die, to stint all further strife:
To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty knife.
The following is the picture.
The darksome cave they enter, where they find,
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullen mind;
His greasy locks, long growing and unbound,
Disordered hung about his shoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne,
Look'd deadly dull, and stared as astound;
His raw bone cheeks thro' penury and pine,
Were shrunk into his jaws, as he did never dine,
His garments nought, but many ragged clouts,
With thorns together pinn'd and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside, there lay upon the grass
A dreary corse, whose life away did pass,
All wallowed in his own, yet luke-warm blood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rusty knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
It would perhaps be an injury to Spenser to dismiss his Life without a
few remarks on that great work of his which has placed him among
the foremost of our poets, and discovered so elevated and sublime a
genius. The work I mean is his allegorical poem of the Fairy Queen.
Sir William Temple in his essay on poetry, says, "that the religion of
the Gentiles had been woven into the contexture of all the ancient
poetry with an agreeable mixture, which made the moderns affect to
give that of christianity a place also in their poems; but the true
religion was not found to become fictitious so well as the false one
had done, and all their attempts of this kind seemed, rather to debase
religion than heighten poetry. Spenser endeavoured to supply this with
morality, and to make instruction, instead of story the subject of an
epic poem. His execution was excellent, and his flights of fancy very
noble and high. But his design was poor; and his moral lay so bare,
that it lost the effect. It is true, the pill was gilded, but so thin
that the colour and the taste were easily discovered.--Mr. Rymer
asserts, that Spenser may be reckoned the first of our heroic poets.
He had a large spirit, a sharp judgment, and a genius for heroic
poetry, perhaps above any that ever wrote since Virgil, but our
misfortune is, he wanted a true idea, and lost himself by following an
unfaithful guide. Tho' besides Homer and Virgil he had read Tasso, yet
he rather suffered himself to be misled by Ariosto, with whom blindly
rambling on marvels and adventures, he makes no conscience of
probability; all is fanciful and chimerical, without any uniformity,
or without any foundation in truth; in a word his poem is perfect
Fairy-Land. Thus far Sir William Temple, and Mr. Rymer; let us now
attend to the opinion of a greater name. Mr. Dryden in his dedication
of Juvenal, thus proceeds: The English have only to boast of Spenser
and Milton in heroic poetry, who neither of them wanted either genius
or learning to have been perfect poets, and yet both of them are
liable to many censures; for there is no uniformity in the design of
Spenser; he aims at the accomplishment of no one action; he raises up
a hero for every one of his adventures, and endows each of them with
some particular moral virtue, which renders them all equal, without
subordination or preference: Every one is valiant in his own legend;
only we must do him the justice to observe, that magnanimity, which is
the character of prince Arthur, shines throughout the whole poem, and
succours the rest when they are in distress. The original of every
knight was then living in the court of Queen Elizabeth; and he
attributed to each of them that virtue which he thought was most
conspicuous in them; an ingenious piece of flattery, tho' it turned
not much to his account. Had he lived to finish his poem in the
remaining legends, it had certainly been more of a piece; but could
not have been perfect because the model was not true. But prince
Arthur, or his chief patron Sir Philip Sidney, dying before him,
deprived the poet both of means and spirit to accomplish his design.
For the rest, his obsolete language, and ill choice of his stanza, are
faults both of the second magnitude; for notwithstanding the first, he
is still intelligible, at least after a little practice, and for
the last he is more to be admired, that labouring under such
disadvantages, his verses are so numerous, so various, and so
harmonious, that only Virgil, whom he has professedly imitated, has
surpassed him among the Romans, and only Waller among the English."
Mr. Hughes in his essay on allegorical poetry prefixed to Spenser's
works, tells us, that this poem is conceived, wrought up, and coloured
with stronger fancy, and discovers more the particular genius of
Spenser, than any of his other writings; and having observed that
Spenser in a letter to Sir Walter Raleigh calls it, a continued
allegory, or dark conceit, he gives us some remarks on allegorical
poetry in general, defining allegory to be a fable or story, in which,
under imaginary persons or things, is shadowed some real action or
instructive moral, or as I think, says he, it is somewhere very
shortly defined by. Plutarch; it is that, in which one thing is,
related, and another thing understood; it is a kind of poetical
picture, or hieroglyphick, which by its apt resemblance, conveys
instruction to the mind, by an analogy to the senses, and so amuses
the fancy while it informs the understanding. Every allegory has
therefore two senses, the literal and mystical, the literal sense
is like a dream or vision, of which the mystical sense is the true
meaning, or interpretation. This will be more clearly apprehended
by considering, that as a simile is a more extended metaphor, so
an allegory is a kind of continued simile, or an assemblage of
similitudes drawn out at full length.
