THE LIVES OF THE POETS OF GREAT BRITAIN and IRELAND, To the TIME of DEAN SWIFT. Compiled from ample Materials ſcattered in a Va⯑riety 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.
LONDON: Printed for R. GRIFFITHS, at the Dunciad in St. Paul's Church-Yard. MDCCLIII.
IT has been obſerved that men of emi⯑nence in all ages, and diſtinguiſhed for the ſame excellence, have gene⯑rally had ſomething in their lives ſi⯑milar 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 re⯑ligious 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 [2] 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 preten⯑ſions, 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,* ſeems very improbable; for this Richard was a vintner, living at the corner of Kirton-lane, and at his death left his houſe, ta⯑vern, and ſtock to the church of St. Mary Alder⯑mary, 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 aſ⯑ſerts, that his father was a knight; but tho' there is no authority to ſupport this aſſertion, yet it is rea⯑ſonable [3] 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 ſup⯑poſition is ſtrengthened by Chaucer's firſt applica⯑tion, after leaving the univerſity and inns of law, be⯑ing 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 univer⯑ſity, he became (ſays Leland) ‘"a ready logician, a ſmooth rhetorician, a pleaſant poet, a great phi⯑loſopher, 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 pre⯑vailed much at that time,) appears by his Tale of the Chanons Yeoman: His knowledge in divi⯑nity 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, Hol⯑land, and other countries, where he ſpent ſome of his younger days. Upon his return he entered him⯑ſelf in the Inner Temple, where he ſtudied the mu⯑nicipal laws of the land. But he had not long pro⯑ſecuted that dry ſtudy, till his ſuperior abilities were taken notice of by ſome perſons of diſtinction, by [4] whoſe patronage he then approached the ſplendor of the court. The reign of Edward III. was glo⯑rious and ſucceſsful, he was a diſcerning as well as a fortunate Monarch; he had a taſte as well for eru⯑dition 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 gall [...]ry and a round of pleaſure prevailed, and how well qualifed ou [...] poet was to ſhine in the ſoft circles, whoever has read his works, will be at no loſs to de⯑termine; but beſides the advantages of his wit and learning, he poſſeſſed thoſe of perſon in a very con⯑ſiderable 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 be⯑ing qualified by his genteel behaviour to entertain both, he became a finiſhed courtier. The firſt dig⯑nity 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 lega⯑cies to his pages, when few others of his ſervants are taken notice of. In the forty-firſt year of Ed⯑ward 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 inconſider⯑able p [...]nſion; 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 friend⯑ſhips, and procured the eſteem of perſons of the firſt quality. Queen Philippa, the Duke of Lancaſter, and his Ducheſs Blanch, ſhewed particular honour [5] 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 Ro⯑maunt, 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 recom⯑mendation 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 de⯑manded the aſſiſtance of learned men, engaged warmly in our poet's intereſt; beſides, the duke was remarkably fond of Lady Catherine Swynford, his wiſe's ſiſter, who was then guardianeſs to his chil⯑dren, 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 fi [...]d him ri [...]e or fall. Much about this time, for his ſucceſsful negociations at Genoa, the king grant⯑ed to him by letters patent, by the title of Armiger Noſter, one pitcher of vine [...]aily in the port of London, and ſoon after mad [...] 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.
[6] 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 cer⯑tainly one of the proudeſt and moſt ambitious men of his time, nor could he patiently bear the name of a [...] even to his father; nothing but ab⯑ſolute 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 [...]own, and ſeemed to ſtretch out an impatient [...] to [...] it. In this view he ſought, by all [...] poſſible, to ſecure his intereſt againſt the [...] of the old king; and being afraid of the oppoſition of the clergy, who are always ſtrenu⯑ [...] 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 faſhi⯑onable 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 a⯑mongſt 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 in⯑trigues of the court party, and ſo recommended himſelf to the Prince ſucceſſor, that upon his aſ⯑conding the throne, he confirmed to him by the ti⯑tle of Dilect [...]s Armiger Noſter, the g [...]ant 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 circum⯑ſ [...]ance [...], but by what means is unknown) that the [7] 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 Cant [...]rbury to ſummon Wickliff to appear before him, whoſe intereſt after this arraignment very much decayed.* The king who was devoted to his pleaſures, reſigned himſelf, to ſome young courtiers who hated the duke of Lan⯑caſter, and cauſed a fryar to accuſe him of an at⯑tempt to kill the king; but before he had an op⯑portunity 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 Huntington, 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 main⯑tain his po [...]s 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 up⯑on [8] beheading one of the rioters, and Northampton's being taken into cuſtody, the comm [...]tion 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 accom⯑plices in this affair were with him, whom he ſup⯑p [...]rted in their exile, while the chief ringleaders, (except Northampton who was condemned at Rea⯑ding 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 mo⯑ney 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 [...] purſuing their reſentment againſt him and his friends, they were obliged to leave Zealand, and Chaucer being unable to bear longer the cala⯑mities of poverty and exile, and finding no ſecu⯑rity wherever he fled, choſe rather to throw him⯑ſelf upon the laws of his country, than periſh a⯑broad 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 accom⯑plices, and ſometimes threatened him with im⯑mediate deſtruction; their threats and promiſes he along while diſregarded, but recollecting the ingratitude of his old friends, and the miſeries [9] he had already ſuffered, he at laſt made a con⯑feſſion, 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 ſickleneſs of fortune, and then wrote his Teſta⯑ment of Love, in which are many pathetic excla⯑mations 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 reſolu⯑tion 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 govern⯑ment, he ſtill retained his loyalty, and ſtrictly en⯑joined 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 a⯑gain his miſtreſs to his boſom, and not content with [10] 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 return⯑ed, 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 cir⯑cumſtances 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 pub⯑lickly 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 domeſ⯑tical affairs, at leaſt as far as we are enabled, by ma⯑terials 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, chan⯑cellor 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 em⯑baſſies 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 [11] 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, Hanner⯑borough 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 Ca⯑therine 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 A⯑lice, who was thrice married, firſt to Sir John Phi⯑lips, and afterwards to Thomas Montacute earl of Salisbury: her third husband was the famous Wil⯑liam de la Pole, duke of Suffolk, who loſt his head by the fury of the Yorkiſts, who dreaded his in⯑fluence in the oppoſite party, tho' he ſtood pro⯑ſcribed by the parliament of Henry VI. for miſ⯑guiding 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 conſidera⯑ble 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 [12] where he had acted ſo conſiderable a part with varied ſucceſs, and retired to Dunnigton caſtle* near Newbury, to reflect at leiſure upon paſt tran⯑ſactions in the ſtill retreats of contemplation. In this retirement did he ſpend his few remaining years, univerſally loved and honoured; he was fa⯑miliar with all men of learning in his time, and con⯑tracted friendſhip with perſons of the greateſt emi⯑nence 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 re⯑finer 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 grantsin 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 atten⯑dance ſo overcame him, that death prevented his en⯑joying his new poſſeſſions. He died the 25th of Octo⯑ber 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 reſignati [...]n with which he had undergone a variety of preſſures, and viciſſi⯑tudes of fortune.
Dryden ſays, he was poet laureat to three kings, but Urry is of opinion that Dryden muſt be miſtak⯑en, 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.
[13] 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 know⯑ledge, 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 capa⯑cities, and pitied rather than expoſed the igno⯑rance of that age. In one word, he was a great ſcholar, a pleaſant wit, a candid critic, a ſocia⯑ble companion, a ſtedfaſt friend, a great philo⯑ſopher, 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 cotempo⯑raries, 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 col⯑lected from them, and ſubjoin a ſpecimen of his poetry, of which profeſſion as he may juſtly be call⯑ed the Morning Star, ſo as we deſcend into later times, we may ſee the progreſs of poetry in Eng⯑land 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 Cam⯑bridge.
[14] 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 Philoſophiae 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 fa⯑mous 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 Canter⯑bury [15] 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 Dame, was written for the uſe of the ducheſs Blaunch.
The book of the Lion is mentioned in his Re⯑traction, 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 Aſſem⯑bly 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.
[16] The Teſtament of Love was written in his trou⯑ble the latter part of his life.
The Song beginning Fly ſro the Preſe, &c. was written in his death-bed.
Leland ſays, that by the conſent of the learned in his time, the Plowman's Tale was attributed to Chaucer, but was ſuppreſſed in the edition then ex⯑tant, 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 concer [...]ing the works of Chau⯑cer. In the year 1526 the biſhop of London pro⯑hibited 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.
Thoſe who would prefer the thoughts of this fa⯑ther of Engliſh poetry, in a modern dreſs, are re⯑ferred to the elegant verſions of him, by Dryden, Pope, and others, who have done ample juſtice to their illuſtrious predeceſſor.
