as himself. Spenser's stanza pleased him not, nor his matter; the
meaning of the allegory of the Fairy Queen he delivered in writing
to Sir Walter Raleigh, which was, that by the bleating beast he
understood the Puritans; and by the false Duessa, the Queen of Scots.
Samuel Daniel was a good honest man, had no children, and was no poet,
and that he had wrote the civil wars without having one battle in all
his book. That Drayton's Poly-olbion, if he had performed what he
promised to write, the Deeds of all the Worthies, had been excellent.
That Sylvester's translation of Du Bartas was not well done, and that
he wrote his verses before he understood to confer; and those of
Fairfax were not good. That the translations of Homer and Virgil in
long Alexandrines were but prose. That Sir John Harrington's Ariosto
of all translations was the worst. He said Donne was originally
a poet; his grandfather on the mother's side, was Heywood the
epigramatist. That Donne for not being understood would perish. He
affirmed, that Donne wrote all his best pieces before he was twenty
years of age. He told Donne, that his Anniversary was prophane, and
fall of blasphemies, that if it had been written on the virgin Mary
it had been tolerable. To which Donne answered, that he described the
idea of a woman but not as she was. That Sir Walter Raleigh esteemed
fame more than conscience; the best wits in England were employed in
making his history. Ben himself had written a piece to him on the
Punic war, which he altered and put in his book. He said there was
no such ground for an heroic poem, as King Arthur's fiction, and Sir
Philip Sidney had an intention of turning all his Arcadia to
the stories of King Arthur. He said Owen was a poor pedantic
school-master, sucking his living from the posteriors of little
children, and has nothing good in him, his epigrams being bare
narrations. He loved Fletcher, Beaumont and Chapman. That Sir William
Alexander was not half kind to him, and neglected him because a friend
to Drayton. That Sir R. Ayton loved him dearly; he fought several
times with Marston, and says that Marston wrote his father in Law's
preachings, and his father in law his comedies."
Mr. Drummond has represented the character of our author in a very
disadvantageous, though perhaps not in a very unjust light. "That he
was a great lover and praiser of himself; a contemner and scorner of
others, rather chusing to lose a friend than a jest; jealous of every
word and action of those about him, especially after drink, which was
one of the elements in which he lived; a dissembler of the parts which
reigned in him; a bragger of some good that he wanted: he thought
nothing right, but what either himself or some of his friends had said
or done. He was passionately kind and angry; careless either to
gain or to keep, vindictive, but if he was well answered, greatly
chagrined; interpreting the best sayings and deeds often to the worst.
He was for any religion, being versed in all; his inventions were
smooth and easy, but above all he excelled in translation. In short,
he was in his personal character the very reverse of Shakespear, as
surly, ill-natured, proud and disagreeable, as Shakespear with ten
times his merit was gentle, good-natured, easy and amiable." He had a
very strong memory; for he tells himself in his discoveries that he
could in his youth have repeated all that he had ever written, and so
continued till he was past forty; and even after that he could have
repeated whole books that he had read, and poems of some select
friends, which he thought worth remembring.
Mr. Pope remarks, that when Ben got possesion of the stage, he brought
critical learning into vogue, and that this was not done without
difficulty, which appears from those frequent lessons (and indeed
almost declamations) which he was forced to prefix to his first plays,
and put into the mouths of his actors, the Grex, Chorus, &c. to remove
the prejudices and inform the judgement of his hearers. Till then
the English authors had no thoughts of writing upon the model of the
ancients: their tragedies were only histories in dialogue, and their
comedies followed the thread of any novel, as they found it, no less
implicitly than if it had been true history. Mr. Selden in his preface
to his titles of honour, stiles Johnson, his beloved friend and a
singular poet, and extols his special worth in literature, and his
accurate judgment. Mr. Dryden gives him the title of the greatest man
of the last age, and observes, that if we look upon him, when he was
himself, (for his last plays were but his dotages) he was the most
learned and judicious writer any theatre ever had; that he was a most
severe judge of himself as well as others; that we cannot say he
wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it; that in his works
there is little to be retrenched or altered; but that humour was his
chief province.
Ben had certainly no great talent for versification, nor does he seem
to have had an extraordinary ear; his verses are often wanting in
syllables, and sometimes have too many.
I shall quote some lines of his poem to the memory of Shakespear,
before I give a detail of his pieces.
To the memory of my beloved the author Mr. WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR, and
what he hath left us.
To draw no envy (Shakespear) on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame:
While I confess thy writings to be such,
As neither man nor muse can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise:
For silliest ignorance, on these may light,
Which when it sounds at best but ecchoes right;
As blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
The truth; but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
A crafty malice might pretend his praise,
And think to ruin where it seem'd to raise.
These are, as some infamous baud or whore,
Should praise a matron: What could hurt her more?
But thou art proof against them, and indeed,
Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need.
I therefore will begin. Soul of the age!
Th' applause, delight, the wonder of the stage!
My Shakespear rise; I will not lodge thee by,
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye,
A little further to make thee a room:
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still, while the book doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses;
I mean with great but disproportion'd muses:
For if I thought, my judgment were of years,
I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
And tell how far thou did'st our Lily outshine,
Or sporting Kid, or Marlow's mighty line.
He then goes on to challenge all antiquity to match Shakespear; but
the poetry is so miserable, that the reader will think the above
quotation long enough.
Ben has wrote above fifty several pieces which we may rank under the
species of dramatic poetry; of which I shall give an account in order,
beginning with one of his best comedies.
1. [6] Alchymist, a comedy, acted in the year 1610. Mr. Dryden
supposes this play was copied from the comedy of Albumazer, as far
as concerns the Alchymist's character; as appears from his prologue
prefixed to that play, when it was revived in his time.
2. Bartholomew Fair, a comedy, acted at the Hope on the Bankside,
October 31, in 1614, by the lady Elizabeth's servants, and then
dedicated to James I.
3. Cataline's conspiracy, a tragedy, first acted in the year 1611. In
this our author has translated a great part of Salust's history; and
it is when speaking of this play, that Dryden says, he did not borrow
but commit depredations upon the ancients. Tragedy was not this
author's talent; he was totally without tenderness, and was so far
unqualified for tragedy.
4. Challenge at Tilt, at a Marriage, printed 1640.
5. Christmas's Masque, presented at court 1616.
6. Cloridia, or the Rites of Cloris and her Nymphs, personated in a
Masque at court, by the Queen and her Ladies, at Shrove Tide, 1630.
7. Cynthia's Revels, or the Fountain of Self-love, a comical
Satire, first acted in the year 1600, by the then children of Queen
Elizabeth's chapel, with the allowance of the Master of the Revels,
printed in folio, 1640.
8. The Devil is an Ass, a Comedy, acted in the year 1616.
9. Entertainment of King James in passing his Coronation, printed in
folio, 1640.
10. Entertainment in Private of the King and Queen on May-day in the
morning, at Sir William Cornwallis's house at Highgate, 1604.
11. Entertainment of King James and Queen at Theobald's, when the
house was delivered up, with the possession to the Queen, by the earl
of Salisbury 1607, the Prince of Janvile, brother to the Duke of Guise
being then present.
12. Entertainment in particular of the Queen and Prince, their
Highnesses at Althrope at the Lord Spenser's, 1603, as they came first
into the kingdom.
13. Entertainment of the Two Kings of Great Britain and Denmark, at
Theobald's, July 24th 1606, printed 1640.
14. Every Man in his Humour, a Comedy, acted in the year 1598, by the
then Lord Chamberlain's servants, and dedicated to Mr. Camden. This
play has been often revived since the restoration.
15. Every Man out of his Humour, a comical Satire, first acted 1599,
and dedicated to the Inns of Court. This play was revived 1675, at
which time a new Prologue and Epilogue were spoke by Jo. Haynes,
written by Mr. Duffel.
16. Fortunate Isles, and their Union celebrated, in a Masque, designed
for the Court on Twelfth-Night, 1626.
17. Golden Age Restored, in a Masque, at Court 1615, by the Lords and
Gentlemen, the King's servants.
18. Hymenæi, or the Solemnities of a Masque, and Barriers at a
Marriage, printed 1640. To this Masque are annexed by the author,
Notes on the Margin, for illustration of the ancient Greek and Roman
Customs.
19. Irish Masque, at Court, by the King's servants.
20. King's Entertainment at Welbeck in Nottinghamshire, at the House
of the Right Honourable William, Earl of Newcastle, at his going to
Scotland, 1633.
21. Love freed from Ignorance and Folly, a Masque.
22. Love Restored, in a Masque, at Court, 1630.
23. Love's Welcome, the King and Queen's Entertainment at Bolsover, at
the Earl of Newcastle's, 1634.
24. Magnetick Lady, or Humours Reconciled, a Comedy, acted at the
Black Fryars, and printed 1640. This play was smartly and virulently
attacked by Dr. Gill, Master of St. Paul's school, part of which, on
account of the answer which Ben gave to it, we shall take the trouble
to transcribe.
But to advise thee Ben, in this strict age,
A brick-hill's better for thee than a stage;
Thou better know'st a Groundfil for to lay
Than lay a plot, or Groundwork of a play,
And better canst direct to cap a chimney,
Than to converse with Chlio, or Polyhimny.
Fall then to work in thy old age agen,
Take up thy trug and trowel, gentle Ben,
Let plays alone; or if thou need'st will write,
And thrust thy feeble muse into the light;
Let Lowen cease, and Taylor scorn to touch,
The loathed stage, for thou hast made it such.
These lines are without wit, and without poetry; they contain a mean
reflexion on Ben's original employment, of which he had no occasion to
be ashamed; but he was paid in kind, and Ben answers him with equal
virulence, and in truth it cannot be said with more wit or poetry, for
it is difficult to determine which author's verses are most wretched.