The chief merit of this poem, no doubt, consists in that surprising
vein of fabulous invention, which runs through it, and enriches it
every where with imagery and descriptions, more than we meet with in
any other modern poem. The author seems to be possessed of a kind of
poetical magic, and the figures he calls up to our view rise so
thick upon us, that we are at once pleased and distracted with the
exhaustless variety of them; so that his faults may in a manner be
imputed to his excellencies. His abundance betrays him into excess,
and his judgment is over-born by the torrent of his imagination. That
which seems the most liable to exception in this work is the model of
it, and the choice the author has made of so romantic a story. The
several books rather appear like so many several poems, than one
entire fable. Each of them has its peculiar knight, and is independent
of the rest; and tho' some of the persons make their appearance in
different books, yet this has very little effect in concealing them.
Prince Arthur is indeed the principal person, and has therefore a
share given him in every legend; but his part is not considerable
enough in any one of them. He appears and vanishes again like a
spirit, and we lose sight of him too soon to consider him as the hero
of the poem. These are the most obvious defects in the fable of the
Fairy Queen. The want of unity in the story makes it difficult for the
reader to carry it in his mind, and distracts too much his attention
to the several parts of it; and indeed the whole frame of it would
appear monstrous, were it to be examined by the rules of epic poetry,
as they have been drawn from the practice of Homer and Virgil; but as
it is plain, the author never designed it by these rules, I think it
ought rather to be called a poem of a particular kind, describing in a
series of allegorical adventures, or episodes, the most noted virtues
and vices. To compare it therefore with the models of antiquity, would
be like drawing a parallel between the Roman and Gothic architecture.
In the first, there is doubtless a more natural grandeur and
simplicity; in the latter, we find great mixtures of beauty and
barbarism, yet assisted by the invention of a variety of inferior
ornaments; and tho' the former is more majestic in the whole, the
latter may be very surprizing and agreeable in its parts.
[Footnote 1: Hughes's Life of Spencer, prefixed to the edition of our
author's works.]
[Footnote 2: Hughes ubi supra,]
[Footnote 3: Winst. p. 88.]
[Footnote 4: Dublin]
[Footnote 5: The General of the English army in Ireland.]
* * * * *
JASPER HEYWOOD,
the son of the celebrated epigramatist, was born in London, and in the
12th year of his age, 1517, was sent to the University, where he was
educated in grammar and logic. In 1553 he took a degree in Arts, and
was immediately elected Probationer fellow of Merton College, where he
gained a superiority over all his fellow students in disputations at
the public school. Wood informs us, that upon a third admonition, from
the warden and society of that house, he resigned his fellowship, to
prevent expulsion, on the 4th of April, 1558; he had been guilty of
several misdemeanors, such as are peculiar to youth, wildness and
rakishness, which in those days it seems were very severely punished.
Soon after this he quitted England, and entered himself into the
society of Jesus at St. Omer's [1]; but before he left his native
country, he writ and translated (says Wood), these things following.
Various Poems and Devices; some of which are printed in a book called
the Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1574, 4to.
Hercules Furens, a Tragedy, which some have imputed to Seneca, and
others have denied to be his, but it is thought by most learned men to
be an imitation of that play of Euripides, which bears the same name,
and tho, in contrivance and economy, they differ in some things, yet
in others they agree, and Scaliger scruples not to prefer the Latin to
the Greek Tragedy [2].
Troas, a Tragedy of Seneca's, which the learned Farnaby, and Daniel
Heinsius very much commend; the former stiling it a divine tragedy,
the other preferring it to one of the same name by Euripides, both in
language and contrivance, but especially he says it far exceeds it in
the chorus. In this tragedy the author has taken the liberty of adding
several things, and altering others, as thinking the play imperfect:
First as to the additions, he has at the end of the chorus after
the first act, added threescore verses of his own invention: In the
beginning of the second act he has added a whole scene, where he
introduces the ghost of Achilles rising from hell, to require the
sacrifice of Polyxena! to the chorus of this act he added three
stanza's. As to his alterations, instead of translating the chorus
of the third act, which is wholly taken up with the names of foreign
countries, the translation of which without notes he thought would
be tiresome to the English reader, he has substituted in its stead
another chorus of his own invention. This tragedy runs in verses of
fourteen syllables, and for the most part his chorus is writ in verse
of ten syllables, which is called heroic.
Thyestes, another tragedy of Seneca's, which in the judgment of
Hiensius, is not inferior to any other of his dramatic pieces. Our
author translated this play when he was at Oxford; it is wrote in
the same manner of verse as the other, only the chorus is written in
alternate rhime. The translator has added a scene at the end of the
fifth act, spoken by Thyestes alone; in which he bewails his misery,
and implores Heaven's vengeance on Atreus. These plays are printed in
a black letter in 4to. 1581.