IT has been diſputed amongſt the critics whether this p [...]et preceded or followed Chaucer. Mrs. Cooper, [...]thor 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' Dry⯑den 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 judg⯑ment, I think there is ſome alteration even in Skel⯑ton 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 Win⯑ſtanly, 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 po⯑etical enthuſiaſm in their compoſitions. One can⯑not read the works of this author, or Chaucer, with⯑out lamenting the unhappineſs of a fluctuating lan⯑guage, that buries in its ruins even genius itſelf; for like edifices of ſand, every breath of time de⯑faces 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 pun⯑gent [19] ſatire; and digniſied 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 reſormation of the Ro⯑man clergy. The piece before us is entitled the Viſion oſ 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. l. 475.
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 Sitten⯑ham 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 hederated, but only roſated, having a chaplet of four roſes about his head in his monumental ſtone [21] 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 behavi⯑our when the revolution under Henry IV hap⯑pened in England. He was under the higheſt obli⯑gations to Richard II; he had been preferred, patronized and honoured by him, yet no ſooner did that unhappy prince (who owed his misfor⯑tunes in a great meaſure to his generoſity and eaſi⯑neſs of nature) fall a ſacrifice to the policy of Hen⯑ry 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 ungrate⯑fal monſter inſulted the memory of his murdered ſovereign and generous patron. He ſurvived Chau⯑cer 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 happen⯑ed 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 leſt 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 a⯑bout 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, [22] in Engliſh; this laſt piece was printed by one Tho⯑mas Berthalette, and by him dedicated to King Henry VIII. Hi [...] 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,
The ſecond writing MERCY, with this device;
The third writing PITY, with this decree;
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.
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.
Beſides the works already mentioned our poet wrote the following:
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 ſome time ſpent in our Engliſh univerſities, he travelled thro' France and Italy, improving his time [24] 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 ma⯑thematician, a [...] acute philoſopher, and no mean divine. His verſes were ſo very ſmooth, and in⯑deed to a modern ear they appear ſo, that it was ſaid of him by his cotemporaries, that his wit was framed and faſhioned by the Muſes themſelves. Af⯑ter his return from France and Italy, he became tu⯑tor to many noblemen's ſons, and ſor 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.
[25] 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 Lyd⯑gate into Engliſh verſe, Pitſeus ſays he writ, partly in proſe and partly in verſe, many exquiſite learn⯑ed 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,
Which is thus rendered into Engliſh by Win⯑ſtanly;
JOHN HARDING, the famous Engliſh Chro⯑nologer, was born (ſays Bale) in the Northern parts, and probably Yorkſhire, being an Eſquire of an eminent parentage. He was a man ad⯑dicted both to arms and arts, in the former of [26] which he ſeems to have been the greateſt profi⯑cient: His firſt military exploit was under Robert Um [...]reuil, 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 in⯑tereſt both in proſperity and diſtreſs he honourably adhered. But what endeared him moſt to the fa⯑vour of that Prince, and was indeed the maſter⯑piece of his ſervice, was his adventuring into Scot⯑land, 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 pre⯑ſented to the King. This ſucceſsful atchievement eſtabliſhed him in his Prince's affections, as he was ſollicitous 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 Eng⯑land 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 ſ [...]ems to me to be totally deſtitu [...]e of poetry, both from the wretch⯑edneſs 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 [27] aged. From Gower to Barclay it muſt be obſer⯑ved, that Kings and Princes were conſtantly the patrons of poets.
WAS born of an ancient family in Cumber⯑land, 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 with⯑out invention, and his ſatire is ſtrongly pointed. He lived near fourſcore years after Chaucer, but [28] ſeems to have made but little improvement in ver⯑ſification. He wrote ſome bitter ſatires againſt the clergy, and particularly, his keen reflections on Cardinal Wolſey drew on him ſuch ſevere proſecu⯑tions, 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 per⯑formances 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 pro⯑fuſion 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 ab⯑ſurdity; 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 deſcrib⯑ed, 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 in⯑imitable Spencer. How or by whoſe intereſt he was made Laureat, or whether it was a title he aſ⯑ſumed 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 ma⯑ny others united their ſervices in his favour. When on his death-bed he was charged with [29] having children by a miſtreſs he kept, he pro⯑teſted 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.
His other works, as many as could be collected are chiefly theſe:
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 enti⯑tied 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 advan⯑tage of all his predeceſſors, as is particularly re⯑markable 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 [31] 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.
He was author of the following pieces.
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 [32] 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.
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 geni⯑uſſes 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 chil⯑dren ſhe was to have, of whom the face of one [33] 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 wa [...] 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 know⯑ledge of his grammar rules, he was placed by his fa⯑ther's intereſt under the great Cardinal Merton, arch⯑biſhop 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 ſuperin⯑tend his education, placed him in Canterbury College in Oxford, where by his aſſiduous application to books, his extraordinary temperance and vivacity of wit, [34] he acquired the firſt character among the ſtudents, and then gave proo [...]s of a genius that would one day make a great blaze in the world. When he was but eighteen years old ſuch was the ſorce of his under⯑ſtanding, he wrote many epigrams which were high⯑ly eſteemed by men of eminence, as well abroad as at home. Beatus Rhenanus in his epiſtle to Bili⯑balus Pitchemerus, paſſes great encomiums upon them, as alſo Leodgarius à Quercu, public reader of humanity at Paris. One Brixius a German, who env [...]ed the reputation of this young epigra⯑matiſt, wrote a book againſt theſe epigrams, un⯑der the title of Antimorus, which had no other ef⯑fect than drawing Eraſmus into the field, who cele⯑brated and honoured More; whoſe high patronage was the greateſt compliment the moſt ambitious writer could expect, ſo that the friendſhip of Eraſmus was cheapl [...] purchaſed by the malevolence of a thouſand ſuch critics as Brixius. About the ſame time of life he tranſlated for his exerciſe one of Lu⯑cian's orations out of Greek into Latin, which he calls his [...]rſt 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 elo⯑quence: Wh [...]n he was about twenty years old, finding his appetites and paſſions very predomi⯑nant, he ſtruggled with all the heroiſm of a chri⯑ſtian againſt their influence, and inflicted ſevere whippings and auſtere mortifications upon himſelf every friday and on high faſting days, leſt his ſen⯑ſuality ſhould 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 [35] lay-man, John Picus Earl of Mirandula, who was a man famous for chaſtity, virtue, and learn⯑ing. 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, norever eat but of one diſh, which was moſt commonly powdered beef, or ſome ſuch ſalt meat. In his youth he abſtained wholly from wine; and as he was temperate in his diet, ſo was he heedleſs and negligent in his appa⯑rel. 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 chaſti [...]y in wedlock than in a ſingle life,) but to take care of his children and houſhold af⯑fairs. 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 poſ⯑ſeſſed no very agreeable temper. Much about this time he became obnoxious to Henry VII. for op⯑poſing 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 [36] 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 diſap⯑pointed 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 de⯑generated 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 re⯑putation. Soon after it was publiſhed, it was tranſ⯑lated both into French and Italian, Dutch and Eng⯑liſh. 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 ima⯑ginary [...]ſland, (pretended to be lately diſcovered in America) and that ſo well counterfeited, that ma⯑ny 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 f [...]rvent zeal, wiſhed that ſome excellent divines might be ſent hither to preach Chriſt's Goſpel.
[37] 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 diſchar⯑ged 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 diſcern⯑ing monarch, that he could no longer forbear call⯑ing 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 fa⯑vour 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 Pri⯑vy 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 tranſac⯑tions 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 com⯑ing, 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 Mem⯑bers opinion concerning it; they were all ſo con⯑founded as not to be able to anſwer, and the Houſe [38] at laſt reſolved that their Speaker ſhould reply for them. Upon this Sir Thomas ſhewed that the cardinal's coming into the Houſe was unprecedent⯑ed, 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 con⯑fined to England only; all the ſcholars and ſtates⯑men 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 jour⯑ney 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 ano⯑ther by converſation. They met accordingly, and remained ſome hours undiſcovered; at laſt an argu⯑ment was ſtarted in which both engaged with great keenneſs, Eraſmus deſignedly defended the unpo⯑pular 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 Diabo⯑lus, as at that time Eraſmus was ſtriving to defend very impious propoſitions, in order to put his an⯑tagoniſt'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 New⯑gate. There was then upon the bench a vene⯑rable 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 [39] the felon was arraigned, he told the court, that if he were permitted to ſpeak to one of the judges in pri⯑vate, he could clear his innocence to them; they in⯑dulged 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 de⯑ſired the felon to return his purſe, and adviſed the old man never to be ſo bitter againſt innocent mens 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 daugh⯑ter 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 ob⯑ſerves, that he hath ſeen an apology of Sir Tho⯑mas More's to the univerſity of Oxford, in defence of learning, turned into Latin by one of his daugh⯑ters, 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 Quin⯑tilian, [40] 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 af⯑fairs and domeſtic concerns, yet he found leiſure to write many books, either againſt Heretics, or of a de⯑votional 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 ſup⯑ported 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 appli⯑cation 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 ſhe was very fond; but at laſt the beggar getting no⯑tice where the dog was, ſhe came to complain to [41] 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 com⯑poſing 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 la⯑bour 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 nei⯑ther 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 mar⯑red 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 par⯑ties 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 [42] granted were laid down; an anſwer was ſoon pub⯑liſhed, with which Sir Thomas More was charged as the author, of which report however he ſuffi⯑ciently cleared himſelf in a letter to Mr. Crom⯑wel, 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 Weſtmin⯑ſter, appointed commiſſioners by the King to ten⯑der this oath. More abſolutely refuſed to take it, from a principle of conſcience: and after vari⯑ous expoſtulations he was ordered into the cuſto⯑dy 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 conver⯑ſation with any perſons but thoſe ſent by the ſecre⯑tary. The Lord Chancellor, duke of Norfolk, and Mr. Cromwel paid him frequent viſits, and preſſed him to take the oath, which he ſtill refuſed. A⯑bout a year after his commitment to the tower, by the importunity of Queen Ann, he was arrign'd at the King's Bench Bar, for obſtinately refuſing the oath of ſupremacy, and wilfully and obſti⯑nately 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 Ri⯑chard Leiſter, Sir John Port, Sir John Spelman, Sir Walter Luke, Sir Anthony Fitzherbert: The King's attorney opened againſt him with a very op⯑probious [43] libel; the chief evidence were Mr. ſecreta⯑ry Cromwell, to whom he had uttered ſome diſre⯑pectful 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 ar⯑gument; 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; be⯑ſides that, Rich added to perjury, the baſeneſs of betraying private converſation. But notwithſtand⯑ing 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 Chan⯑cellor, 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 miſre⯑preſented 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 con⯑finement, 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 un⯑der 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 [44] 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 ſtag⯑gered a little, but calling to mind his former vows, his c [...]nſcience, his honour, he recovered himſelf again, and ſtood firmly prepared for his ſall. 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.