Shall the prosperity of a pardon still
Secure thy railing rhymes, infamous Gill,
At libelling? shall no star chamber peers,
Pillory, nor whip, nor want of ears,
All which thou hast incurred deservedly,
Nor degradation from the ministry
To be the Denis of thy father's school,
Keep in thy bawling wit, thou bawling fool.
Thinking to stir me, thou hast lost thy end,
I'll laugh at thee, poor wretched Tyke, go send
Thy boltant muse abroad, and teach it rather
A tune to drown the ballads of thy father.
For thou hast nought to cure his fame,
But tune and noise, and eccho of his shame.
A rogue by statute, censured to be whipt,
Cropt, branded, flit, neck-flockt: go, you are stript.
25. Masque, at the Lord Viscount Hadington's Marriage at Court, on
Shrove Tuesday at night, 1608.
26. Masque of Augurs, with several Antimasques, presented on Twelfth
Night, 1608.
27. Masque of Owls, at Kenelworth, presented by the Ghost of Captain
Cox, mounted on his Hobby-Horse, 1626.
28. Masque of Queens celebrated from the House of Fame, by the Queen
of Great Britain with her Ladies at Whitehall, 1609.
29. Masque, presented in the house of lord Hay by several noblemen,
1617, for the French ambassador.
30. Metamorphosed Gypsies, a Masque, thrice presented to King James,
1621.
31. Mercury vindicated from the Alchymist's, at Court.
32. Mortimer's Fall, a Tragedy, or rather a fragment, being just begun
and left imperfect by his death.
33. Neptune's Triumph for the return of Albion, in a Masque, at court.
34. News from the New World discovered in the Moon, presented 1620 at
court.
35. Oberon, the Fairy Prince, a Masque, of Prince Henry's.
36. Pan's Anniversary, or the Shepherd's Holiday, a Masque, 1625.
37. Pleasure reconciled to Virtue, a Masque, presented at court, 1619.
38. Poetaster, or his Arraignment, a comical Satire, first acted in
the year 1601.
39. Queen's Masques, the first of Blackness, presented 1605; the
second of Beauty, was presented at the same court 1608.
40. Sad Shepherd, or a Tale of Robin Hood, a Pastoral.
41. Sejanus's Fall, a Tragedy, acted in the year 1603. This play has
met with success, and was ushered into the world by nine copies of
verses, one of which was writ by Mr. Chapman. Mr. Gentleman has lately
published a Tragedy under the same title, in which he acknowledges the
parts he took from Johnson.
42.[6] Silent Woman, a Comedy, first acted in the year 1609. This is
reckoned one of Ben's best comedies; Mr. Dryden has done it the honour
to make some criticisms upon it.
43. Speeches at Prince Henry's Barriers, printed in folio 1640.
44. Staple of News, a Comedy, acted in the year 1625.
45. Tale of a Tub, a Comedy.
46. Time vindicated to himself and to his Honour, presented 12 nights,
1623.
47.[6] Volpone, or the Fox, a Comedy, first acted in the year 1605;
this is one of his acted plays.
48. Case is altered, a Comedy, acted and printed 1609.
49. Widow, a Comedy, acted at the private house in Black Fryars.
50. New Inn, or the Light Heart, a Comedy, acted 1629. This play did
not succeed to his expectation, and Ben being filled with indignation
at the people's want of taste, wrote an Ode addressed to himself on
that occasion, advising him to quit the stage, which was answered by
Mr. Feltham.
Thus have we given a detail of Ben Johnson's works. He is allowed to
have been a scholar, and to have understood and practised the dramatic
rules; but Dryden proves him to have likewise been an unbounded
plagiary. Humour was his talent; and he had a happy turn for an
epitaph; we cannot better conclude his character as a poet, than in
the nervous lines of the Prologue quoted in the Life of Shakespear.
After having shewn Shakespear's boundless genius, he continues,
Then Johnson came instructed from the school
To please by method, and invent by rule.
His studious patience, and laborious art
With regular approach assay'd the heart;
Cold approbation gave the ling'ring bays,
For they who durst not censure, scarce could
praise.
[Footnote 1: Drummond of Hawthornden's works, fol. 224. Edinburgh
Edition, 1711.]
[Footnote 2: Birch's Lives of Illustrious Men.]
[Footnote 3: See Shakespear]
[Footnote 4: See Drummond's works.]
[Footnote 5: Wood.]
[Footnote 6: The Alchymist, the Fox, and the Silent Woman, have been
oftner acted than all the rest of Ben Johnson's plays put together;
they have ever been generally deemed good stock-plays, and been
performed to many crowded audiences, in several separate seasons, with
universal applause. Why the Silent Woman met not with success, when
revived last year at Drury Lane Theatre, let the new critics, or the
actors of the New Mode, determine.]
* * * * *
THOMAS CAREW, Esq;
Was descended of a very ancient and reputable family of the Carews in
Devonshire, and was brother to Matthew Carews, a great royalist, in
the time of the rebellion; he had his education in Corpus Christi
College, but he appears not to have been matriculated as a member, or
that he took a scholastic degree[1]; afterwards improving his parts by
travelling, and conversation with ingenious men in the Metropolis, he
acquired some reputation for his wit and poetry. About this time being
taken notice of at court for his ingenuity, he was made Gentleman of
the Privy Chamber, and Sewer in ordinary to King Charles I. who always
esteemed him to the last, one of the most celebrated wits about his
court[2]. He was much esteemed and respected by the poets of his time,
especially by Ben Johnson. Sir John Suckling, who had a great kindness
for him, could not let him pass in his session of poets without this
character,
Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault,
That would not well stand with a Laureat;
His muse was hide-bound, and the issue of's brain
Was seldom brought forth, but with trouble and pain.
The works of our author are,
Poems; first printed in Octavo, and afterwards being revised and
enlarged, there were several editions of them made, the third in 1654,
and the fourth in 1670. The songs in these poems were set to music, or
as Wood expresses it, wedded to the charming notes of Mr. Henry
Lawes, at that time the greatest musical composer in England, who was
Gentleman of the King's Chapel, and one of the private musicians to
his Majesty.
Coelum Britannicum; A Mask at Whitehall in the Banquetting House, on
Shrove Tuesday night February 18, 1633, London 1651. This Masque is
commonly attributed to Sir William Davenant. It was performed by the
King, the duke of Lenox, earls of Devonshire, Holland, Newport &c.
with several other Lords and Noblemen's Sons; he was assisted in the
contrivance by Mr. Inigo Jones, the famous architect. The Masque being
written by the King's express command, our author placed this distich
in the front, when printed;
Non habet ingenium: Cæsar sed jussit: habebo
Cur me posse negem, posse quod ille putat.
The following may serve as a specimen of the celebrated sonnets of
this elegant writer.
BOLDNESS in LOVE.
Mark how the bashful morn in vain
Courts the amorous marigold
With sighing blasts, and weeping rain;
Yet she refuses to unfold.
But when the planet of the day
Approacheth with his powerful ray,
Then she spreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin leaves.
So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy;
If thy tears and sighs discover
Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy
The just reward of a bold lover:
But when with moving accents thou
Shalt constant faith and service vow,
Thy Celia shall receive those charms
With open ears, and with unfolded arms.
Sir William Davenant has given an honourable testimony in favour of
our author, with which I shall conclude his life, after observing that
this elegant author died, much regretted by some of the best wits of
his time, in the year 1639.
Sir William Davenant thus addresses him,
Not that thy verses are so smooth and high
As glory, love, and wine, from wit can raise;
But now the Devil take such destiny!
What should commend them turns to their dispraise.
Thy wit's chief virtue, is become its vice;
For every beauty thou hast rais'd so high,
That now coarse faces carry such a price,
As must undo a lover that would buy.
[Footnote 1: Wood's Athen. Oxon. p. 630. vol. i.]
[Footnote 2: Wood's ubi supra.]
* * * * *
Sir HENRY WOTTON.
This great man was born in the year 1568, at Bocton Hall in the
county of Kent, descended of a very ancient family, who distinguished
themselves in the wars between the Scotch and English before the union
of crowns. The father of Sir Henry Wotton, (according to the account
of the learned bishop Walton,) was twice married, and after the
death of his second wife, says the bishop, 'his inclination, though
naturally averse to all contentions, yet necessitated he was to have
several suits of law, which took up much of his time; he was by divers
of his friends perswaded to remarriage, to whom he often answered,
that if he did put on a resolution to marry, he seriously resolved to
avoid three sorts of persons, namely,
Those that had children,
law suits, were of his kindred:
And yet following his own law suit, he met in Westminster Hall with
one Mrs. Morton, the widow of a gentleman of Kent, who was engaged in
several suits in law, and observing her comportment, the time of her
hearing one of her causes before the judges, he could not but at the
same time compassionate her condition, and so affect her person, that
though there were in her a concurrence of all those accidents, against
which he had so seriously resolved, yet his affection grew so strong,
that he then resolved to sollicit her for a wife, and did, and
obtained her.'
By this lady he had our author, who received the rudiments of his
education from his mother, who was it seems a woman of taste, and
capable of inspiring him with a love of polite accomplishments. When
he became fit for an academical education, he was placed in New
College in Oxford, in the beginning of the year 1584, where living in
the condition of a Gentleman Commoner, he contracted an intimacy with
Sir Richard Baker, afterwards an eminent historian. Sir Henry did
not long continue there, but removed to Queen's College, where, says
Walton, he made a great progress in logic and philosophy, and wrote a
Tragedy for the use of that college, called Tarroredo. Walton tells
us, 'that this tragedy was so interwoven with sentences, and for the
exact personating those passions and humours he proposed to represent,
he so performed, that the gravest of the society declared, that he
had in a flight employment, given an early and solid testimony of his
future abilities.'