Langbain observes, that tho' he cannot much commend the version of
Heywood, as poetically elegant, as he has chosen a measure of fourteen
syllables, which ever sounds harsh to the ears of those that are used
to heroic poetry, yet, says he, I must do the author this justice, to
acquaint the world, that he endeavours to give Seneca's sense, and
likewise to imitate his verse, changing his measure, as often as his
author, the chorus of each act being different from the act itself, as
the reader may observe, by comparing the English copy with the Latin
original.
After our author had spent two years in the study of divinity amongst
the priests, he was sent to Diling in Switzerland, where he continued
about seventeen years, in explaining and discussing controverted
questions, among those he called Heretics, in which time, for his zeal
for the holy mother, he was promoted to the degree of Dr. of Divinity,
and of the Four Vows. At length pope Gregory XIII. calling him away
in 1581, he sent him, with others, the same year into the mission of
England, and the rather because the brethren there told his holiness,
that the harvest was great, and the labourers few [3]. Being settled
then in the metropolis of his own country, and esteemed the chief
provincial of the Jesuits in England, it was taken notice of, that
he affected more the exterior shew of a lord, than the humility of a
priest, keeping as grand an equipage, as money could then furnish him
with. Dr. Fuller says, that our author was executed in the reign of
Queen Elizabeth; but Sir Richard Baker tells us, that he was one of
the chief of those 70 priests that were taken in the year 1585; and
when some of them were condemned, and the rest in danger of the law,
her Majesty caused them all to be shipp'd away, and sent out of
England. Upon Heywood's being taken and committed to prison, and the
earl of Warwick thereupon ready to relieve his necessity, he made a
copy of verses, mentioned by Sir John Harrington, concluding with
these two;
----Thanks to that lord, that wills me good;
For I want all things, saving hay and wood.
He afterwards went to Rome, and at last settled in the city of Naples,
where he became familiarly known to that zealous Roman Catholick, John
Pitceus, who speaks of him with great respect.
It is unknown what he wrote or published after he became a Jesuit. It
is said that he was a great critic in the Hebrew language, and that he
digested an easy and short method, (reduced into tables) for novices
to learn that language, which Wood supposes was a compendium of a
Hebrew grammar. Our author paid the common debt of nature at Naples,
1598, and was buried in the college of Jesuits there.
[Footnote 1: Langb. Lives of the Poets, p. 249.]
[Footnote 2: Langb. ubi supra.]
[Footnote 3: Athen. Oxon.]
* * * * *
JOHN LILLY,
A writer who flourished in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; he was a
Kentish man, and in his younger years educated at St. Mary Magdalen
College in Oxon, where in the year 1575 he took his degree of Master
of Arts. He was, says Langbaine, a very close student, and much
addicted to poetry; a proof of which he has given to the world, in
those plays which he has bequeathed to posterity, and which in that
age were well esteemed, both by the court, and by the university. He
was one of the first writers, continues Langbain, who in those
days attempted to reform the language, and purge it from obsolete
expressions. Mr. Blount, a gentleman who has made himself known to the
world, by several pieces of his own writing (as Horæ Subsecivæ, his
Microcosmography, &c.) and who published six of these plays, in his
title page stiles him, the only rare poet of that time, the witty,
comical, facetiously quick, and unparallell'd John Lilly. Mr. Blount
further says, 'That he sat 'at Apollo's table; that Apollo gave him a
wreath of his own bays without snatching; and that the Lyre he played
on, had no borrowed strings:' He mentions a romance of our author's
writing, called Euphues; our nation, says he, are in his debt, for a
new English which he taught them; Euphues, and his England began first
that language, and all our ladies were then his scholars, and that
beauty in court who could not read Euphism, was as little regarded,
as she who now speaks not French. This extraordinary Romance I
acknowledge I have not read, so cannot from myself give it a
character, but I have some reason to believe, that it was a miserable
performance, from the authority of the author of the British Theatre,
who in his preface thus speaks of it; "This Romance, says he, so
fashionable for its wit; so famous in the court of Queen Elizabeth,
and is said to have introduced so remarkable a change in our language,
I have seen and read. It is an unnatural affected jargon, in which the
perpetual use of metaphors, allusions, allegories, and analogies,
is to pass for wit, and stiff bombast for language; and with this
nonsense the court of Queen Elizabeth (whose times afforded better
models for stile and composition, than almost any since) became
miserably infected, and greatly help'd to let in all the vile pedantry
of language in the two following reigns; so much mischief the most
ridiculous instrument may do, when he proposes to improve on the
simplicity of nature."