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 wit⯑neſs 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 [45] 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 cotemporaries; of integrity unſhaken; of a generous and noble diſpoſition; of a courage in⯑trepid; 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 men⯑tioned are chiefly theſe,
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 no⯑bility grew jealous of his influence, and by their united efforts produced his ruin. After many ex⯑cellent 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 rout⯑ed and their Sovereign ſlain, the earl of Surry re⯑markably diſtinguiſhed himſelf; he commanded un⯑der 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 acknow⯑ledged 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; ſhe firſt inſpired him [48] with poetry, and that poetry has conferred immor⯑tality on her: So tranſported was he with his paſ⯑ſion, that he made a tour to the moſt elegant courts in Europe, to maintain her peerleſs beauty a⯑gainſt 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 follow⯑ing paſſionate ſonnet, which for the ſmoothneſs of the verſe, the tenderneſs of expreſſion, and the heart⯑felt ſentiments might do honour to the politeſt, eaſi⯑eſt, moſt paſſionate poet in our own times.
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 Win⯑ſtanly ſays he eclipſed the ſun and moon with com⯑pariſons of his Geraldine, and wrote another ſon⯑net in praiſe of the chamber that was honoured (as he ſays) with her radiant conception; this ſon⯑net is equally amorous and ſpirited with that al⯑ready inſerted. In the duke of Florence's court he publiſhed a proud challenge againſt all comers, whether Chriſtians, Turks, Canibals, Jews, or Sa⯑racens, 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 en⯑quired 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 ene⯑mies and outlaws, as friends and allies, free acceſs into his dominions unmoleſted till the trial were ended.
[49] 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 Bou⯑logne 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 lieute⯑nant, and captain-general of all his army within the town and county of Boulogne‡. 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 conſidera⯑ble number of French under the de Bieg, making an obſtinate defence, the Engliſh were routed, Sir Edward Poynings with divers other gentlemen kil⯑led, and the Earl himſelf obliged to fly, tho' it ap⯑pears, 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 Hert⯑ford, 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 [50] as the enemy had caſt much larger cannon than had been yet ſeen, with which they imagined they ſhould ſoon demoliſh Boulogne, it deſerved conſi⯑deration whether the lower town ſhould ſtand, as not being defenſible; the council ordered him to return to England in order to repreſent his ſenti⯑ments 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 ſavoured 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 Nor⯑folk, who diſcovered the growing power of the Seymours, and the influence they were likely to bear in the next reign, was for making an alli⯑ance with them; he therefore preſ [...]ed 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 re⯑turn 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.'’ [51] Our noble author added to learning, wiſdom, forti⯑tude, munificence, and affability. Yet all theſe ex⯑cellencies 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 at⯑tempting 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 per⯑formed 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 Ox⯑ford, 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 he⯑ralds, as he proved that a power of doing ſo was granted by ſome preceeding Monarchs to his fore⯑ſathers. 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 appre⯑henſion. The fifteenth day of January next follow⯑ing he was arraigned at Guildhall, where he was found guilty by twelve common jurymen, and re⯑ceived 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 [52] 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, Thomae ſecundi Ducis Nor⯑folciae filio primogenito. Thomae tertii Patri, Co⯑miti Surriae, & Georgiani Ordinis Equiti Aurato, immature Anno Salutis 1546 abrepto. Et Franciſcae Uxoris ejus, filiae Johannis Comitis Oxoniae. Hen⯑ricus Howardus Comes Northamptoniae filius ſecundo genitus, hoc ſupremum pietatis in parentes monu⯑mentum 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 mar⯑ried, 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 pre⯑ſervation 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 [53] 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 Aeneid, 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 re⯑finer of our language, and challenges the gratitude and eſteem of every man of literature, for the gene⯑rous aſſiſtance he afforded it in its infancy, and his ready and liberal patronage to all men of merit in his time.
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 re⯑markably 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 [54] his prudent behaviour, and retracting what he had formerly advanced, he was reſtored again to his roy⯑al patro [...]age. He was cotemporary with the Earl of Surry, who held him in high eſteem. He tra⯑v [...]lled into foreign parts, and as we have obſerved in the Earl of Surry's life, he added ſomething to⯑wards 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 Pialms into Engliſh metre and other poe⯑tical works, Leland ſcruples not to compare him with Dante and Petrarch, by giving him this ample commendation.
Leland publiſhed all his works under the title of Naenia. 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 Charies V. but Wood aſſerts, that he was only ſent to Palmo by the King to meet the Spaniſh ambaſſador on the road, and conduct him to the court, which it ſeems demanded very great expe⯑dition; 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 Eng⯑land, 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 feel⯑ing; and too ſtiff, and negligent of harmony for a [55] 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 ſati⯑riſt. 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 verſifi⯑cation.
WAS ſon of Richard Sackville and Wini⯑frede, daughter of Sir John Bruges, Lord Mayor of London. * He was born at Buckhurſt in the pariſh of Withiam in Suſſex, and from his childhood was diſtinguiſhed for wit and manly be⯑haviour: He was firſt of the University of Oxford, but taking no degree there, he went to Cambridge, and commenced maſter of arts; he afterwards ſtu⯑died the law in the Inner-Temple, and became a [56] 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 † 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 ſtate⯑ly ſpeeches, and well ſounding phraſes, climbing to the height of Seneca's ſtile, and as full of no⯑table 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 [...]med 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 Ma⯑giſtrates, 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 prin⯑cipally 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 na⯑tion 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 [57] the appearance of Spencer, and if Mr. Sackville did not ſurpaſs him, it was becauſe he had the diſ⯑advantage 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 [...]th and 5th years of Queen Mary we find him in parlia⯑ment; 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 de⯑tained for ſome time priſoner at Rome. His return into England being procured, in order to take poſ⯑ſeſſion of the vaſt inheritance his father left him, he was knighted by the duke of Norfolk in her Majeſty's preſence ‡ 1567, and at the ſame day ad⯑vanced 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 * 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 im⯑preſſion on his generous humour, that thereupon he turned a thrifty improver of his eſtate.'’ But o⯑thers make him the convert of Queen Elizabeth, (to whom he was allied, his grandfather having mar⯑ried 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 im⯑portant [58] affairs where he was honourably received, according to his Queen's merit and his own; and having in company Guido Cavalcanti, a Gentle⯑man 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 * that ſat on the trial of Thomas Howard duke of Norfolk, † and on the 29th of Elizabeth, was no⯑minated 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 mention⯑ed amongſt the peers who met at Fotheringay Caſtle and condemned the Queen; yet when the parlia⯑ment 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 ma⯑ny 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 fol⯑lowing, without his knowledge, one of the Knights of the moſt noble Order of the Garter. He was [59] 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 Trea⯑ſurer 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 be⯑fore 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 conſider⯑ing 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 Eger⯑ton, Lord Chancellor, and the earl of Eſſex, Earl-Marſhal, for negotiating affairs with the Senate of Denmark, as alſo in a ſpecial commiſſion for ſup⯑preſſing ſchiſm, and afterwards when libels were diſperſed by the earl of Eſſex and his faction a⯑gainſt the Queen, intimating that her Majeſty took little care of the government, and altogether ne⯑glected the ſtate of Ireland, * his lordſhip engaged in a vindication of her Majeſty, and made anſwers [60] to theſe libels, repreſenting how brave and well re⯑gulated an army had been ſent into Ireland, com⯑pleatly furniſhed with all manner of proviſions, and likewiſe 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 ſu⯑ſpected 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, * and to deſire him to be careful of the company he kept. Eſſex being ſenſible that his ſcheme was al⯑ready 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 com⯑miſſion 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 South⯑ampton, and to treat and compound with ſuch of⯑fenders 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 ad⯑miniſtration being devolved on him and other coun⯑ſellors, who unanimouſly proclaimed King James, [61] 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 be⯑fore 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 ſudden⯑ly at the Council-Table, Whitehall, after a buſtling life devoted to the public weal; and the 26th of May following, his remains were de⯑poſited with great ſolemnity in Weſtminſter Ab⯑bey, 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 Baker 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 ſub⯑ject."’