On the 8th of June, says Wood, 1588, he as a member of Queen's
College, supplicated the venerable congregation of regents, that he
might be admitted to the degree of Bachelor of Arts, which desire was
granted conditionally, that he should determine the Lent following,
but whether he was admitted, or did determine, or took any degree,
does not appear in any of the university registers; though Mr. Walton
says, that about the twentieth year of his age, he proceeded Master of
Arts, and at that time read in Latin three lectures de Ocello. During
the time he was at the university, and gaining much upon mankind by
the reputation of his abilities, his father, for whom he had the
highest veneration, died, and left him a hundred marks a year, to
be paid out of one of his manors of great value. Walton proceeds to
relate a very astonishing circumstance concerning the father of our
author, which as it is of the visionary sort, the reader may credit,
or not, as he pleases; it is however too curious to be here omitted,
especially as the learned prelate Walton already mentioned has told it
with great earnestness, as if he was persuaded of its reality.
In the year 1553, Nicholas Wotton, dean of Canterbury, uncle to our
author's father, being ambassador in France in the reign of queen
Mary, dreamed, that his nephew Thomas Wotton, was disposed to be a
party in a very hazardous project, which if not suddenly prevented,
would issue in the loss of his life, and the ruin of his family; the
dean, who was persuaded of the importance of his own dream, was very
uneasy; but lest he should be thought superstitious, he resolved to
conceal the circumstance, and not to acquaint his nephew, or any body
else with it; but dreaming the same a second time, he determined to
put something in execution in consequence of it; he accordingly wrote
to the Queen to send for his nephew Thomas Wotton out of Kent, and
that the Lords of the Council might examine him about some imaginary
conspiracy, so as to give colour for his being committed to Jail,
declaring that he would acquaint her Majesty with the true reason of
his request, when he should next be so happy to pay his duty to her.
The Queen complied with the dean's desire, who at that time it seems
had great influence with that bigotted Princess. About this time a
marriage was concluded between the Queen of England, and Philip, King
of Spain, which not a little disobliged some of the nobility, who were
jealous left their country by such a match should be subjected to
the dominion of Spain, and their independent rights invaded by that
imperious monarch. These suspicions produced an insurrection, which
was headed by the duke of Suffolk and Sir Thomas Wyat, who both lost
their lives in the attempt to prevent the match by seizing the Queen;
for the design was soon discovered, easily defeated, and those two
persons, with many more, suffered on a scaffold.
Between Sir Thomas Wyat and the Wotton's family, there had been a
long intimacy, and Sir Thomas had really won Mr. Wotton over to his
interest, and had he not been prevented by imprisonment, he afterwards
declared that he would have joined his friend in the insurrection,
and in all probability would have fallen a sacrifice to the Queen's
resentment, and the votaries of the Spanish match.
After Sir Henry quitted the university of Oxford, he travelled into
France, Germany and Italy, where he resided above nine years, and
returned to his own country perfectly accomplished in all the polite
improvements, which men of sense acquire by travelling, and well
acquainted with the temper and genius of the people with whom he had
conversed, and the different policy of their governments. He was soon
taken notice of after his return, and became secretary to the famous
Robert Devereux, earl of Essex, that unfortunate favourite, whose
story is never exhibited on the stage, says Mr. Addison, without
affecting the heart in the most sensible manner. With his lordship he
continued in the character of secretary 'till the earl was apprehended
for his mutinous behaviour towards the Queen, and put upon his trial.
Wotton, who did not think it safe to continue in England after the
fall of his master, retired to Florence, became acquainted with the
Great Duke of Tuscany, and rose so high in his favour, that he was
entrusted by him to carry letters to James VI. King of Scots, under
the name of Octavio Baldi, in order to inform that king of a design
against his life. Walton informs us, that though Queen Elizabeth was
never willing to declare her successor, yet the King of Scots was
generally believed to be the person, on whom the crown of England
would devolve. The Queen declining very fast, both through age and
visible infirmities, "those that were of the Romish persuasion,
in point of religion, knowing that the death of the Queen, and
establishing her succession, was the crisis for destroying or
supporting the Protestant religion in this nation, did therefore
improve all opportunities for preventing a Protestant Prince to
succeed her; and as the pope's excommunication of Queen Elizabeth had
both by the judgment and practice of the jesuited Papists, exposed
her to be warrantably destroyed, so about that time, there were many
endeavours first to excommunicate, and then to shorten the life of
King James VI."
Immediately after Wotton's return from Rome to Florence, which was
about a year before the death of Queen Elizabeth; Ferdinand, the Great
Duke, had intercepted certain letters, which discovered a design
against the life of the King of Scots. The Duke abhorring the scheme
of assassination, and resolving to prevent it, advised with his
secretary Vietta, by what means a caution should be given to the
Scotch Prince. Vietta recommended Wotton as a person of the highest
abilities of any Englishman then at his court: Mr. Wotton was sent for
by his friend Vietta to the Duke, who after many professions of trust
and friendship, acquainted him with the secret, and sent him to
Scotland with letters to the King, and such antidotes against poison,
as till then, the Scots had been strangers to. Mr. Wotton having
departed from the Duke, assumed the name and language of an Italian,
which he spoke so fluently, and with so little mixture of a foreign
dialect, that he could scarcely be distinguished from a native of
Italy; and thinking it best to avoid the line of English intelligence
and danger, posted into Norway, and through that country towards
Scotland, where he found the King at Stirling.
When he arrived there, he used means by one of the gentlemen of his
Majesty's bed-chamber, to procure a speedy and private audience of his
Majesty, declaring that the business which he was to negotiate was of
such consequence, as had excited the Great Duke of Tuscany to enjoin
him suddenly to leave his native country of Italy, to impart it to the
king.
The King being informed of this, after a little wonder, mixed with
jealousy, to hear of an Italian ambassador or messenger, appointed a
private audience that evening. When Mr. Wotton came to the presence
chamber, he was desired to lay aside his long rapier, and being
entered, found the King there; with three or four Scotch lords
standing distant in several corners of the chamber; at the sight of
whom he made a stand, and which the King observing, bid him be bold,
and deliver his message, and he would undertake for the secresy of all
who were present. Upon this he delivered his message and letters to
his Majesty in Italian; which when the King had graciously received,
after a little pause, Mr. Wotton stept up to the table, and whispered
to the King in his own language that he was an Englishman, requesting
a more private conference with his Majesty, and that he might be
concealed during his stay in that nation, which was promised, and
really performed by the King, all the time he remained at the Scotch
court; he then returned to the Duke with a satisfactory account of his
employment.
When King James succeeded to the Throne of England, he found among
others of Queen Elizabeth's officers, Sir Edward Wotton, afterwards
lord Wotton, Comptroller of the Houshold, whom he asked one day,
'whether he knew one Henry Wotton, who had spent much time in foreign
travel?' Sir Edward replied, that he knew him well, and that he was
his brother. The King then asked, where he was, and upon Sir Edward's
answering that he believed he would soon be at Paris, send for him
says his Majesty, and when he comes to England, bid him repair
privately to me. Sir Edward, after a little wonder, asked his Majesty,
whether he knew him? to which the King answered, you must rest
unsatisfied of that 'till you bring the gentleman to me. Not many
months after this discourse, Sir Edward brought his brother to attend
the king, who took him in his arms, and bid him welcome under the mine
of Octavio Baldi, saying, that he was the most honest, and therefore
the best, dissembler he ever met with; and seeing I know, added the
King, you want neither learning, travel, nor experience, and that I
have had so real a testimony of your faithfulness and abilities to
manage an embassage, I have sent for you to declare my purposes,
which is to make use of you in that kind hereafter[1]. But before he
dismissed Octavio Baldi from his present attendance, he restored him
to his old name of Henry Wotton, by Which he then knighted him.
Not long after this, King James having resolved according to his motto
of beati pacifici, to have a friendship with his neighbouring kingdoms
of France and Spain, and also to enter into an alliance with the State
of Venice, and for that purpose to send ambassadors to those several
States, offered to Sir Henry his choice of which ever of these
employments best suited his inclination; who from the consideration
of his own personal estate being small, and the courts of France and
Spain extreamly sumptuous, so as to expose him to expences above his
fortune, made choice of Venice, a place of more retirement, and where
he could execute his embassy, and at the same time indulge himself in
the study of natural philosophy, in that seat of the sciences,
where he was sure to meet with men accomplished in all the polite
improvements, as well as the more solid attainments of philosophy.
Having informed the king that he chose to be sent to Venice, his
Majesty settled a very considerable allowance upon him during his stay
there; he then took his leave, and was accompanied through France to
Venice, says Walton, by gentlemen of the best families and breeding,
that this nation afforded.
When Sir Henry Wotton arrived at Venice, there subsisted between the
Venetians and the Pope a very warm contention, which was prosecuted by
both parties with equal fury. The laity made many complaints against
the two frequent practice of land being left to the church without
a licence from the state, which increased the power of the clergy,
already too great, and rendered their insolence insupportable. In
consequence of this, the state made several injunctions against
lay-persons disposing their lands in that manner. Another cause of
their quarrel was, that the Venetians had sent to Rome, several
articles of complaint against two priests, the abbot of Nervesa, and a
canon of Vicenza, for committing such abominable crimes, as Mr. Walton
says, it would be a shame to mention: Their complaints met with no
redress, and the detestable practices of these monsters in holy orders
still continuing, they seized their persons and committed them to
prison.
The justice or injustice of such power exercised by the Venetians,
produced debates between the Republic and Pope Clement VIII. Clement
soon dying, Pope Paul the first, a man of unbounded insolence, and
elated with his spiritual superiority, let loose all his rage against
the state. He judged all resistance to be a diminution of his power,
and threatened excommunication to the whole State, if a revocation was
not instantly made, which the Venetians rejecting, he proceeded in
menaces, and at last did excommunicate the Duke, the whole Senate, and
all their dominions; then he shut up the churches, charging the
clergy to forbear sacred offices to any of the Venetians, till their
obedience should make them capable of absolution. The contention was
thus fomented, till a report prevailed that the Venetians were turned
Protestants, which was believed by many, as the English embassador was
so often in conference with the Senate, and that they had made all
their proceedings known to the King of England, who would support
them, should the Pope presume to exercise any more oppressions. This
circumstance made it appear plain enough to his Holiness, that
he weakened his power by exceeding it; and being alarmed lest a
revolution should happen, offered the Venetians absolution upon very
easy terms, which the Republic still slighting, did at last obtain it,
by that which was scarce so much as a shew of desiring it. For eight
years after Sir Henry Wotton's going into Italy, he stood very high in
the King's esteem, but at last, lost his favour for some time, by an
accident too singular to be here omitted.