Mr. Lilly has writ the following dramatic pieces;
Alexander and Campaspe, a tragical comedy; play'd before the Queen's
Majesty on twelfth-night, by her Majesty's children, and the children
of St. Paul's, and afterwards at the Black Fryars; printed in 12mo.
London, 1632. The story of Alexander's bestowing Campaspe, in the
enamoured Apelles, is related by Pliny in his Natural History. Lib.
xxxv. L. x.
Endymion, a Comedy, presented before Queen Elizabeth, by the children
of her Majesty's chaple, printed in 12mo. 1632. The story of
Endymion's being beloved by the moon, with comments upon it, may be
met with in most of the Mythologists. See Lucian's Dialogues, between
Venus and the Moon. Mr. Gambauld has writ a romance called Endymion,
translated into English, 8vo. 1639.
Galathea, a Comedy, played before the Queen at Greenwich on New year's
day, at night, by the children of St. Paul's, printed in 12mo. London,
1632. In the characters of Galathea and Philidia, the poet has copied
the story of Iphis and Ianthe, which the reader may find at large in
the ninth book of Ovid's Metamorphosis.
Maid's Metamorphosis, a Comedy, acted by the children of St. Paul's,
printed in 12mo. 1632.
Mydas, a Comedy, played before the Queen on Twelfth-night, printed
in 12mo. London, 1632. For the story, see the xith book of Ovid's
Metamorphosis.
Sappho and Phaon, a Comedy, played before the queen on Shrove-Tuesday,
by the children of Paul's, and afterwards at Black-Fryars, printed
in Twelves, London 1632. This story the reader may learn from Ovid's
Epistles, of Sappho to Phaon, Ep. 21.
Woman in the Moon, presented before the Queen, London 1667. Six of
these plays, viz. Alexander and Campaspe, Endymion, Galathea and
Mydas, Sappho and Phaon, with Mother Bombie, a Comedy, by the
same author, are printed together under the title of the Six
Court-Comedies, 12mo, London 1632, and dedicated by Mr. Blount, to the
lord viscount Lumly of Waterford; the other two are printed singly
in Quarto.----He also wrote Loves Metamorphosis, a courtly pastoral,
printed 1601.
* * * * *
Sir THOMAS OVERBURY
Was son of Nicholas Overbury, Esq; of Burton in Gloucestershire, one
of the Judges of the Marches[1]. He was born with very bright parts,
and gave early discoveries of a rising genius. In 1595, the 14th year
of his age, he became a gentleman commoner in Queen's-College in
Oxford, and in 1598, as a 'squire's son, he took the degree of
batchelor of arts; he removed from thence to the Middle-Temple, in
order to study the municipal law, but did not long remain there[2].
His genius, which was of a sprightly kind, could not bear the
confinement of a student, or the drudgery of reading law; he abandoned
it therefore, and travelled into France, where he so improved himself
in polite accomplishments, that when he returned he was looked upon as
one of the most finished gentlemen about court.
Soon after his arrival in England, he contracted an intimacy, which
afterwards grew into friendship with Sir Robert Carre, a Scotch
gentleman, a favourite with king James, and afterwards earl of
Somerset. Such was the warmth of friendship in which these two
gentlemen lived, that they were inseparable. Carre could enter into no
scheme, nor pursue any measures, without the advice and concurrence of
Overbury, nor could Overbury enjoy any felicity but in the company of
him he loved; their friendship was the subject of court-conversation,
and their genius seemed so much alike, that it was reasonable to
suppose no breach could ever be produced between them; but such it
seems is the power of woman, such the influence of beauty, that even
the sacred ties of friendship are broke asunder by the magic energy of
these superior charms. Carre fell in love with lady Frances Howard,
daughter to the Earl of Suffolk, and lately divorced from the Earl
of Essex[3]. He communicated his passion to his friend, who was too
penetrating not to know that no man could live with much comfort, with
a woman of the Countess's stamp, of whose morals he had a bad opinion;
he insinuated to Carre some suspicions, and those well founded,
against her honour; he dissuaded him with all the warmth of the
sincerest friendship, to desist from a match that would involve him in
misery, and not to suffer his passion for her beauty to have so much
sway over him, as to make him sacrifice his peace to its indulgence.
Carre, who was desperately in love, forgetting the ties of honour as
well as friendship, communicated to the lady, what Overbury had said
of her, and they who have read the heart of woman, will be at no loss
to conceive what reception she gave that unwelcome report. She knew,
that Carre was immoderately attached to Overbury, that he was directed
by his Council in all things, and devoted to his interest.
Earth has no curse like love to hatred turn'd,
Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorn'd.