By his dying ſuddenly at the Council-Table, his death was interpreted by ſome people in a myſte⯑rious manner; * 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 univer⯑ſal [62] grief of the nation, for which he had ſpent his ſtrength, and for whoſe intereſt, in a very im⯑mediate 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 Par⯑naſſus can devote themſelves to public buſineſs, or execute it with ſucceſs. I have already ob⯑ſerved, 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 pa⯑tron 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.
ONE of the aſſiſtants in the Mirror of Magiſtrates. He was born in the town of Shrewsbury * 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 in⯑herited 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 priſo⯑ner, 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 ob⯑ſcure merit; and unluckily he was as unhappy in his amours as in his circumſtances, ſome of his miſ⯑treſſes treating his addreſſes with contempt, perhaps, [64] on account of his poverty; for tho' it generally hap⯑pens that Poets have the greateſt power in courtſhip, as they can celebrate their miſtreſſes with more ele⯑gance than people of any other profeſſion; yet it very ſeldom falls out that they marry ſucceſsfully, as their needy circumſtances naturally deter them from ma⯑king advances to Ladies of ſuch faſhion as their ge⯑nius 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 works 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 Chan⯑cel of St. Margaret's, Weſtminſter. By his writ⯑ings, 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, happen⯑ed 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:
[65]His works according to Winſtanley are as fol⯑low:
Theſe twelve ſeveral pieces he bound together, calling them Churchyard's Chips, which he de⯑dicated to Sir Chriſtopher Hatton. He wrote be⯑ſide,
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 academi⯑cal life not ſuiting 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. * 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 [67] the 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.
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 man⯑ner of marriages. London 1547, and 1598, in two parts in quarto, all writ in old Engliſh verſe, and printed in an Engliſh character.
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 him⯑ſelf.
[69] 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.
DEſcended of an ancient family ſeated in Hert⯑fordſhire, was born there in a village not far from St. Alban's about the year 1510†. 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 abili⯑ties, he ſoon made a figure at the bar. He was the menial ſervant of King Henry VIII.‡ and diſ⯑charged 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 oeco⯑nomy, or by a boundleſs confidence in his friends, he reduced his affairs to a very indifferent ſituation, [70] which, perhaps, might be the reaſon, why he pro⯑cured himſelf to be choſen Member for the Borough of Plymouth in the county of Devon,‡ in the Par⯑liament 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-ſt [...]eet. No ſooner had the Houſe of Commons got notice of this inſult offered to one of their Mem⯑bers, than they immediately enacted a ſettled rule, which from that accident took place, with reſpect to privilege, and ever ſi [...]ce 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 Comp⯑ter, 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 Ser⯑jeant, upon which a fray enſued within the Comp⯑ter-gates, between Fe [...]ra [...]s and the officers, not with⯑out 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 [71] 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 de⯑mand by their authority.—The Sheriffs hearing that the Upper Houſe had concerned themſelves in it, and being afraid of their reſentment, reſto⯑red 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 Fer⯑rars, 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;* which, perhaps, might be owing to his being about the perſon of Prince Edward in his father's life-time. Another in⯑ſtance 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 en⯑tertain and divert the other‖. 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 [72] 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 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 law⯑yer, and a politician even in his poetry, as ap⯑pears from theſe pieces of his which are inſerted in the Mirror of Magiſtrates, and which are not infe⯑rior to any others that have found a place there†. In the early part of his life he wrote ſome tracts on his own profeſſion, which gained him great reputa⯑tion, 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 ſel⯑dom 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 [73] us, on the eighteenth of May the ſame year a com⯑miſſion was granted from the prerogative, to admi⯑niſter the goods, debts, chattles, &c. of George Ferrars lately deceaſed‖. 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 Ab⯑bey-lands, for that is but a precarious proof, but from his coming into the world under the protec⯑tion 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 mili⯑tary 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 pen⯑ſive, 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 ac⯑count he gave of himſelf, that he ſupplied him with money and credit to carry him to England. Crom⯑well 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 hap⯑pened [74] that this Italian merchant's circumſtances de⯑cayed, and he came to England to ſollicit the pay⯑ment 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 a⯑void payment. This not a little embarraſſed the foreigner, who was now in a ſituation forlorn enough. As providence would have it, lord Crom⯑well, then Earl of Eſſex, r [...]ding 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 re⯑member that circumſtance.—His lordſhip then en⯑quired 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 re⯑turned to ſpend the remainder of his days in com⯑petence and quiet, after having experienced in lord Eſſex as high an inſtance of generoſity and gratitude as perhaps ever was known. This n [...]b [...]e act of his lordſhip, employed, ſays Burnet, the pens of the beſt writers at that time in pane⯑gyri [...]s on ſo great a behaviour; the fineſt po⯑ets praiſed him; his moſt violent enemies could [75] 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 Ma⯑ry, tho' he ſhews himſelf a great admirer of the per⯑ſonal 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‡. The works of this author which are printed in the Mirror of Magiſtrates, are as follow;
Among theſe the Complaints of Eleanor Cob⯑ham, Ducheſs of Glouceſter, who was baniſhed for conſulting Conjurers and Fortune-tellers a⯑bout the Life of King Henry VI. and whoſe ex⯑ile 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.
THIS great ornament to human nature, to li⯑terature, and to Britain, was the ſon of Sir Henry S dney, 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, * and with other Engliſhmen took ſhelter in Sir Francis Walſingham's houſe, her Majeſty's [77] ambaſſador at that court. When this ſtorm ſub⯑ſided, he departed from Paris, went through Lor⯑rain, and by Straſburgh and Heydelburgh, to Francfort, in September or October following; where he ſettled for ſome time, and was enter⯑tained, agent for the duke of Saxony. At his re⯑turn, her Majeſty was one of the firſt who di⯑ſtinguiſhed his great abilities, and, as proud of ſo rich a treaſure, ſhe ſent him ambaſſador to Ro⯑dolph the emperor, to condole him on the death of Maximilian, and alſo to other princes of Ger⯑many. 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 ob⯑ſervations, 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 ſrom whatever court. Some years af⯑ter this, Wood obſerves, that in a book ca [...]led Cabala, he ſet forth his reaſons why the mar⯑riage 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 oc⯑caſioned his retirement from court for two years, when he wrote that renowned romance called Ar⯑cadia. We find him again in high favour, when the treaty of marriage was renewed; he was en⯑gaged [78] 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†
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 expediti [...]n 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 de⯑livered 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, eſpeci⯑ally 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 her times. He united the ſtateſ⯑man, the ſcholar and the ſoldier; and as by the one, he purchaſed ſame 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 beſore, 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 furi⯑ouſly choleric, than bravely proud, ſo forced him to forſake the field, but not his back, as the no⯑bleſt and fitteſt bier (ſays lord Brook) to carry a martial commander to his grave. In this progreſs, [79] paſſing along by the reſt of the army where his uncle the * 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 ſellow 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 oſ bravery, his politeneſs, his learning, and courtly accompliſhments, do not reflect ſo much honour up⯑on 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 overflow⯑ing with generous ſentiments, to relieve, in oppo⯑ſition to the violent call of his own neceſſities, a poor man languiſhing in the ſame diſtreſs, be⯑fore 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 en⯑deavouring to extol it. Bravery is often conſtitu⯑tional; 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 en⯑tire, [80] his body free from a fever, and his mind a⯑ble to endure, they might freely uſe their art, cut and ſearch to the bottom; but if they ſhould ne⯑glect their art, and renew torments in the decli⯑nation of nature, their ignorance, or over-tender⯑ne's would prove a kind of tyranny to their friend, and reflect no honour upon themſelves.