When he first went embassador to Italy, as he passed through Germany
he staid some days at Augsburgh, where having been in his former
travels well known by many of the first reputation in learning,
and passing an evening in merriment, he was desired by Christopher
Hecamore to write a sentence in his Album, and consenting to it, took
occasion from some accidental conversation which happened in the
company, to write a pleasant definition of an embassador in these
words. "Legatus est vir bonus, peregre-missus ad mentiendum Republicæ
causa;" which he chose should have been thus rendered into English: An
Ambassador is an honest Man, sent to lie abroad for the good of his
Country; but the word lie, upon which the conceit turned, was not
so expressed in Latin, as to admit a double meaning, or so fair a
construction as Sir Henry thought, in English. About eight years
after, this Album fell into the hands of Gaspar Scioppius, a restless
zealot, who published books against King James, and upbraided him
for entertaining such scandalous principles, as his embassador had
expressed by that sentence: This aspersion gained ground, and it
became fashionable in Venice to write this definition in several glass
windows. These incidents reaching the ear of King James, he was much
displeased with the behaviour of his embassador on that occasion, and
from an innocent piece of witticism Sir Henry was like to pay very
dear, by losing his master's favour. Upon this our author wrote two
apologies, one to Velserus, which was dispersed in Germany and Italy,
and another to the King; both which were so well written, that his
Majesty upon reading them declared, "that Sir Henry Wotton had
sufficiently commutted for a greater offence."
Upon this reconciliation, Sir Henry became more in favour with his
Majesty than ever; like friends who have been for some time separated,
they meet again with double fervour, and their friendship increases
to a greater warmth. During the twenty years which Sir Henry was
ambassador at Venice, he had the good fortune to be so well respected
by all the Dukes, and the leading men of the Republic, that his
interest every year increased, and they seldom denied him any favour
he asked for his countrymen who came to Venice; which was, as Walton
expresses it, a city of refuge for all Englishmen who were any way
distressed in that Republic. Walton proceeds to relate two particular
instances of the generosity, and tenderness of his disposition, and
the nobleness of his mind, which, as they serve to illustrate his
character, deserve a place here.
There had been many Englishmen brought by commanders of their own
country, to serve the Venetians for pay, against the Turks; and those
English, by irregularities, and imprudence, committed such offences as
brought them into prisons, and exposed them to work in gallies.
Wotton could not be an unconcerned spectator of the miseries of his
countrymen: their offences he knew proceeded rather from wantonness,
and intemperance, than any real principles of dishonour; and therefore
he thought it not beneath him to become a petitioner for their
releasement. He was happy in a successful representation of their
calamities, they were set at liberty, and had an opportunity of
returning to their own country in comfort, in place of languishing
in jails, and being slaves at the Gallies; and by this compassionate
Interposition with the Republick, he had the blessings of many
miserable wretches: the highest pleasure which any human being can
enjoy on this side immortality.
Of the generosity and nobleness of his mind, Walton gives this
instance;
Upon Sir Henry Wotton's coming a second time to Venice, he was
employed as embassador to several of the German princes, and to the
Emperor Ferdinando II. and this embassy to these princes was to
incline them to equitable measures, for the restoration of the Queen
of Bohemia, and her descendants, to their patrimonial inheritance
of the Palatinate. This was by eight months constant endeavours and
attendance upon the Emperor and his court, brought to a probability
of a successful conclusion, by a treaty; but about that time the
Emperor's army fought a battle so fortunately, as put an end to the
expected treaty, and Sir Henry Wotton's hopes, who when he quitted
the Emperor's court, humbly advised him, to use his victory with
moderation, which advice the Emperor was pleased to hear graciously,
being well satisfied with Wotton's behaviour during his residence at
his court. He then told him, that tho' the King his master was looked
upon as an abetter of his enemy, yet he could not help demonstrating
his regard to him, by making him a present of a rich jewel of
diamonds, worth more than ten thousand pounds. This was received with
all possible respect by Sir Henry; but the next morning upon his
departing from Vienna, at his taking leave of the Countess of Sabrina,
an Italian lady, in whose house he resided, he expressed his gratitude
for her civilities by presenting her with the jewel given him by the
Emperor, which being afterwards discovered, was by the Emperor taken
as an affront; but Sir Henry acknowledging his gratitude for the mark
of distinction shewn to him, at the same time declared, he did not
chuse to receive profit from any present, given him by an enemy of his
royal mistress, for so the Queen of Bohemia, the eldest daughter of
the King of England, permitted him to call her.
Upon Sir Henry Wotton's return from his embassy, he signified an
inclinacion to the King to be excused from any further employment in
foreign affairs, to retire from the bustle of life, and spend the
evening of his days in studious ease and tranquility. His Majesty in
consequence of this request, promised him the reversion of an office,
which was the place of Master of the Rolles, if he out-lived Sir
Julius Cæsar, who then possessed it, and was grown so old, that he was
said to be kept alive beyond nature's course, by the prayers of the
many people who daily lived upon his bounty. Here it will not be
improper to observe, that Sir Henry Wotton had, thro' a generosity of
temper, reduced his affairs to such a state, that he could not live
without some profitable employment, as he was indebted to many persons
for money he borrowed to support his dignity in his embassy, the
King's appointment for that purpose being either not regularly paid,
or too inconsiderable for the expence. This rendered it impossible for
him to wait the death of Sir Julius Cæsar; besides that place had been
long sollicited by that worthy gentleman for his son, and it would
have been thought an ill-natured office, to have by any means
prevented it.
It luckily happened at this time, that the Provostship of his
Majesty's college at Eaton became vacant by the death of Mr. Murray,
for which there were many earnest and powerful sollicitations. This
place was admirably suited to the course of life Wotton resolved to
pursue, for the remaining part of his days; he had seen enough of the
world to be sick of it, and being now three-score years of age, he
thought a college was the fittest place to indulge contemplation, and
to rest his body and mind after a long struggle on the theatre of
life. In his suit for this place he was happily successful, and
immediately entered into holy orders, which was necessary, before
he could take possession of his new office. Walton has related the
particular manner of his spending his time, which was divided between
attendance upon public devotion, the more private duties of religion,
and the care which his function demanded from him of the affairs of
the college. In the year 1639 Sir Henry died in Eaton-College, and
was buried in the chapel belonging to it. He directed the following
sentence to be put upon a marble monument to be erected over him.
Hic jacit hujus sententiæ primus author. Disputandi
pruritus ecclesiarum scabies. Nomen alias
quære.
Which may be thus rendered into English;
Here lyeth the first author of this sentence.
The itch of disputation will prove the scab of the
church.
Enquire his name elsewhere.
Sir Henry Wotton has been allowed by all critics to be a man of
real and great genius, an upright statesman, a polite courtier,
compassionate and benevolent to those in distress, charitable to the
poor, and in a word, an honest man and a pious christian. As a poet he
seems to have no considerable genius. His versification is harmonious,
and sometimes has an air of novelty, his turns are elegant, and his
thoughts have both dignity and propriety to recommend them. There is a
little piece amongst his collections called the World, which we shall
quote, before we give an account of his works.
The world's a bubble: and the life of man,
Less than a span.
In his conception wretched: from the womb,
So to the tomb,
Nurst from his cradle, and brought up to years,
With cares and fears.
Who then to frail mortality shall trust,
But lymns in water, or but writes in dust.
Yet whil'st with sorrow here we live opprest,
What life is best?
Courts are but only superficial schools,
To dandle fools:
The rural part is turned into a den
Of savage men:
And where's a city from vice so free,
But may be termed the word of all the three?
Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed,
Or pains his head.
Those that live single take it for a curse,
Or do things worse,
These would have children, those that have them none,
Or wish them gone:
What is it then to have, or have no wife,
But single thraldom, or a double strife?
Our own affections still at home, to please,
Is a disease.
To cross the seas, to any foreign soil
Peril and toil.
Wars with their noise, affright us, when they cease.
We're worse in peace.
What then remains, but that we still should cry
For being born, and being born to die.
He is author of the following works;
Epistola de Casparo Scioppio, Amberg. 1638, 8vo. This Scioppius was a
man of restless spirit, and had a malicious pen; who in books against
King James, took occasion from a sentence written by Sir Henry Wotton,
in a German's Album, (mentioned p. 260.) to upbraid him with what
principles of religion were professed by him, and his embassador
Wotton, then at Venice, where the said sentence was also written in
several glass windows, as hath been already observed.
Epist. ad Marc. Velserum Duumvir. Augustæ Vindelicæ, Ann. 1612.
The Elements of Architecture, Lond. 1624, 4to. in two parts,
re-printed in the Reliquæ Wottonianæ, Ann. 1651, 1654, and 1672, 8vo.
translated into Latin, and printed with the great Vitruvius, and an
eulogium on Wotton put before it. Amster. 1649, folio.
Plausus & Vota ad Regem è scotiâ reducem. Lond. 1633, in a large 4to.
or rather in a little folio, reprinted by Dr. John Lamphire, in a
book, entitled by him, Monarchia Britannica, Oxon. 1681, 8vo.
Parallel between Robert Earl of Essex, and George late Duke of
Buckingham, London 1642, in four sheets and a half in 4to.
Difference, and Disparity between the Estates, and Conditions of
George Duke of Buckingham, and Robert Earl of Essex.
Characters of, and Observations on, some Kings of England.
The Election of the New Duke of Venice, after the Death of Giopvanno
Bembo.