This was literally verified in the case of the countess; she let loose
all the rage of which she was capable against him, and as she panted
for the consummation of the match between Carre and her, she so
influenced the Viscount, that he began to conceive a hatred likewise
to Overbury; and while he was thus subdued by the charms of a wicked
woman, he seemed to change his nature, and from the gentle, easy,
accessible, good-natured man he formerly appeared, he degenerated into
the sullen, vindictive, and implacable. One thing with respect to the
countess ought not to be omitted. She was wife of the famous Earl of
Essex, who afterwards headed the army of the parliament against the
King, and to whom the imputation of impotence was laid. The Countess,
in order to procure a divorce from her husband, gave it out that tho'
she had been for some time in a married state, she was yet a virgin,
and which it seems sat very uneasy upon her. To prove this, a jury of
matrons were to examine her and give their opinion, whether she was,
or was not a Virgin: This scrutiny the Countess did not care to
undergo, and therefore entreated the favour that she might enter
masked to save her blushes; this was granted her, and she took care
to have a young Lady provided, of much the same size and exterior
appearance, who personated her, and the jury asserted her to be
an unviolated Virgin. This precaution in the Countess, no doubt,
diminishes her character, and is a circumstance not favourable to her
honour; for if her husband had been really impotent as she pretended,
she needed not have been afraid of the search; and it proves that she
either injured her husband, by falsely aspersing him, or that she had
violated her honour with other men. But which ever of these causes
prevailed, had the Countess been wise enough, she had no occasion to
fear the consequences of a scrutiny; for if I am rightly informed, a
jury of old women can no more judge accurately whether a woman has
yielded her virginity, than they can by examining a dead body, know
of what distemper the deceased died; but be that as it may, the whole
affair is unfavourable to her modesty; it shews her a woman of
irregular passions, which poor Sir Thomas Overbury dearly
experienced; for even after the Countess was happy in the embraces
of the Earl of Somerset, she could not forbear the persecution of him;
she procured that Sir Thomas should be nominated by the King to go
ambassador to Russia, a destination she knew would displease him, it
being then no better than a kind of honourable grave; she likewise
excited Earl Somerset to seem again his friend, and to advise him
strongly to refuse the embassy, and at the fame time insinuate, that
if he should, it would only be lying a few weeks in the Tower, which to
a man well provided in all the necessaries, as well as comforts of
Life, had no great terror in it. This expedient Sir Thomas embraced,
and absolutely refused to go abroad; upon which, on the twenty-first
of April 1613, he was sent prisoner to the Tower, and put under the
care of Sir Gervis Yelvis, then lord lieutenant. The Countess being so
far successful, began now to conceive great hopes of compleating her
scheme of assassination, and drew over the Earl of Somerset her
husband, to her party, and he who a few years before, had obtained
the honour of knighthood for Overbury, was now so enraged against
him, that he coincided in taking measures to murder his friend. Sir
Gervis Yelvis, who obtained the lieutenancy by Somerset's interest,
was a creature devoted to his pleasure. He was a needy man, totally
destitute of any principles of honour, and was easily prevailed upon
to forward a scheme for destroying poor Overbury by poison.
Accordingly they consulted with one Mrs. Turner, the first inventer
(says Winstanley of that horrid garb of yellow ruffs and cuffs, and in
which garb he was afterwards hanged) who having acquaintance with
one James Franklin, a man who it seems was admirably fitted to be
a Cut-throat, agreed with him to provide that which would not kill
presently, but cause one to languish away by degrees. The lieutenant
being engaged in the conspiracy, admits one Weston, Mrs. Turner's
man, who under pretence of waiting on Sir Thomas, was to do the
horrid deed. The plot being thus formed, and success promising
so fair, Franklin buys various poisons, White Arsenick,
Mercury-Sublimate, Cantharides, Red-Mercury, with three or four
other deadly ingredients, which he delivered to Weston, with
instructions how to use them; who put them into his broth and meat,
increasing and diminishing their strength according as he saw him
affected; besides these, the Countess sent him by way of present,
poisoned tarts and jellies: but Overbury being of a strong
constitution, held long out against their influence: his body broke
out in blotches and blains, which occasioned the report industriously
propagated by Somerset, of his having died of the French Disease. At
last they produced his death by the application of a poisoned
clyster, by which he next day in painful agonies expired. Thus
(says Winstanley) "by the malice of a woman that worthy Knight was
murthered, who yet still lives in that witty poem of his, entitled, A
Wife, as is well expressed by the verses under his picture."
A man's best fortune or his worst's a wife,
Yet I, that knew no marriage, peace nor strife
Live by a good one, by a bad one lost my life.