For ſometime they had great hopes of his recovery; and ſo zealous were they to promote it, and overjoy⯑ed at its ſeeming approach, that they ſpread the re⯑port of it, which ſoon reached London, and diſ⯑faſed 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 threat 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 not⯑withſtanding, ou [...] of love to his maſter, returning one day to dreſs his wound, the count chearfully a [...]ked 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 ſup⯑preſs his ſorrow, in which affection and nature [81] were too powerful for him, while the other de⯑monſtrated 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 admoniſh⯑ing words, ‘"My dear, much loved, honoured brother, love my memory; cheriſh my friends; their faith to me may aſſure you they are h [...] ⯑neſt. But above all, govern your will and af⯑fections, 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 ſui⯑tors to his Majeſty, and his noble friends, that they might have the honour of burying his body at the public expence of their government, * 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 exceed⯑ed it in ſolemnity, ſo few have equalled it in the undiſſembled ſorrow for his loſs†. King James writ an epitaph upon him, and the Muſes of Ox⯑ford lamenting him, compoſed elegies to his me⯑mory. [82] It may be juſtly ſaid of this great man, what a celebrated poet now living has applied to Archbiſhop Laud,
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 un⯑fortunately died without iſſue to perpetuate the living virtues of her illuſtrious family. She is ſaid to have been exceſſively beautiful; that ſhe mar⯑ried 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 no⯑bleman, ſhe became very jealous of this charming counteſs. It has been commonly reported‡ that Sir Philip, ſome hours before his death, enjoyn⯑ed 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, poſte⯑rity has thank'd h [...]m, and every future age will with gratitude acknowledge the favour.
Of all his works his Arcadia is the moſt cele⯑brated; 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 accompliſh⯑ment, 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 ex⯑cellent, that I cannot reſiſt the temptation of in⯑ſerting it here. She was buried in the Cathedral Church of Salisbury, among the graves of the fa⯑mily of the Pembrokes.
The Arcadia was printed firſt in 1613 in 4to; it has been tranſlated into almoſt every language. As the ancient Aegyptians 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 em⯑blems of lovers, ſo that the reader may be deceiv⯑ed, but not hurt, and happily ſurprized to more knowledge than he expected.
Beſides the celebrated Arcadia, Sir Philip wrote,
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 John⯑ſon 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.
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 Car⯑thage; 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, pre⯑ſuming 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 re⯑ported, wrote ſeveral diſcourſes againſt it, affirming Our Saviour to be a deceiver, the ſacred ſcrip⯑tures to contain nothing but idle ſtories, and all religion to be a device of policy and prieſtcraft; [86] but Marloe came to a very untimely end, as ſome remarked, in conſequence of his execrable blaſphe⯑mies. 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 rea⯑ſon to believe that his miſtreſs granted the fellow fa⯑vours, 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 pro⯑greſs 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 teſti⯑mony of his having thus heinouſly offended againſt his God, and againſt the beſt and moſt amiable ſy⯑ſtem of Religion that ever was, or ever can be: Marloe might poſſibly be inclined to free-thinking, without running the unhappy le [...]gths 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 him⯑ [...]elf Orthodox: The good Dr. Clarke himſelf, has been as ill ſpoken of as Wood ſpeaks of Marloe.
His other works are
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, [88] 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 obſceni⯑ty, 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, ſo 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 man⯑kind. 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 pub⯑lic 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 practiſing 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. Af⯑ter ſome years indulgence of this ſort, when his wit began to grow ſtale, we find him fallen into ab⯑ject 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 furni⯑niture 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 miſpent upon thoſe daugh⯑ters of deſtruction, would keep a family with de⯑cency, and maintain a wife with honour. When our author was in this forlorn miſerable ſtate, he [89] writ a letter to his wife, which Mr. Winſtanly has preſerved, 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 con⯑ſideration of thy abſence, (tho' ſhame would let me hardly behold thy face) but exceedingly aggravated, for that I cannot as I ought to thy own⯑ſelf 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 be⯑lieve; [90] 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 ſwear⯑ing 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 com⯑mit my ſoul."’
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 Ed⯑ward 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 Ba⯑con and Fair Enome. His other pieces are, Quip for an upſtart Courtier, and Doraſtus and Faw⯑nia. Winſtanley imputes likewiſe to him the fol⯑lowing pieces. Tully's Loves; Philomela, the La⯑dy Fitzwater's Nightingale; Green's News too Late, firſt and ſecond part; Green's Arcadia; [91] 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 ſur⯑feit taken by eating pickled herrings, and drinking with them rheniſh wine. At this fatal banquet, Thomas Naſh, his cotemporary at Cam⯑bridge was with him, who rallies him in his Apo⯑logy of Pierce Pennyleſs. Thus died Robert Green, whoſe end may be looked upon as a kind of puniſh⯑ment for a life ſpent in riot and infamy.
WAS born in London, and educated at Pem⯑broke Hall in Cambridge. The accounts of the birth and family of this great man are but obſcure and imperſect, 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 fellow⯑ſhip, in competition with Mr. Andrews, a gentle⯑man 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*; and we find him next reſiding at the houſe of a friend in the North, where he fell in love with his [92] Roſalind, whom he finely celebrates in his paſto⯑ral poems, and of whoſe cruelty he has written ſuch pathetical complaints.
It is probable that about this time Spenſer's ge⯑nius began firſt to diſtinguiſh itſelf; for the Shep⯑herd's Calendar, which is ſo full of his unproſpe⯑rous paſſion for Roſalind, was amongſt the firſt of his works of note, and the ſuppoſition is ſtrength⯑ened, by the conſideration of Poetry's being fre⯑quently the offspring of love and retirement. This work he addreſſed by a ſhort dedication to the Maecenas of his age, the immortal Sir Philip Sid⯑ney. This gentleman was now in the higheſt re⯑putation, 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 Pairy 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 or⯑dered 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 ſud⯑den and laviſh a bounty; but upon reading one [93] 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 acquain⯑tance and converſation, and prepared the way for his being known and received at court.
Tho' this ſeemed a promiſing omen, to be thus in⯑troduced to court, yet he did not inſtantly reap any advantage from it. He was indeed created poet lau⯑reat to Queen Elizabeth, but he for ſome time wore a barren laurel, and poſſeſſed only the place with⯑out the penſion*. 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 recep⯑tion 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 ap⯑proach 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 unfortu⯑nate 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 au⯑thor [94] ſeems to allude to the diſcouragement I have mentioned in the following ſtanza.
Theſe lines are certainly meant to reflect on Bur⯑leigh for neglecting him, and the Lord Treaſurer afterwards conceived a hatred towards him for the ſatire he apprehended was levelled at him in Mo⯑ther Hubbard's Tale. In this poem, the author has in the moſt lively manner, painted out the misfor⯑tune of depending on court favours. The lines which follow are among others very remarkable.
As this was very much the author's caſe, it pro⯑bably 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 re⯑ſented as an affront, by him who is the occaſion of them. There is a little ſtory, which ſeems founded [95] on the grievance juſt now mentioned, and is related by ſome as a matter of fact * 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 Bur⯑leigh 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 pe⯑tition, in which he reminded her of the order ſhe had given, in the following lines.
This paper produced the intended effect, and the Queen, after ſharply reproving the treaſurer, imme⯑diately directed the payment of the hundred pounds ſhe 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 diſ⯑charged his employment with skill and capacity, ap⯑pears ſufficiently by his diſcourſe on the ſtate of [96] 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 difficul⯑ties 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 Wal⯑ter 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 epithala⯑mium, 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 conti⯑nued 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 mu⯑tability) 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 ſe⯑renely [97] here, yet a train of misfortunes ſtill pur⯑ſued 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 Eng⯑land, where for want of his noble patron Sir Philip Sidney, he was plunged into new calami⯑ties, 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 powerf [...]l ene⯑my the Lord Burleigh, 1598. He was buried, ſays he, in Weſtminſter-Abbey, near the famous Geof⯑fery Chau [...]er, as he had deſired; his obſequies were attended by the poets of that time, and o⯑thers, 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 un⯑fortunate Earl of Eſſex. This is the account gi⯑ven 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 John⯑ſon told me that Spenſer's goods were robbed [98] 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* by abſolute want of bread; and that he refuſed twenty pieces ſent him by the Earl of Eſſex‡, and gave this anſwer to the per⯑ſon who brought them, that he was ſure he had no time to ſpend them."’
Mr. Drummond's works, from whence I have ex⯑t [...]acted 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 quota⯑tion, that no one may ſuſpect ſuch extraordinary cir⯑cumſtances 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 inſcrip⯑tion is falſe, either by the error of the carver, or perhaps it was put on when the monument was [...]aired.
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 con⯑cerning the life of one who was the greateſt or⯑nament [99] 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 fancy⯑ing oneſelf tranſported into Fairy Land, and there converſing with the Graces, in that enchan⯑ted region: In elegance of thinking and fertili⯑ty 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 no⯑bly he has imitated him, whoever reads his Caſ⯑tle of Indolence with taſte, will readily confeſs.