Philosophical Survey of Education, or moral Architecture.
Aphorisms of Education.
The great Action between Pompey and Cæsar, extracted out of the Roman
and Greek writers.
Meditations 22. [Chap. of Gen. Christmas Day]
Letters to, and Characters of certain Personages.
Various Poems.--All or most of which books, and Treatises are
re-printed in a book, entitled, Reliquæ Wottonianæ already mentioned,
Lond. 1651, 1654, 1672, and 1685, in 8vo. published by Js. Walton, at
the End of Sir Henry Wotton's life.
Letters to the Lord Zouch.
The State of Christendom: or, a more exact and curious Discovery of
many secret Passages, and hidden Mysteries of the Times, Lond. 1657,
folio.
Letters to Sir Edmund Bacon, Lond. 1661, 8vo. There are also several
Letters of his extant, which were addressed to George Duke of
Buckingham, in a Book called Cabala, Mysteries of State, Lond. 1654,
4to.
Journal of his Embassies to Venice, Manuscript, written in the Library
of Edward Lord Conway.
The Propositions to the Count d'Angosciola, relating to Duels.
[Footnote 1: Walton, ubi supra.]
* * * * *
GERVASE MARKHAM.
A gentleman who lived in the reign of Charles I. for whom he took up
arms in the time of the rebellion, being honoured by his Majesty with
a captain's commission.[1] He was the son of Robert Markham, of Cotham
in the county of Nottingham, Esq; and was famous for his numerous
volumes of husbandry, and horsemanship; besides what he has wrote on
rural recreations and military discipline, he understood both the
practice and theory of war, and was esteemed an excellent linguist,
being master of the French, Italian, and Spanish languages, from all
which he collected observations on husbandry. One piece of dramatic
poetry which he has published, says Mr. Langbaine, will shew, that he
sacrificed to Apollo and the Muses, as well as Mars and Pallas. This
play is extant under the title of Herod and Antipater, a
tragedy, printed 4to, 1622; when or where this play was acted,
Mr. Langbaine cannot determine; for, says he, the imperfection
of my copy hinders my information; for the foundation, it
is built on history: See Josephus. Mr. Langbaine then proceeds to
enumerate his other works, which he says, are famous over all England;
of these he has wrote a discourse of Horsemanship, printed 4to.
without date, and dedicated to Prince Henry, eldest son to King
James I. Cure of all Diseases incident to Horses, 4to. 1610. English
Farrier, 4to. 1649. Masterpiece, 4to. 1662. Faithful Farrier, 8vo.
1667. Perfect Horsemanship, 12mo. 1671. In Husbandry he published
Liebault's le Maison Rustique, or the Country Farm, folio, Lond. 1616.
This Treatise, which was at first translated by Mr. Richard Surfleit,
a Physician, our author enlarged with several additions from the
French books of Serris and Vinet, the Spanish of Albiterio and the
Italian of Grilli and others. The Art of Husbandry, first translated
from the Latin of Cour. Heresbachiso, by Barnaby Googe, he revived and
augmented, 4to. 1631. He wrote besides, Farewell to Husbandry,
4to. 1620. Way to get wealth, wherein is comprised his Country
Contentments, printed 4to. 1668. To this is added, Hunger's
Prevention, or the Art of Fowling, 8vo. His Epitome, 12mo. &c.--In
Military Discipline he has published the Soldier's Accidence and
Grammar, 4to. 1635--Besides these the second book of the first part of
the English Arcadia is said to be wrote by him, in so much that he
may be accounted, says Langbaine, "if not Unus in omnibus, at least
a benefactor to the public, by those works he left behind him, which
without doubt perpetuate his memory." Langbaine is lavish in his
praise, and not altogether undeservedly. To have lived a military
life, which too often engages its professors in a dissipated course of
pleasure, and at the same time, make himself master of such a variety
of knowledge, and yield so much application to study, entitles him
to hold some rank in literature. In poetry he has no name, perhaps
because he did not apply himself to it; so true is the observation
that a great poet is seldom any thing else. Poetry engages all the
powers of the mind, and when we consider how difficult it is to
acquire a name in a profession which demands so many requisites, it
will not appear strange that the sons of Apollo should seldom be
found to yield sufficient attention to any other excellence, so as to
possess it in an equal degree.
[Footnote 1: Langbaine's Lives, p. 340.]
* * * * *
THOMAS HEYWOOD
Lived in the reign of Queen Elizabeth and King James I. He was an
actor, as appears from the evidence of Mr. Kirkman, and likewise from
a piece written by him called, The Actor's Vindication. Langbaine
calls his plays second rate performances, but the wits of his time
would not permit them to rank so high. He was according to his own
confession, one of the most voluminous writers, that ever attempted
dramatic poetry in any language, and none but the celebrated Spaniard
Lopez de Vega can vie with him. In his preface to one of his plays he
observes, that this Tragi-comedy is one preserved amongst two hundred
and twenty, "in which I have had either an entire hand, or at least a
main finger." Of this prodigious number, Winstanley, Langbaine, and
Jacob agree, that twenty-four only remain; the reason Heywood himself
gives is this; "That many of them by shifting and change of companies
have been negligently lost; others of them are still retained in the
hands of some actors, who think it against their profit to have them
come in print, and a third, that it was never any great ambition in me
to be voluminously read." These seem to be more plausible reasons than
Winstanley gives for their miscarriage; "It is said that he not only
acted himself every day, but also wrote each day a sheet; and that he
might lose no time, many of his plays were composed in the tavern, on
the backside of tavern bills, which may be the occasion that so many
of them are lost." That many of our author's plays might be plann'd,
and perhaps partly composed in a tavern is very probable, but that any
part of them was wrote on a tavern bill, seems incredible, the tavern
bill being seldom brought upon the table till the guests are going to
depart; besides as there is no account of Heywood's being poor, and
when his employment is considered, it is almost impossible he could
have been so; there is no necessity to suppose this very strange
account to be true. A poet not long dead was often obliged to study
in the fields, and write upon scraps of paper, which he occasionally
borrowed; but his case was poverty, and absolute want.[1] Langbaine
observes of our author, that he was a general scholar, and a tolerable
linguist, as his several translations from Lucian, Erasmus, Texert,
Beza, Buchanan, and other Latin and Italian authors sufficiently
manifest. Nay, further, says he, "in several of his plays, he has
borrowed many ornaments from the ancients, as more particularly in his
play called the Ages, he has interspersed several things borrowed from
Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Seneca, Plautus, which extremely set them off."
What opinion the wits of his age had of him, may appear from the
following verses, extracted from of one of the poets of those
times.[2]
The squibbing Middleton, and Heywood sage,
Th' apologetick Atlas of the stage;
Well of the golden age he could entreat,
But little of the metal he could get;
Threescore sweet babes he fashion'd at a lump,
For he was christen'd in Parnassus pump;
The Muses gossip to Aurora's bed,
And ever since that time, his face was red.
We have no account how much our author was distinguished as an actor,
and it may be reasonably conjectured that he did not shine in that
light; if he had, his biographers would scarce have omitted so
singular a circumstance, besides he seems to have addicted himself
too much to poetry, to study the art of playing, which they who are
votaries of the muses, or are favoured by them, seldom think worth
their while, and is indeed beneath their genius.
The following is a particular account of our author's plays now
extant:
1. Robert Earl of Huntingdon's downfall, an historical Play, 1601,
acted by the Earl of Nottingham's servants.
2. Robert Earl of Huntingdon's Death; or Robin Hood of Merry Sherwood,
with the tragedy of chaste Matilda, 1601. The plots of these two
plays, are taken from Stow, Speed, and Baker's chronicles in the reign
of King Richard I.
3. The Golden Age, or the Lives of Jupiter and Saturn, an historical
play, acted at the Red Bull, by the Queen's servants, 1611. This play
the author stiles the eldest Brother of three Ages. For the story see
Galtruchius's poetical history, Ross's Mystagogus Poeticus; Hollyoak,
Littleton, and other dictionaries.
4. The Silver Age, 1613; including the Love of Jupiter to Alcmena. The
Birth of Hercules, and the Rape of Proserpine; concluding with the
Arraignment of the Moon. See Plautus. Ovid. Metamorph. Lib. 3.
5. The Brazen Age; an historical play, 1613. This play contains the
Death of Centaure Nessus, the tragedy of Meleager, and of Jason and
Medea, the Death of Hercules, Vulcan's Net, &c. For the story see
Ovid's Metamorph. Lib. 4--7--8--9.
6. The Iron Age; the first part a history containing the Rape of
Helen, the Siege of Troy, the Combat between Hector and Ajax. Hector
and Troilus slain by Achilles, the Death of Ajax, &c. 1632.
7. Iron Age, the second part; a History containing the Death of
Penthesilea, Paris, Priam, and Hecuba: the burning of Troy, the Deaths
of Agamemnon, Menelaus, Clytemnestra, Helena, Orestes, Egistus,
Pylades, King Diomede, Pyrrhus, Cethus, Synon, Thersetus, 1632,
which part is addressed to the author's much respected friend Thomas
Manwaring, Esq; for the plot of both parts, see Homer, Virgil, Dares
Phrygius; for the Episodes, Ovid's Epistles, Metamorph, Lucian's
Dialogues, &c.
8. A Woman kill'd with Kindness, a comedy acted by the Queen's
Servants with applause, 1617.
9. If you know not Me, you know Nobody; or the Troubles of Queen
Elizabeth, in Two parts, 1623. The plot taken from Camden, Speed, and
other English Chronicles in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
10. The Royal King, and Loyal Subject, a tragi-comedy, 1627, taken
partly from Fletcher's Loyal Subject.
The Fair Maid of the West, or a Girl worth Gold, 1631. This play was
acted before the King and Queen. Our author in his epistle prefixed to
this play, pleads modesty in not exposing his plays to the public view
of the world in numerous sheets, and a large volume under the title of
Works, as others, by which he would seem tacitly to arraign some of
his cotemporaries for ostentation, and want of modesty. Langbaine is
of opinion, that Heywood in this case levelled the accusation at
Ben Johnson, since no other poet, in those days, gave his plays the
pompous title of Works, of which Sir John Suckling has taken notice in
his session, of the poets.