Of all crimes which the heart of man conceives, as none is so enormous
as murder, so it more frequently meets punishment in this life than
any other. This barbarous assassination was soon revealed; for
notwithstanding what the conspirators had given out, suspicions ran
high that Sir Thomas was poisoned; upon which Weston was strictly
examined by Lord Cook, who before his lordship persisted in denying
the same; but the Bishop of London afterwards conversing with him,
pressing the thing home to his conscience, and opening all the terrors
of another life to his mind, he was moved to confess the whole. He
related how Mrs. Turner and the Countess became acquainted, and
discovered all those who were any way concerned in it; upon which they
were all apprehended, and some sent to Newgate, and others to the
Tower. Having thus confessed, and being convicted according to due
course of law, he was hanged at Tyburn, after him Mrs. Turner, after
her Franklin, then Sir Gervis Yelvis, being found guilty on their
several arraignments, were executed; some of them died penitent. The
Earl and the Countess were both condemned, but notwithstanding their
guilt being greater than any of the other criminals, the King, to the
astonishment of all his subjects, forgave them, but they were both
forbid to appear at court.
There was something strangely unaccountable in the behaviour of
Somerset after condemnation. When he was asked what he thought of
his condition, and if he was preparing to die, he answered, that he
thought not of it at all, for he was sure the King durst not command
him to be executed. This ridiculous boasting and bidding defiance to
his majesty's power, was construed by some in a very odd manner; and
there were not wanting those who asserted, that Somerset was privy
to a secret of the King's, which if it had been revealed, would have
produced the strangest consternation in the kingdom that ever was
known, and drawn down infamy upon his majesty for ever; but as nothing
can be ascertained concerning it, it might seem unfair to impute to
this silly Prince more faults than he perhaps committed: It is certain
he was the slave of his favourites, and not the most shocking crime
in them, it seems, could entirely alienate his affections, and it is
doubtful whether the saving of Somerset or the execution of Raleigh
reflects most disgrace upon his reign. Some have said, that the body
of Sir Thomas Overbury was thrown into an obscure pit; but Wood, says
it appears from the Tower registers, that it was interred in the
chapel; which seems more probable. There is an epitaph which
Winstanley has preserved, written by our author upon himself, which I
shall here insert, as it serves to illustrate his versification.
The span of my days measured here I rest,
That is, my body; but my soul, his guest
Is hence ascended, whither, neither time,
Nor faith, nor hope, but only love can climb,
Where being new enlightened, she doth know
The truth, of all men argue of below:
Only this dust, doth here in pawn remain,
That when the world dissolves, she come again.
The works of Overbury besides his Wife, which is reckoned the wittiest
and most finished of all, are, first Characters, or witty descriptions
of the prophesies of sundry persons. This piece has relation to some
characters of his own time, which can afford little satisfaction to a
modern reader.
Second, The Remedy of Love in two parts, a poem 1620, Octavo, 2s.
Third, Observations in his Travels, on the State. of the seventeen
Provinces, as they stood anno 1609.
Fourth, Observations on the Provinces united, and the state of France,
printed London 1631.
Sir Thomas was about 32 years old when he was murthered, and is said
to have possessed an accuteness, and strength of parts that was
astonishing; and some have related that he was proud of his abilities,
and over-bearing in company; but as there is no good authority for the
assertion, it is more agreeable to candour to believe him the amiable
knight Winstanley draws him; as it seldom happens that a soul formed
for the noble quality of friendship is haughty and insolent. There is
a tragedy of Sir Thomas Overbury wrote by the late Richard Savage, son
of earl Rivers, which was acted in 1723, (by what was then usually
called The Summer Company) with success; of which we shall speak more
at large in the life of that unfortunate gentleman.
[Footnote 1: Wood Athen. Oxon.]
[Footnote 2: Winst. ubi supra.]
[Footnote 3: Winst. ubi supra.]
* * * * *
JOHN MARSTEN.
There are few things on record concerning this poet's life. Wood says,
that he was a student in Corpus-Christi College, Oxon; but in what
country he was born, or of what family descended, is no where fixed.
Mr. Langbain says, he can recover no other information of him, than
what he learned from the testimony of his bookseller, which is, "That
he was free from all obscene speeches, which is the chief cause of
making plays odious to virtuous and modest persons; but he abhorred
such writers and their works, and professed himself an enemy to all
such as stuffed their scenes with ribaldry, and larded their lines
with scurrilous taunts, and jests, so that whatsoever even in the
spring of his years he presented upon the private and public theatre,
in his autumn and declining age he needed not to to be ashamed of."