Mr. Addiſon, in his characters of the Engliſh Poets, addreſſed to Mr. Sacheverel, thus ſpeaks of Spenſer:
[100] 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 na⯑ture. Beſides the Fairy Queen, we find he had written ſeveral other pieces, of which we can on⯑ly 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, S [...]emmata Dudleyana, the Canticles paraphrazed, Eccleſiaſtes, Seven Pſalms, Hours of our Lord, Sacrifice of a Sinner, Purgatory, a S'ennight Slum⯑ber, 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 Epitha⯑lamion Thameſis, and his Dreams, both mentioned by himſelf in one of his letters, Mr. Hughes thinks they are ſtill preſerved, tho' under diffe⯑rent 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 re⯑ſpect, 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 [101] life prefixed to the laſt folio edition of his works, it is ſaid that his great grandſon Hugolin Spen⯑ſer, after the reſt [...]ration of king Charles II. wa [...] re⯑ſtored by the court of claims to ſo much of the lands as [...]uld be found to have been his anceſtors; there is another remarkable paſſage of which (ſays Hughes) I can give the reader much better aſ⯑ſurance: 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 deſcendant of Spenſer. His name procured him a favourable reception, and he applied him⯑ſelf particularly to Mr. Cong [...]eve, by whom he was generouſly recommended to the favour of the earl of Hallifax, who was then at the head of the trea [...]ury; 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 there⯑fore in all probability irrecoverably loſt.
The following ſtanzas are ſaid to be thoſe with which Sir Philip Sidney was firſt ſtruck.
The following is the picture.
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 ele⯑ [...]ated and ſublime a genius. The work I mean is his allegorical poem of the Fairy Queen.
[103] 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 ſub⯑ject of an epic poem. His execution was excel⯑lent, 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 he⯑roic poets. He had a large ſpirit, a ſharp judg⯑ment, 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 him⯑ſelf by following an unfaithful guide. Tho' be⯑ſides H [...]mer and Virgil he had read Taſſo, yet he rather ſuffered himſelf to be miſled by Arioſto, with whom blindly rambling on marvels and ad⯑ventures, he makes no conſcience of probability; all is fanciful and chimerical, without any uni⯑formity, 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 accom⯑pliſhment [104] of no one action; he raiſes up a he⯑ro for every one of his adventures, and endows each of them with ſome particular moral vir⯑tue, which renders them all equal, without ſub⯑ordination 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 through⯑out 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 conſpi⯑cuous in them; an ingenious piece of flattery, tho' it turned not much to his account. Had he lived [...]o finiſh his poem in the remaining [...] 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 ſpi⯑rit 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 Vir⯑gil, whom he has profeſſedly imitated, has ſur-paſſed him among the Romans, and only Wal⯑ler 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 Spen⯑ſer in a letter to Sir Walter Raleigh calls it, a continued allegory, or dark conceit, he gives us [105] 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 poe⯑tical picture, or hieroglyphick, which by its apt re⯑ſemblance, 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 inter⯑pretation. This will be more clearly apprehend⯑ed by conſidering. that as a ſimile is a more ex⯑tended metaphor, ſo an allegory is a kind of con⯑tinued ſimile, or an aſſemblage of ſimilitudes drawn out at full length.
The chief merit of this poem, no doubt, con⯑ſiſts 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 be⯑trays 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 au⯑thor has made of ſo romantic a ſtory. The ſe⯑veral books rather appear like ſo many ſeveral poems, than one entire fable. Each of them has its pe⯑culiar 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 [106] 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 conſidera⯑ble 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, deſcrib⯑ing in a ſeries of allegorical adventures, or epi⯑ſodes, the moſt noted virtues and vices. To com⯑pare 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 in⯑vention 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.
THE ſon of the celebrated epigramatiſt, was born in London, and in the 12th year of his [...]ge, 1517, was ſent to the Univerſity, where [107] 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†; but before he left his native country, he writ and tranſlated (ſays Wood) theſe things following,
Langbain obſerves, that tho' he cannot much commend the verſion of Heywood, as poetically el [...]gant, as he has choſen a meaſure of fourteen ſyl [...]a [...]les, 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, tha [...] he erdeavours 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 [109] 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 a⯑bout ſeventeen years, in explaining and diſcuſſing controverted queſtions, among thoſe he called He⯑retics, 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†. 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 a⯑way, and ſent out of England. Upon Heywood's being taken and committed to priſon, and the earl of Warwick thereupon ready to relieve his neceſ⯑ſity, he made a copy of verſes, mentioned by Sir John Harrington, concluding with theſe two;
He afterwards went to Rome, and at laſt ſettled in the city of Naples, where he became famili⯑arly [110] 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 compendi⯑um of a Hebrew grammar. Our author paid the common debt of nature at Naples, 1598, and was buried in the college of Jeſuits there.
A Writer who flouriſhed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; he was a Kentiſh man, and in his younger years educated at St. Mary Magda⯑len 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 obſo⯑lete expreſſions. Mr. Blount, a gentleman who has made himſelf known to the world, by ſeve⯑ral p [...]eces of his own writing (as Horae Subſecivae, his Microcoſmography, &c.) and who publiſh⯑ed 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 [111] 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 acknow⯑ledge 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 Ro⯑mance, 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 bom⯑baſt for language; and with this nonſenſe the court of Queen Elizabeth (whoſe times afford⯑ed better models for ſtile and compoſition, than almoſt any ſince) became miſerably infected, and greatly help'd to let in all the vile pedan⯑try 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;
WAS ſon of Nicholas Overbury, Eſq of Bur⯑ton in Glouceſterſhire, one of the Judges of the Marches†. 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 gentle⯑man 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*. His genius, which was of a ſprightly kind, could not bear the conſinement of a ſtudent, or the drudgery of read⯑ing law; he abandoned it therefore, and travelled into France, where he ſo improved himſelf in po⯑lite 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 contract⯑ed an intimacy, which afterwards grew into friend⯑ſhip 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 en⯑joy any felicity but in the company of him he [114] 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 influ⯑ence of beauty, that even the ſacred ties of friendſhip are broke aſunder by the magic ener⯑gy of theſe ſuperior charms. Carre fell in love with lady Frances Howard, daughter to the Earl of Suf⯑folk, and lately divorced from the Earl of Eſſex†. He communicated his paſſion to his friend, who was too penetrating not to know that no man could live with much comſort, 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 in⯑volve 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 indul⯑gence.
Carre, who was deſperately in love, for⯑getting 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 wo⯑man, will be at no loſs to conceive what recep⯑tion 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.
This was literally verified in the caſe of the coun⯑teſs; ſhe let looſe all the rage of which ſhe was capable againſt him, and as ſhe panted for the con⯑ſummation of the match between Carre and her, [115] 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 ve⯑ry 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 pro⯑vided, of much the ſame ſize and exterior appear⯑ance, 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 ho⯑nour; for if her husband had been really impo⯑tent as ſhe pretended, ſhe needed not have been afraid of the ſearch; and it proves that ſhe ei⯑ther injured her husband, by falſely aſperſing him, or that ſhe had violated her honour with other men. But which ever of theſe cauſes pre⯑vailed, 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 whe⯑ther a woman has yielded her virginity, than they can by examining a dead body, know [116] 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 paſ⯑ſions, which poor Sir Thomas Overbury dear⯑ly 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 no⯑minated 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 ſ [...]em again his friend, and to adviſe him ſtrongly to refuſe the em⯑baſſy, and at the ſame time in [...]inuate, 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 Cou [...]teſs 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 pre⯑vailed upon to forward a ſcheme for deſtroying poor Overbury by poiſon. Accordingly they conſulted with one Mrs. Turner, the firſt inventer (ſays Win⯑ſtanley of that horrid garb of yellow ruffs and cuffs, and in which garb ſhe was afterwards hanged) who having acquaintance with one James Franklin, a [117] 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 lan⯑guiſh 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 ſuc⯑ceſs promiſing ſo fair, Franklin buys various poi⯑ſons, White Arſenick, Mercury-Sublimate, Can⯑tharides, Red-Mercury, with three or four other deadly ingredients, which he delivered to Weſton, with inſtructions how to uſe them; who put them in⯑to 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 induſtri⯑ouſly 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 pic⯑ture."’
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 re⯑vealed; for notwithſtanding what the conſpirators [118] had given out, ſuſpicions ran high that Sir Thomas was poiſoned; upon which Weſton was ſtrictly ex⯑amined by Lord Cook, who before his lordſhip per⯑ſiſted in denying the ſame; but the Biſhop of Lon⯑don 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. Tur⯑ner and the Counteſs became acquainted, and diſ⯑covered 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 ac⯑cording to due courſe of law, he was hanged at Tyburn, after him Mrs. Turner, after her Frank⯑lin, 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 crimi⯑nals, the King, to the aſtoniſhment of all his ſub⯑jects, forgave them, but they were both forbid to appear at court.
There was ſomething ſtrangely unaccountable in the behaviour of Somerſet after condemna⯑tion. 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 con⯑ſtrued 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 concern⯑ing it, it might ſeem unfair to impute to this ſilly Prince more [...]aul [...]s than he perhaps committed: [119] 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 doubt⯑ful 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 Over⯑bury 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 him⯑ſelf, which I ſhall here inſert, as it ſerves to il⯑luſtrate his verſification.