The first that broke silence, was good old Ben,
Prepar'd before with Canary wine;
And he told them plainly, that he deserved the bays,
For his were called works, where others were but plays.
There was also a distich directed by some poet of that age to Ben
Johnson,
Pray tell me, Ben, where does the mystery lurk?
What others call a play, you call a work.
Which was thus answered by a friend of his,
The author's friend, thus for the author says,
Ben's plays are works, when others works are plays.
12. Fair Maid of the West, or a Girl worth Gold, the second part;
acted likewise before the King and Queen with success, dedicated to
Thomas Hammond, of Gray's-Inn, Esq;
13. The Dutchess of Suffolk, an historical play 1631. For the play see
Fox's Martyrology, p. 521.
14. The English Traveller, a tragi-comedy, acted at the Cock-pit in
Drury-lane, 1633, dedicated to Sir Henry Appleton, the plot from
Plautus Mostellaria.
15. A Maidenhead well lost, a comedy acted in Drury-lane, 1634.
16. The Four London Apprentices, with the Conquest of Jerusalem; an
historical play, acted by the Queen's servants 1635. It is founded on
the history of Godfrey of Bulloign. See Tasso, Fuller's history of the
holy war, &c.
17. A Challenge for Beauty; a tragi-comedy, acted by the King's
servants in Black-Fryers, 1636.
18. The Fair Maid of the Exchance; with the Merry Humours of the
Cripple of Fen-church, a comedy, 1637.
19. The Wise Woman of Hogsden; a comedy, acted with applause, 1638.
20. The Rape of Lucrece, a Roman Tragedy, acted at the Red Bull, 1638.
Plot from Titus Livius.
21. Love's Mistress, or the Queen's Mask; presented several times
before their Majesties, 1640. For the plot see Apuleius's Golden Ass.
22. Fortune by Land or Sea, a comedy; acted by the Queen's servants,
1653. Mr. Rowley assisted in the composing of this play.
23. The Lancashire Witches, a comedy; acted at the Globe by the King's
servants. Mr. Brome joined with Mr. Heywood in writing this comedy.
This story is related by the author in his Hierarchy of Angels.
24. Edward IV. an historical play, in two parts. For the story see
Speed, Hollinshed and other chronicles.
This author has published several other works in verse and prose, as
his Hierarchy of Angels, above-mentioned; the Life and Troubles of
Queen Elizabeth; the General History of Women; An Apology for Actors,
&c.
[Footnote 1: See the Life of Savage.]
[Footnote 2: Langbaine, p. 258.]
* * * * *
WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT,
A Gentleman eminent for learning. The place of his birth, and his
father's name, are differently assigned by authors, who have mentioned
him. Mr. Loyd says[1], that he was son of Thomas Cartwright of Burford
in Oxfordshire, and born August 16, in the year 1615; Mr. Wood[2],
that he was the son of William Cartwright, and born at Northway, near
Tewksbury in Gloucestershire in September 1611, that his father had
dissipated a fair inheritance he knew not how, and as his last refuge
turned inn-keeper at Cirencester; when living in competence, he
procured his son, a youth of a promising genius, to be educated under
Mr. William Topp, master of the free school in that town. From thence
he was removed to Westminster school, being chosen a King's scholar,
when compleating his former learning, under the care of Mr. Lambert
Osbaldiston, he was elected a student in Christ Church in Oxford,
in 1628, under the tuition of Mr. Jerumael Terrent[3], having gone
through the classes of logic and philosophy with unwearied diligence,
he took the degrees of Arts, that of Master being compleated in 1605.
Afterwards he entered into holy orders, and gained great reputation,
in the university for his pathetic preaching.
In 1642 he had the place of succentor in the church of Salisbury,
conferred on him by bishop Duppa,[4] and in 1643 was chosen junior
proctor of the university; he was also metaphysical reader, and it was
generally said, that those lectures were never performed better than
by Mr. Cartwright, and his predecessor Mr. Thomas Barlow of Queen's
College, afterwards lord bishop of Lincoln.[5] This ingenious
gentleman died of a malignant fever, called the Camp-disease, which
then reigned in Oxford, and was fatal to many of his contemporaries,
in the 33d year of his age, 1643. His death was very much lamented by
all ranks of men, and the King and Queen, then at Oxford, frequently
enquired after him in the time of his sickness, and expressed great
concern for his death. Mr. Cartwright was as remarkable for the
endowments of his person as of his mind; his body (as Langbaine
expresses it) "being as handsome as his soul. He was, says he, an
expert linguist, understanding not only Greek and Latin, but French
and Italian, as perfectly as his mother tongue; an excellent orator,
and at the same time an admirable poet, a quality which Cicero with
all his pains could never attain." The editor of his works applies
to him the saying of Aristotle concerning Æschron the poet, "that he
could not tell what Æschron could not do," and Dr. Fell, bishop of
Oxford, said of him, "Cartwright was the utmost a man can come to."
Ben Johnson likewise so highly valued him, that he said, "My son
Cartwright writes all like a man." There are extant of this author's,
four plays, besides other poems, all which were printed together in
1651, to which are prefixed above fifty copies of commendatory verses
by the most eminent wits of the university.
Langbaine gives the following account of his plays;
1. Ordinary, a Comedy, when and where acted is uncertain.
2. Lady Errant, a Tragi-Comedy; there is no account when this play was
acted, but it was esteemed a good Comedy.
3, Royal Slave, a Tragi-comedy, presented to the King and Queen, by
the students of Christ Church in Oxford, August 30, 1636; presented
since before both their Majesties at Hampton Court by the King's
servants. As for the noble stile of the play itself, and the ready
address, and graceful carriage of the students (amongst which Dr.
Busby, the famous master of Westminster school; proved himself a
second Roscius) did exceed all things of that nature they had ever
seen. The Queen, in particular, so much admired it, that in November
following, she sent for the habits and scenes to Hampton Court, she
being desirous to see her own servants represent the same play, whose
profession it was, that she might the better judge of the several
performances, and to whom the preference was due: the sentence was
universally given by all the spectators in favour of the gown, though
nothing was wanting on Mr. Cartwright's side to inform the players as
well as the Scholars, in what belonged to the action and delivery of
each part.[6]
4. Siege, or Love's Convert, a Tragi-Comedy, when acted is not known,
but was dedicated by the author to King Charles I. by an epistle in
verse.
Amongst his poems, there are several concerning the dramatic poets,
and their writings, which must not be forgot; as these two copies
which he wrote on Mr. Thomas Killegrew's plays, the Prisoner, and
Claracilla; two copies on Fletcher, and one in memory of Ben Johnson,
which are so excellent, that the publisher of Mr. Cartwright's poems
speaks of them with rapture in the preface, viz. 'what had Ben said
had he read his own Eternity, in that lasting elegy given him by our
author.' Mr. Wood mentions some other works of Cartwright's; 1st.
Poemata Graeca et Latina. 2d. An Offspring of Mercy issuing out of the
Womb of Cruelty; a Passion Sermon preached at Christ Church in Oxford,
on Acts ii. 23. London, 8vo. 1652. 3d. On the Signal Days of the Month
of November, in relation to the Crown and Royal Family; a Poem, London
1671, in a sheet, 4to. 4th. Poems and Verses, containing Airs for
several Voices, set by Mr. Henry Lawes.
From a Comedy of Mr. Cartwright's called the Ordinary, I shall quote
the following Congratulatory Song on a Marriage, which is amorous, and
spirited.
I.
While early light springs from the skies,
A fairer from your bride doth rise;
A brighter day doth thence appear,
And make a second morning there.
Her blush doth shed
All o'er the bed
Clear shame-faced beams
That spread in streams,
And purple round the modest air.
II.
I will not tell what shrieks and cries,
What angry pishes, and what fies,
What pretty oaths, then newly born,
The list'ning bridegroom heard there sworn:
While froward she
Most peevishly
Did yielding fight,
To keep o'er night,
What she'd have proffer'd you e're morn.
III.
For, we know, maids do refute
To grant what they do come to lose.
Intend a conquest, you that wed;
They would be chastly ravished;
Not any kiss
From Mrs. Pris,
'If that you do
Persuade and woo:
No, pleasure's by extorting fed.
IV.
O may her arms wax black and blue
Only by hard encircling you:
May she round about you twine
Like the easy twisting vine;
And while you sip
From her full lip
Pleasures as new
As morning dew,
Like those soft tyes, your hearts combine.
[Footnote 1: Memoirs, p. 422.]
[Footnote 2: Atheniæ Oxon. p. 274.]
[Footnote 3: ibid. vol. ii. col. 34.]
[Footnote 4: Athen. Oxon. col. 35.]
[Footnote 5: Preface to his Poems in 8vo. London, 1651.]
[Footnote 6: Wood.]
* * * * *
GEORGE SANDYS,
A younger son of Edwin, Archbishop of York, was born at Bishops Thorp
in that county, and as a member of St. Mary's Hall, was matriculated
in the university in the beginning of December 1589; how long he
remained at the university Wood is not able to determine. In the year
1610 he began a long journey, and after he had travelled through
several parts of Europe, he visited many cities, especially
Constantinople, and countries under the Turkish empire, as Greece,
Egypt, and the Holy Land[1]. Afterwards he took a view of the remote
parts of Italy, and the Islands adjoining: Then he went to Rome; the
antiquities of that place were shewn him by Nicholas Fitzherbert,
once an Oxford student, and who had the honour of Mr. Sandys's
acquaintance. Thence our author went to Venice, and from that returned
to England, where digesting his notes, he published his travels.