He lived in friendship with the famous Ben Johnson, as appears by his
addressing to his name a tragi-comedy, called Male-Content: but we
afterwards find him reflecting pretty severely on Ben, on account of
his Cataline and Sejanus, as the reader will find on the perusal of
Marsten's Epistle, prefixed to Sophonisba.--"Know, says he, that I
have not laboured in this poem, to relate any thing as an historian,
but to enlarge every thing as a poet. To transcribe authors, quote
authorities, and to translate Latin prose orations into English
blank verse, hath in this subject been the least aim of my
studies."----Langbain observes, that none who are acquainted
with the works of Johnson can doubt that he is meant here,
if they will compare the orations in Salust with those in Cataline. On
what provocation Marsten thus censured his friend is unknown, but the
practice has been too frequently pursued, so true is it, as Mr. Gay
observes of the wits, that they are oft game cocks to one another, and
sometimes verify the couplet.
That they are still prepared to praise or to abhor
us,
Satire they have, and panegyric for us.----
Marsten has contributed eight plays to the stage, which were all acted
at the Black Fryars with applause, and one of them called the Dutch
Courtezan, was once revived since the Restoration, under the title of
the Revenge, or a Match in [1]Newgate. In the year 1633 six of
this author's plays were collated and published in one volume, and
dedicated to the lady viscountess Faulkland. His dramatic works are
these:
Antonio and Melida, a history, acted by the children of St. Paul's,
printed in 1633.
Antonius's Revenge; or the second part of Antonio and Melida. These
two plays were printed in Octavo several years before the new edition.
Dutch Courtezan, a comedy frequently played at Black Fryars, by the
children of the Queen's Revels, printed in London 1633. It is taken
from a French book called Les Contes du Mende. See the same story in
English, in a book of Novels, called the Palace of Pleasure in the
last Novel.
Insatiate Countess, a Tragedy, acted at White-Fryars, printed in
Quarto 1603, under the title of Isabella the insatiable countess of
Suevia. It is said that he meant Joan the first queen of Jerusalem,
Naples, and Sicily. The life of this queen has employed many pens,
both on poetry and novels. Bandello has related her story under the
title of the Inordinate Life of the Countess of Celant. The like story
is related in God's Revenge against Adultery, under the name of Anne
of Werdenberg, duchess of Ulme.
Male Content, a Tragi Comedy, dedicated to old Ben, as I have already
taken notice, in which he heaps many fine epithets upon him. The first
design of this play was laid by Mr. Webster.
Parasitaster; or the Fawn, a comedy, often presented at the Black
Fryars, by the children of the queen's Revels, printed in Octavo 1633.
This play was formerly printed in quarto, 1606. The Plot of Dulcimers
cozening the Duke by a pretended discovery of Tiberco's love to her,
is taken from Boccace's Novels.
What you will, a comedy, printed Octavo, London, 1653. This is said
to be one of our author's best plays. The design taken from Plautus's
Amphitrion.
Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba, a tragedy, acted at Black Fryars,
printed in Octavo, 1633. The English reader will find this story
described by Sir Walter Raleigh, in his history of the world. B. 5.
Besides his dramatic poetry he writ three books of Satires, entitled,
The Scourge of Villany, printed in Octavo, London 1598. We have no
account in what year our author died, but we find that his works were
published after his death by the great Shakespear, and it may perhaps
be reasonably concluded that it was about the year 1614.
[Footnote 1: The late Mr. C. Bullock, a comedian, and some time
manager of Lincoln's-Inn-Fields theatre, _made_ a play from that
piece.]
* * * * *
WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR.
There have been some ages in which providence seemed pleased in a
most remarkable manner to display it self, in giving to the world the
finest genius's to illuminate a people formerly barbarous. After a
long night of Gothic ignorance, after many ages of priestcraft and
superstition, learning and genius visited our Island in the days of
the renowned Queen Elizabeth. It was then that liberty began to dawn,
and the people having shook off the restraints of priestly austerity,
presumed to think for themselves. At an Æra so remarkable as this, so
famous in history, it seems no wonder that the nation would be blessed
with those immortal ornaments of wit and learning, who all conspired
at once to make it famous.----This astonishing genius, seemed to be
commissioned from above, to deliver us not only from the ignorance
under which we laboured as to poetry, but to carry poetry almost to
its perfection. But to write a panegyric on Shakespear appears as
unnecessary, as the attempt would be vain; for whoever has any taste
for what is great, terrible, or tender, may meet with the amplest
gratification in Shakespear; as may those also have a taste for
drollery and true humour. His genius was almost boundless, and he
succeeded alike in every part of writing. I cannot forbear giving the
character of Shakespear in the words of a great genius, in a prologue
spoken by Mr. Garrick when he first opened Drury-lane house as
Manager.
When learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes,
First rear'd the stage;----immortal Shakespear rose,
Each change of many-coloured life he drew,
Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new,
Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,
And panting time toiled after him, in vain.