Sir Thomas was about 32 years old when he was murthered, and is ſaid to have poſſeſſed an ac⯑cuteneſs, and ſtrength of parts that was aſtoniſhing; and ſome have related that he was proud of his abi⯑lities, [120] and over-bearing in company; but as there is no good authority for the aſſertion, it is more agree⯑able 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 Sa⯑vage, ſon of earl Rivers, which was acted in 1723, (by what was then uſually called The Summer Com⯑pany) with ſucceſs; of which we ſhall ſpeak more at large in the life of that unfortunate gentleman.
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 de⯑ſcended, is no where ſixed. 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 write [...]s and their works, and pro⯑feſſed 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 addreſ⯑ſing to his name a tragi-comedy, called Male-Con⯑tent; but we afterwards find him reflecting pretty ſeverely on Ben, on account of his Cataline and Se⯑janus, [121] as the reader will find on the peruſal of Marſ⯑ten'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 Sa⯑luſt 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.
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 Cour⯑tezan, was once revived ſince the Reſtoration, under the title of the Revenge, or a Match in * 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:
Beſides his dramatic poetry he writ three books of Satires, entitled, The Scourge of Villany, prin⯑ted in Octavo, London 1598. We have no account in what year our author died, but we find that [123] his works were publiſhed after his death by the great Shakeſpear, and it may perhaps be rea⯑ſonably concluded that it was about the year 1614.
THERE have been ſome ages in which provi⯑dence 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 barba⯑rous. 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 renown⯑ed Queen Elizabeth. It was then that liberty began to dawn, and the people having ſhook off the re⯑ſtraints of prieſtly auſterity, preſumed to think for themſelves. At an Aera ſo remarkable as this, ſo famous in his ſtory, it ſeems no wonder that the nation ſhould be bleſſed with thoſe immor⯑tal ornaments of wit and learning, who all con⯑ſpired at once to make it famous.—This aſtoniſh⯑ing 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 at⯑tempt 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 [124] the words of a great genius, in a prologue ſpoken by Mr. Garrick when he firſt opened Drury-lane houſe as Manager.
All men have diſcovered a curioſity to know the little ſtories and particularities of a great genius; for it often happens, that when we at⯑tend 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 charac⯑ter, 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 under⯑ſtood, 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 15 [...], 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 dea⯑ [...]er in wool, being incumbred with a large family [125] 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 great⯑er 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 an⯑cients. The delicacy of his taſte, and the natural bent of his own great genius, equal, if not ſupe⯑rior 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 na⯑turally 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 diſ⯑advantageous to him or no, may admit of diſpute; for tho' the knowledge of them might have made him more correct, yet it is not improba⯑ble, but that the regularity and deference for them which would have attended that correct⯑neſs, 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 know⯑ledge, [126] 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 mytho⯑logy. We find him very knowing in the cuſtoms, rites, and manners of the Romans. In Coriolanus, and Julius Caeſar, not only the ſpirit but manners of the Romans are exactly drawn; and ſtill a nicer diſtinction is ſhewn between the manners of the Ro⯑mans in the time of the former and the latter. His reading in the ancient hiſtorians is no leſs conſpicu⯑ous, 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 gene⯑ral, the Aegyptians, Venetians. French, &c. are drawn with equal propriety. Whatever object of nature, or branch of ſcience, he either ſpeaks or d [...]ſcribes, it is always with competent, if not ex⯑tenſive, 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 un⯑doubted 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 pre⯑tend, continues Mr. Pope, to ſay in what language he read them.
Mr. Warburton has ſtrongly contended for Shakeſ⯑pear's learning, and has produced many imitation; 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, [127] makes an ancient ſpeak the language of an ancient. So Julius Caeſar, Act I. Scene II.
This noble image is taken from the Olympic games. This majeſtic world is a ſine 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 Ro⯑manus; but the whole ſtory ſeems to allude to Caeſar'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. Scene I. Anthony ſays w [...]th an aſtoniſhing ſub⯑limity,
Taken from the Roman cuſtom of raiſing triumphal arches to perpetuate their victories.
And again, Act III. Scene IV. Octavia ſays to Anthony, of the difference between him and her brother,
This thought ſeems taken from the ſtory of Curtius leaping into the Chaſm in the Forum, in order to cloſe it, ſo that, as that was clo⯑ſed [128] by one Roman, if the whole world were to cleave, Romans only could ſolder it up. The me⯑taphor of ſoldering is extreamly exact, according to Mr. Warburton; for, ſays he, as metal is ſoldered up by metal that is more refined than that which it ſolders, ſo the earth was to be ſoldered by men, who are only a more refined earth.
The manners of other nations in general, the Egyptians, Venetians, French, &c. are drawn with equal propriety. An inſtance of this ſhall be pro⯑duced with regard to the Venetians. In the Mer⯑chant of Venice, Act IV. Scene I.
We are not to imagine the word royal to be a random founding epither. It is uſed with great propriety by the poet, and deſigned to ſhew him [...]ell acquainted with the hiſtory of the people, whom he here brings upon the ſtage. For when the French and Venetians in the beginning of the thir⯑teenth century, had won Conſtantinople, the French under the Emperor Henry endeavoured to extend their conq [...]eſts, in the provinces of the Grecian em⯑pire on the Terra firma, while the Venetians be⯑ing maſters of the ſea, gave liberty to any ſubject of the Republic, who would fit out veſſels to make themſelves maſters of the iſles of the Archipelago and other maritime places, to enjoy their con⯑queſts in ſovereignty, only doing homage to the Republic for their ſeveral principalities. In pur⯑ſuance of this licence, the Sanudo's, the Juſtiniani, the Grimaldi, the Summaripa's, and others, all Ve⯑netian merchants, erected principalities in the ſeve⯑ral places of the Archipelago, and thereby became truly, and properly Royal Merchants.
But there are ſeveral places which one cannot forbear thinking a tranſlation from claſſic writers.
[129]In the Tempeſt Act V. Scene II. Proſpero ſays,
So Medea in Ovid's Metamorphoſes,
But to return to the incidents of his life. Upon his quitting the grammar ſchool, he ſeems to have entire⯑ly devoted himſelf to that way of living which his father propoſed, and in order to ſettle in the world after a family manner, thought fit to marry while he was yet very young. His wife was the daughter of one Hatchway, ſaid to have been a ſubſtantial Yeo⯑man in the neighbourhood of Stratford. In this kind of domeſtic obſcurity he continued for ſome time, till by an unhappy inſtance of miſconduct, he was obliged to quit the place of his nativity, and take ſhelter in London, which luckily proved the occaſion of diſplaying one of the greateſt genius's that ever was known in dramatic poetry. He had the misfortuue to fall into ill company: Among theſe [130] were ſome who made a frequent practice of Deer⯑ſ [...]ealing, and who engaged him more than once in robbing a park, that belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecot near Stratford; for which he was proſe⯑cated by that gentleman, as he thought ſomewhat too ſeverely; and in order to revenge himſelf of this ſuppoſed ill uſage, he made a ballad upon him; and tho this, probably the firſt eſſay of his poetry, be loſt, yet it is ſaid to have been ſo very bitter, that it redoubled the proſecution againſt him to that de⯑gree, that he was obliged to leave his buſineſs and family for ſome time, and ſhelter himſelf in Lon⯑don. This Sir Thomas Lucy, was, it is ſaid, af⯑terwards ridiculed by Shakeſpear, under the well known character of Juſtice Shallow.
It is at this time, and upon this accident, that he is ſaid to have made his firſt acquaintance in the playhouſe. Here I cannot forbear relating a ſtory which Sir William Davenant told Mr. Betterton, who communicated it to Mr. Rowe; Rowe told it Mr. Pope, and Mr. Pope told it to Dr. Newton, the late editor of Milton, and from a gentleman, who heard it from him, 'tis here related.