Sandys, who appears to have been a man of excellent parts, of a pious
and generous disposition, did not, like too many travellers, turn his
attention upon the modes of dress, and the fashions of the several
courts which is but a poor acquisition; but he studied the genius, the
tempers, the religion, and the governing principles of the people he
visited, as much as his time amongst them would permit. He returned
in 1612, being improved, says Wood, 'in several respects, by this his
'large journey, being an accomplished gentleman, as being master of
several languages, of affluent and ready discourse, and excellent
comportment.' He had also a poetical fancy, and a zealous inclination
to all literature, which made his company acceptable to the most
virtuous men, and scholars of his time. He also wrote a Paraphrase on
the Psalms of David, and upon the Hymns dispersed throughout the Old
and New Testament, London, 1636, reprinted there in folio 1638, with
other things under this title.
Paraphrase on the Divine Poems, on Job, Psalms of David, Ecclesiastes,
Lamentations of Jeremiah, and Songs collected out of the Old and New
Testament. This Paraphrase on David's Psalms was one of the books that
Charles I. delighted so much to read in: as he did in Herbert's Divine
Poems, Dr. Hammond's Works, and Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, while
he was a prisoner in the Isle of Wight[2].
Paraphrase on the Divine Poems, viz. on the Psalms of David, on
Ecclesiastes, and on the Song of Solomon, London, 1637. Some, if not
all of the Psalms of David, had vocal compositions set to them by
William and Henry Lawes, with a thorough bass, for an Organ, in four
large books or volumes in 4to. Our author also translated into English
Ovid's Metamorphoses, London, 1627. Virgil's first book of Æneis
printed with the former. Mr. Dryden in his preface to some of his
translations of Ovid's Metamorphoses, calls him the best versifier of
the last age.
Christ's Passion, written in Latin by the famous Hugo Grotius, and
translated by our author, to which he also added notes; this subject
had been handled handled before in Greek, by that venerable person,
Apollinarius of Laodicea, bishop of Hierapolis, but this of Grotius,
in Sandys's opinion, transcends all on this argument; this piece was
reprinted with figures in 8vo. London, 1688. Concerning our author
but few incidents are known, he is celebrated by cotemporary and
subsequent wits, as a very considerable poet, and all have agreed to
bestow upon him the character of a pious worthy man. He died in the
year 1643, at the house of his nephew Mr. Wiat at Boxley Abbey in
Kent, in the chancel of which parish church he is buried, though
without a monument, only as Wood says with the following, which stands
in the common register belonging to this church.
Georgius Sandys, Poetarum Anglorum sui sæculi Princeps, sepultus suit
Martii 7° stilo Anglico. Anno Pom. 1643. It would be injurious to the
memory of Sandys, to dismiss his life without informing the reader
that the worthy author stood high in the opinion of that most
accomplished young nobleman the lord viscount Falkland, by whom to
be praised, is the highest compliment that can be paid to merit; his
lordship addresses a copy of verses to Grotius, occasioned by his
Christus Patiens, in which he introduces Mr. Sandys, and says of him,
that he had seen as much as Grotius had read; he bestows upon him like
wife the epithet of a fine gentleman, and observes, that though he had
travelled to foreign countries to read life, and acquire knowledge,
yet he was worthy, like another Livy, of having men of eminence from
every country come to visit him. From the quotation here given, it
will be seen that Sandys was a smooth versifier, and Dryden in his
preface to his translation of Virgil, positively says, that had Mr.
Sandys gone before him in the whole translation, he would by no means
have attempted it after him.
In the translation of his Christus Patiens, in the chorus of Act III.
JESUS speaks.
Daughters of Solyma, no more
My wrongs thus passionately deplore.
These tears for future sorrows keep,
Wives for yourselves, and children weep;
That horrid day will shortly come,
When you shall bless the barren womb,
And breast that never infant fed;
Then shall you with the mountain's head
Would from this trembling basis slide,
And all in tombs of ruin hide.
In his translation of Ovid, the verses on Fame are thus englished.
And now the work is ended which Jove's rage,
Nor fire, nor sword, shall raise, nor eating age.
Come when it will, my death's uncertain hour,
Which only o'er my body bath a power:
Yet shall my better part transcend the sky,
And my immortal name shall never die:
For wheresoe'er the Roman Eagles spread
Their conqu'ring wings, I shall of all be read.
And if we Prophets can presages give,
I in my fame eternally shall live.
[Footnote 1: Athen. Oxon. p. 46. vol. ii.]
[Footnote 2: Wood, ubi supra.]
* * * * *
CARY LUCIUS, Lord Viscount FALKLAND,
The son of Henry, lord viscount Falkland, was born at Burford in
Oxfordshire, about the year 1610[1]. For some years he received
his education in Ireland, where his father carried him when he was
appointed Lord Deputy of that kingdom in 1622; he had his academical
learning in Trinity College in Dublin, and in St. John's College,
Cambridge. Clarendon relates, "that before he came to be twenty years
of age, he was master of a noble fortune, which descended to him by
the gift of a grandfather, without passing through his father or
mother, who were both alive; shortly after that, and before he was of
age, being in his inclination a great lover of the military life, he
went into the low countries in order to procure a command, and to give
himself up to it, but was diverted from it by the compleat inactivity
of that summer." He returned to England, and applied himself to a
severe course of study; first to polite literature and poetry, in
which he made several successful attempts. In a very short time he
became perfectly master of the Greek tongue; accurately read all the
Greek historians, and before he was twenty three years of age, he had
perused all the Greek and Latin Fathers.
About the time of his father's death, in 1633, he was made one of the
Gentlemen of his Majesty's Privy Chamber, notwithstanding which he
frequently retired to Oxford, to enjoy the conversation of learned and
ingenious men. In 1639 he was engaged in an expedition against the
Scots, and though he received some disappointment in a command of a
troop of horse, of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer with
the earl of Essex[2].
In 1640 he was chosen a Member of the House of Commons, for Newport in
the Isle of Wight, in the Parliament which began at Westminster the
13th of April in the same year, and from the debates, says Clarendon,
which were managed with all imaginable gravity and sobriety, 'he
contracted such a reverence for Parliaments, that he thought
it absolutely impossible they ever could produce mischief or
inconvenience to the nation, or that the kingdom could be tolerably
happy in the intermission of them, and from the unhappy, and
unseasonable dissolution of the Parliament he harboured some prejudice
to the court.'
In 1641, John, lord Finch, Keeper of the Great Seal, was impeached by
lord Falkland, in the name of the House of Commons, and his lordship,
says Clarendon, 'managed that prosecution with great vigour and
sharpness, as also against the earl of Strafford, contrary to his
natural gentleness of temper, but in both these cases he was misled by
the authority of those whom he believed understood the laws perfectly,
of which he himself was utterly ignorant[3].'
He had contracted an aversion towards Archbishop Laud, and some other
bishops, which inclined him to concur in the first bill to take away
the votes of the bishops in the House of Lords. The reason of his
prejudice against Laud was, the extraordinary passion and impatience
of contradiction discoverable in that proud prelate; who could not
command his temper, even at the Council Table when his Majesty was
present, but seemed to lord it over all the rest, not by the force of
argument, but an assumed superiority to which he had no right. This
nettled lord Falkland, and made him exert his spirit to humble and
oppose the supercilious churchman. This conduct of his lordship's,
gave Mr. Hampden occasion to court him to his party, who was justly
placed by the brilliance of his powers, at the head of the opposition;
but after a longer study of the laws of the realm, and conversation
with the celebrated Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, he changed his
opinion, and espoused an interest quite opposite to Hampden's.
After much importunity, he at last accepted the Seals of his Majesty,
and served in that employment with unshaken integrity, being above
corruption of any kind.
When he was vested with that high dignity, two parts of his conduct
were very remarkable; he could never persuade himself that it was
lawful to employ spies, or give any countenance or entertainment to
such persons, who by a communication of guilt, or dissimulation of
manners, wind themselves into such trusts and secrets, as enable them
to make discoveries; neither could he ever suffer himself to open
letters, upon a suspicion that they might contain matters of dangerous
consequence, and proper for statesmen to know. As to the first he
condemned them as void of all honour, and who ought justly to be
abandoned to infamy, and that no single preservation could be worth so
general a wound and corruption of society, as encouraging such people
would carry with it. The last, he thought such a violation of the law
of nature, that no qualification by office could justify him in the
trespass, and tho' the necessity of the times made it clear, that
those advantages were not to be declined, and were necessary to be
practised, yet he found means to put it off from himself[4].
June 15, 1642, he was one of the lords who signed the declaration,
wherein they professed they were fully satisfied his Majesty had
no intention to raise war upon his Parliament. At the same time he
subscribed to levy twenty horse for his Majesty's service, upon which
he was excepted from the Parliament's favour, in the instructions
given by the two Houses to their general the Earl of Essex. He
attended the King to Edgehill fight, where after the enemy was routed
he was exposed to imminent danger, by endeavouring to save those who
had thrown away their arms. He was also with his Majesty at Oxford,
and during his residence there, the King went one day to see the
public library, where he was shewed, among other books, a Virgil nobly
printed, and exquisitely bound. The Lord Falkland, to divert the King,
would have him make a trial of his fortune by the Sortes Virgilianæ,
an usual kind of divination in ages past, made by opening a Virgil.
Whereupon the King opening the book, the period which happened to come
up, was that part of Dido's imprecation against Æneas, Æneid. lib.
4. v. 615, part of which is thus translated by Mr. Dryden,
Oppess'd with numbers in th' unequal field.
His men discouraged and himself expell'd,
Let him for succour sue from place to place,
Torn from his subjects, and his sons embrace.
His Majesty seemed much concerned at this accident. Lord Falkland who
observed it, would likewise try his own fortune in the same manner,
hoping he might fall upon some passage that had no relation to his
case, and thereby divert the king's thoughts from any impression the
other might make upon him; but the place Lord Falkland opened was more
suited to his destiny than the other had been to the King's, being the
following expressions of Evander, on the untimely death of his son
Pallas. Æneid. b. ii. verse 152, &c.