All men have discovered a curiosity to know the little stories and
particularities of a great genius; for it often happens, that when
we attend a man to his closet, and watch his moments of solitude, we
shall find such expressions drop from him, or we may observe such
instances of peculiar conduct, as will let us more into his real
character, than ever we can discover while we converse with him in
public, and when perhaps he appears under a kind of mask. There are
but few things known of this great man; few incidents of his life have
descended to posterity, and tho' no doubt the fame of his abilities
made a great noise in the age in which he flourished; yet his station
was not such as to produce many incidents, as it was subject to but
few vicissitudes. Mr. Rowe, who well understood, and greatly admired
Shakespear, has been at pains to collect what incidents were known,
or were to be found concerning him, and it is chiefly upon Mr. Rowe's
authority we build the account now given.
Our author was the son of John Shakespear, and was born at Stratford
upon Avon in Warwickshire, April 1564, at it appears by public records
relating to that town. The family from which he is descended was of
good figure and fashion there, and are mentioned as gentlemen. His
father, who was a considerable dealer in wool, being incumbred with a
large family of ten children, could afford to give his eldest son
but a slender education. He had bred him at a free school, where he
acquired what Latin he was master of, but how well he understood that
language, or whether after his leaving the school he made greater
proficiency in it, has been disputed and is a point very difficult to
settle. However it is certain, that Mr. John Shakespear, our author's
father, was obliged to withdraw him early from school, in order to
have his assistance in his own employment, towards supporting the rest
of the family. "It is without controversy, says Rowe, that in his
works we scarce find any traces that look like an imitation of the
ancients. The delicacy of his taste, and the natural bent of his own
great genius, equal, if not superior to some of the best of theirs,
would certainly have led him to read and study them with so much
pleasure, that some of their fine images would naturally have
insinuated themselves into, and been mixed with his own writings; so
that his not copying at least something from them, may be an argument
of his never having read them. Whether his ignorance of the ancients
was disadvantageous to him or no, may admit of dispute; for tho' the
knowledge of them might have made him more correct, yet it is not
improbable, but that the regularity and deference for them which would
have attended that correctness, might have restrained some of that
fire, impetuosity, and even beautiful extravagance, which we cannot
help admiring in Shakespear."
As to his want of learning, Mr. Pope makes the following just
observation: That there is certainly a vast difference between
learning and languages. How far he was ignorant of the latter, I
cannot (says he) determine; but it is plain he had much reading, at
least, if they will not call it learning; nor is it any great matter
if a man has knowledge, whether he has it from one language or from
another. Nothing is more evident, than that he had a taste for natural
philosophy, mechanics, ancient and modern history, poetical learning,
and mythology. We find him very knowing in the customs, rites, and
manners of the Romans. In Coriolanus, and Julius Cæsar, not only the
spirit but manners of the Romans are exactly drawn; and still a nicer
distinction is shewn between the manners of the Romans in the time of
the former and the latter. His reading in the ancient historians is no
less conspicuous, in many references to particular passages; and
the speeches copied from Plutarch in Coriolanus may as well be made
instances of his learning as those copied from Cicero in the Cataline
of Ben Johnson. The manners of other nations in general, the
Ægyptians, Venetians, French, &c. are drawn with equal propriety.
Whatever object of nature, or branch of science, he either speaks or
describes, it is always with competent, if not extensive, knowledge.
His descriptions are still exact, and his metaphors appropriated,
and remarkably drawn from the nature and inherent qualities of each
subject.----We have translations from Ovid published in his name,
among those poems which pass for his, and for some of which we have
undoubted authority, being published by himself, and dedicated to the
Earl of Southampton. He appears also to have been conversant with
Plautus, from whence he has taken the plot of one of his plays; he
follows the Greek authors, and particularly Dares Phrygius in another,
although I will not pretend, continues Mr. Pope, to say in what
language he read them.
Mr. Warburton has strongly contended for Shakespear's learning, and
has produced many imitations and parallel passages with ancient
authors, in which I am inclined to think him right, and beg leave to
produce few instances of it. He always, says Mr. Warbur-ton, makes
an ancient speak the language of an ancient. So Julius Cæsar, Act I.
Scene II.
----Ye Gods, it doth amazs me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone.
This noble image is taken from the Olympic games. This majestic world
is a fine periphrasis of the Roman Empire; majestic, because the
Romans ranked themselves on a footing with kings, and a world, because
they called their empire Orbis Romanus; but the whole story seems to
allude to Cæsar's great exemplar, Alexander, who, when he was asked
whether he would run the course of the Olympic games, replied, 'Yes,
if the racers were kings.'--So again in Anthony and Cleopatra, Act I.