Non hæc, O Palla, dederas promissa Parenti, &c.
Thus translated by Mr. Dryden:
O Pallas! thou hast failed thy plighted word,
To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword;
I warn'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew,
What perils youthful ardour would pursue:
That boiling blood would carry thee too far;
Young as thou wert to dangers, raw to war!
O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom
Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come[5].
Upon the beginning of the civil war, his natural chearfulness and
vivacity was clouded, and a kind of sadness and dejection of spirit
stole upon him. After the resolution of the two houses not to admit
any treaty of peace, those indispositions which had before touched
him, grew into a habit of gloominess; and he who had been easy and
affable to all men, became on a sudden less communicable, sad, and
extremely affected with the spleen. In his dress, to which he had
formerly paid an attention, beyond what might have been expected from
a man of so great abilities, and so much business, he became negligent
and slovenly, and in his reception of suitors, so quick, sharp, and
severe, that he was looked upon as proud and imperious.
When there was any hope of peace, his former spirit used to return and
he appeared gay, and vigorous, and exceeding sollicitous to press any
thing that might promote it; and Clarendon observes, "That after a
deep silence, when he was sitting amongst his friends, he would with a
shrill voice, and sad accent, repeat the words Peace! Peace! and would
passionately say, that the agony of the war, the ruin and bloodshed in
which he saw the nation involved, took his sleep from him, and would
soon break his heart."
This extream uneasiness seems to have hurried him on to his
destruction; for the morning before the battle of Newbery, he called
for a clean shirt, and being asked the reason of it, answered, "That
if he were slain in the battle, they should not find his body in foul
linen." Being persuaded by his friends not to go into the fight, as
being no military officer, "He said he was weary of the times, foresaw
much misery to his country, and did believe he should be out of it
e're night." Putting himself therefore into the first rank of the Lord
Byron's regiment, he was shot with a musket in the lower part of his
belly, on the 20th of September 1643, and in the instant falling from
his horse, his body was not found till next morning.
Thus died in the bed of honour, the incomparable Lord Falkland, on
whom all his contemporaries bestowed the most lavish encomiums, and
very deservedly raised altars of praise to his memory. Among all his
panegyrists, Clarendon is the foremost, and of highest authority; and
in his words therefore, I shall give his character to the reader. "In
this unhappy battle, (says he) was slain the Lord viscount Falkland,
a person of such prodigious parts, of learning and knowledge, of that
inimitable sweetness and delight in conversation, and so flowing and
obliging a humanity and goodness to mankind, and of that primitive
simplicity and integrity of life, that if there were no other brand
upon this odious and accursed civil war, than that single loss, it
must be most infamous and execrable to all posterity. He was a great
cherisher of wit and fancy, and good parts in any man; and if he found
them clouded with poverty and want, a most liberal and bountiful
patron towards them, even above his fortune." His lordship then
enumerates the unshaken loyalty and great abilities of this young
hero, in the warmth of a friend; he shews him in the most engaging
light, and of all characters which in the course of this work we met
with, except Sir Philip Sidney's, lord Falkland's seems to be the most
amiable, and his virtues are confessed by his enemies of the opposite
faction. The noble historian, in his usual masterly manner, thus
concludes his panegyric on his deceased friend. "He fell in the 34th
year of his age, having so much dispatched the true business of life,
that the eldest rarely attain to that immense knowledge, and the
youngest enter into the world with more innocency: whosoever leads
such a life, needs be less anxious upon how short warning it is
taken from him."----As to his person, he was little, and of no great
strength; his hair was blackish, and somewhat flaggy, and his eyes
black and lively. His body was buried in the church of Great Tew. His
works are chiefly these:
First Poems.----Next, besides those Speeches of his mentioned above,
1. A Speech concerning Uniformity, which we are informed of by Wood.
2. A Speech of ill Counsellors about the King, 1640 [6].
A Draught of a Speech concerning Episcopacy, London, 1660, 410.
4. A Discourse of the Infallibility of the Church of Rome. Oxford
1645, 410. George Holland, a Cambridge scholar, and afterwards a
Romish priest, having written an answer to this discourse of the
Infallibility, the Lord Falkland made a reply to it, entitled,
5. A View of some Exceptions made against the Discourse of the
Infallibility of the Church of Rome, printed at Oxford, 1646, 410.
He assisted Mr. Chillingworth in his book of the Religion of the
Protestants, &c. This particular we learn from Bishop Barlow in his
Genuine Remains, who says, that when Mr. Chillingworth undertook
the defence of Dr. Pottus's book against the Jesuit, he was almost
continually at Tew with my Lord, examining the reasons of both
parties pro and con; and their invalidity and consequence; where Mr.
Chillingworth had the benefit of my Lord's company, and of his good
library.
We shall present our readers with a specimen of his lordship's poetry,
in a copy of verses addressed to Grotius on his Christus Patiens, a
tragedy, translated by Mr. Sandys. To the AUTHOR.
Our age's wonder, by thy birth, the fame,
Of Belgia, by thy banishment, the shame;
Who to more knowledge younger didst arrive
Than forward Glaucias, yet art still alive,
Whose matters oft (for suddenly you grew,
To equal and pass those, and need no new)
To see how soon, how far thy wit could reach,
Sat down to wonder, when they came to teach.
Oft then would Scaliger contented be
To leave to mend all times, to polish thee.
And of that pains, effect did higher boast,
Than had he gain'd all that his fathers lost.
When thy Capella read----------------------
That King of critics stood amaz'd to see
A work so like his own set forth by thee.
[Footnote 1: Wood's Athen. Oxon. vol. i. col. 586.]
[Footnote 2: Clarendon's History, &c.]
[Footnote 3: Ibid.]
[Footnote 4: Clarendon, ubi supra.]
[Footnote 5: Memoirs, &c. by Welwood, edit 1718. 12mo. p. 90--92.]
[Footnote 6: Historical Collections, p. 11. vol. 2. p. 1342.]
* * * * *
Sir JOHN SUCKLING
Lived in the reign of King Charles I. and was son of Sir John
Suckling, comptroller of the houshold to that monarch. He was born
at Witham, in the county of Middlesex, 1613, with a remarkable
circumstance of his mother's going eleven months with him, which
naturalists look upon as portending a hardy and vigorous constitution.
A strange circumstance is related of him, in his early years, in a
life prefixed to his works. He spoke Latin, says the author, at five
years old, and wrote it at nine; if either of these circumstances is
true, it would seem as if he had learned Latin from his nurse, nor
ever heard any other language, so that it was native to him; but to
speak Latin at five, in consequence of study, is almost impossible.
The polite arts, which our author chiefly admired, were music and
poetry; how far he excelled in the former, cannot be known, nor can
we agree with his life-writer already mentioned, that he excelled in
both. Sir John Suckling seems to have been no poet, nor to have had
even the most distant appearances of it; his lines are generally so
unmusical, that none can read them without grating their ears; being
author of several plays, he may indeed be called a dramatist, and
consequently comes within our design; but as he is destitute of
poetical conceptions, as well as the power of numbers, he has no
pretensions to rank among the good poets.
Dryden somewhere calls him a sprightly wit, a courtly writer. In
this sense he is what Mr. Dryden stiles him; but then he is no poet,
notwithstanding. His letters, which are published along with his
plays, are exceeding courtly, his stile easy and genteel, and his
thoughts natural; and in reading his letters, one would wonder that
the same man, who could write so elegantly in prose, should not better
succeed in verse.
After Suckling had made himself acquainted with the constitution of
his own country, and taken a survey of the most remarkable things at
home, he travelled to digest and enlarge his notions, from a view of
other countries, where, says the above-mentioned author, he made a
collection of their virtues, without any tincture of their vices and
follies, only that some were of opinion he copied the French air too
much, which being disagreeable to his father, who was remarkable for
his gravity, and, indeed, inconsistent with, the gloominess of the
times, he was reproached for it, and it was imputed to him as the
effects of his travels; but some were of opinion, that it was more
natural than acquired, the easiness of his manner and address being
suitable to the openness of his heart, the gaiety, wit and gallantry,
which were so conspicuous in him; and he seems to have valued himself
upon nothing more than the character of the Courtier and the Fine
Gentleman, which he so far attained, that he is allowed to have had
the peculiar happiness, of making every thing he did become him.
While Suckling was thus assiduous about acquiring the reputation of
a finished courtier, and a man of fashion, it is no wonder that he
neglected the higher excellencies of genius, for a poet and a beau,
never yet were united in one person.
Sir John was not however, so much devoted to the luxury of the court,
as to be wholly a stranger to the field. In his travels he made a
campaign under the great Gustavus Adolphus, where he was present
at three battles and five sieges, besides other skirmishes between
Parties; and from such a considerable scene of action, gained as much
experience in six months, as otherwise he would have done in as many
years.
After his return to England, the Civil War being then raging, he
raised a troop of horse for the King's service, entirely at his own
charge, so richly and compleatly mounted, that it stood him in 1200
l. but his zeal for his Majesty did not meet with the success it
deserved, which very much affected him; and soon after this he was
seized with a fever, and died in the 28th year of his age. In which
short space he had done enough to procure him the esteem of the
politest men who conversed with him; but as he had set out in the
world with all the advantages of birth, person, education, and
fortune, peoples expectations of him were raised to too great a
heighth, which seldom fails to issue in a disappointment. He makes no
figure in the history of these times, perhaps from the immaturity of
his death, which prevented him from action. This might be one reason
for his being neglected in the annals of the civil war: another might
be, his unnecessary, or rather ridiculous shew of finery, which he
affected in decorating his troop of horse. This could not fail to draw
down contempt upon him, for in time of public distress, nothing can be
more foolish than to wear the livery of prosperity; and surely an army
would have no great reason to put much confidence in the conduct or
courage of that general; who in the morning of a Battle should
be found in his tent perfuming his hair, or arraying himself in
embroidery.