Concerning Shakeſpear's firſt appearance in the playhouſe. When he came to London, he was with⯑out money and friends, and being a ſtranger he knew not to whom to apply, nor by what means to ſupport himſelf.—At that time coaches not being in uſe, and as gentlemen were accuſtomed to ride to the playhouſe, Shakeſpear, driven to the laſt neceſſity, went to the playhouſe door, and pick'd up a little money by taking care of the gentlemens horſes who came to the play; he became eminent even in that profeſſion, and was taken notice of for his di⯑ligence and skill in it; he had ſoon more buſineſs than he himſelf could manage, and at laſt hired boys under him, who were known by the name of Shakeſpear's boys: Some of the players accidental⯑ly converſing with him, found him ſo acute, and [131] maſter of ſo fine a converſation, that ſtruck there⯑with, they and recommended him to the houſe, in which he was firſt admitted in a very low ſtation, but he did not long remain ſo, for he ſoon diſtinguiſhed himſelf, if not as an extraordinary actor, at leaſt as a fine writer. His name is prin⯑ted, as the cuſtom was in thoſe times, amongſt thoſe of the other players, before ſome old plays, but without any particular account of what ſort of parts he uſed to play: and Mr. Rowe ſays, ‘"that tho' he very carefully enquired, he found the top of his performance was the ghoſt in his own Hamlet."’ ‘"I ſhould have been much more pleaſed,"’ continues Rowe, ‘"to have learned from ſome certain authority which was the firſt play he writ; it would be without doubt, a pleaſure to any man curious in things of this kind, to ſee and know what was the firſt eſſay of a fancy like Shakeſpear's."’ The higheſt date which Rowe has been able to trace, is Romeo and Juliet, in 1597, when the author was thirty-three years old; and Richard II. and III. the next year, viz. the thirty-fourth of his age. Tho' the order of time in which his ſeveral pieces were written be generally uncertain, yet there are paſſages in ſome few of them, that ſeem to fix their dates. So the chorus at the end of the fourth act of Henry V. by a compli⯑ment very handſomely turned to the Earl of Eſſex, ſhews the play to have been written when that Lord was general to the queen in Ireland; and his eulogium upon Queen Elizabeth, and her ſucceſſor King James in the latter end of his Henry VIII. is a proof of that play's being written after the acceſſion of the latter of theſe two princes to the throne of England. Whatever the particular times of his wri⯑ting were, the people of the age he lived in, who be⯑gan to grow wonderfully fond of diverſions of this kind, could not but be highly pleaſed to ſee a genius ariſe amongſt them, of ſo pleaſurable, ſo rich a vein, [132] and ſo plentifully capable of furniſhing their favou⯑rite entertainments. Beſides the advantage which Shakeſpear had over all men in the article of wit, he was of a ſweet, gentle, amiable diſpoſition, and was a moſt agreeable companion; ſo that he became dear to all that knew him, both as a friend and as a poet, and by that means was introduced to the beſt company, and held converſation with the fineſt cha⯑racters of his time. Queen Elizabeth had ſeveral of his plays acted before her, and that princeſs was too quick a diſcerner, and rewarder of merit, to ſuffer that of Shakeſpear to be neglected. It is that mai⯑den princeſs plainly whom he intends by
And in the ſame play he gives us a poetical and lively repreſentation of the Queen of Scots, and the fate ſhe met with,
Queen Elizabeth was ſo well pleaſed with the ad⯑mirable character of Falſtaff in the two parts of Hen⯑ry IV. that ſhe commanded him to continue it in one play more, and to make him in love. This is ſaid to have been the occaſion of his writing the Merry Wives of Windſor. How well ſhe was obey⯑ed, the play itſelf is a proof; and here I cannot help obſerving, that a poet ſeldom ſucceeds in any ſub⯑ject aſſigned him, ſo well as that which is his own [133] choice, and where he has the liberty of ſelecting: Nothing is more certain than that Shakeſpear has failed in the Merry Wives of Windſor. And tho' that comedy is not without merit, yet it falls ſhort of his other plays in which Falſtaff is introduced, and that Knight is not half ſo witty in the Merry Wives of Windſor as in Henry IV. The humour is ſcarcely natural, and does not excite-to laugh⯑ter ſo much as the other. It appears by the epi⯑logue to Henry IV. that the part of Falſtaff was written originally under the name of Oldcaſtle. Some of that family being then remaining, the Queen was pleaſed to command him to alter it, up⯑on which he made uſe of the name of Falſtaff. The firſt offence was indeed avoided, but I am not ſure whe⯑ther the author might not be ſomewhat to blame in his ſecond choice, ſince it is certain, that Sir John Falſtaff who was a knight of the garter, and a lieutenant-general, was a name of diſtinguiſhed merit in the wars with France, in Henry V. and Henry VIth's time.
Shakeſpear, beſides the Queen's bounty, was patronized by the Earl of Southampton, famous in the hiſtory of that time for his friendſhip to the unfortunate Earl of Eſſex. It was to that noble⯑man he dedicated his poem of Venus and Ado⯑nis, and it is reported, that his lordſhip gave our author a thouſand pounds to enable him to go through with a purchaſe he heard he had a mind to make. A bounty at that time very conſiderable, as money then was valued: there are few inſtances of ſuch liberality in our t [...]mes.
There is no certain account when Shakeſpear quitted the ſtage for a private life. Some have thought that Spenſer's Thalia in the Tears of the Muſes, where ſhe laments the loſs of her Willy in the comic ſcene, relates to our poet's abandoning the ſtage. But it is well known that Spenſer himſelf died in the year 1598, and five years [134] after this we find Shakeſpear's name amongſt the actors in Ben Johnſon's Sejanus, which firſt made its appearance in the year 1603, nor could he then have any thoughts of retiring, ſince that very year, a licenſe by King James the firſt was granted to him, with Burbage, Philipps, Hemmings, Condel, &c. to exerciſe the art of playing come⯑dies, tragedies, &c. as well at their uſual houſe called the Globe on the other ſide the water, as in any other parts of the kingdom, during his Majeſty's pleaſure. This licenſe is printed in Ry⯑mer's Faedera; beſides it is certain, Shakeſpear did not write Macbeth till after the acceſſion of James I. which he did as a compliment to him, as he there embraces the doctrine of witches, of which his Majeſty was ſo fond that he wrote a book cal⯑led Daemonalogy, in defence of their exiſtence; and likewiſe at that time began to touch for the Evil, which Shakeſpear has taken notice of, and paid him a fine turned compliment. So that what Spenſer there ſays, if it relates at all to Shakeſpear, muſt hint at ſome occaſional receſs which he made for a time.
What particular friendſhips he contracted with pri⯑vate men, we cannot at this time know, more than that every one who had a true taſte for merit, and could diſtinguiſh men, had generally a juſt value and eſteem for him. His exceeding candour and good nature muſt certainly have inclined all the gentler part of the world to love him, as the pow⯑er of his wit obliged the men of the moſt refined knowledge and polite learning to admire him. His acquaintance with Ben Johnſon began with a re⯑markable piece of humanity and good nature: Mr. Johnſon, who was at that time altogether unknown to the world, had offered one of his plays to the ſtage, in order to have it acted, and the perſon into whoſe hands it was put, after having turned it care leſsly over, was juſt upon returning it to him with an ill-natured anſwer, that it would be of no ſer⯑vice [135] to their company, when Shakeſpear luckily caſt his eye upon it, and found ſomething ſo well in it, as to engage him firſt to read it through, and afterwards to recommend Mr. Johnſon and his writings to the public.
The latter part of our author's life was ſpent in eaſe and retirement, he had the good fortune to ga⯑ther an eſtate equal to his wants, and in that to his wiſh, and is ſaid to have ſpent ſome years before his death in his native Stratford. His pleaſant wit and good nature engaged him in the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendſhip, of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. It is ſtill remembered in that county, that he had a particular intimacy with one Mr. Combe, an old gentleman, noted there⯑abouts for his wealth and uſury. It happened that in a pleaſant converſation amongſt their common friends, Mr. Combe merrily told Shakeſpear, that he fancied he intended to write his epitaph, if he happened to out-live him; and ſince he could not know what might be ſaid of him when dead, he deſired it might be done immediately; upon which Shakeſpear gave him theſe lines.
But the ſharpneſs of the ſatire is ſaid to have ſtung the man ſo ſeverely, that he never forgave it.
Shakeſpear died in the fifty-third year of his age, and was buried on the North ſide of the chancel in the great church at Stratford, where a monument is placed on the wall. The following is the inſcription on his grave-ſtone.
[136] He had three daughters, of whom two lived to be married; Judith the elder to Mr. Thomas Quin⯑cy; by whom ſhe had three ſons, who all died with⯑out children; and Suſannah, who was his favourite, to Dr. John Hall, a phyſician of good reputation in that county. She left one child, a daughter, who was married to Thomas Naſh, Eſq and afterwards to Sir John Bernard, of Abington, but deceaſed likewiſe without iſſue.
His dramatic writings were firſt publiſhed toge⯑ther in folio 1623 by ſome of the actors of the diffe⯑rent companies they had been acted in, and perhaps by other ſervants of the theatre into whoſe hands copies might have fallen, and ſince republiſhed by Mr. Rowe, Mr. Pope, Mr. Theobald, Sir Thomas Hanmer, and Mr. Warburton.
Ben Johnſon in his diſcoveries has made a ſort of eſſay towards the character of Shakeſpear. I ſhall preſent it the reader in his own words, ‘'I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakeſpear, that in writing he never blotted out a line. My anſwer hath been, would he had blotted out a thouſand! which they thought a malevolent ſpeech. I had not told poſterity this, but for their ignorance, who chuſe that circumſtance to commend their friend by, wherein he moſt faulted; and to juſtify my own character (for I lov'd the man, and do honour to his memory, on this ſide idolatry, as much as any). He was indeed honeſt, and of an open free nature, had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expreſſions, wherein he flowed with that facility, that ſometimes it was neceſſary he ſhould be ſtopp'd. His wit was in his own power: would the rule of it had been ſo. Ma⯑ny times he fell into thoſe things which could not eſcape laughter, as when he ſaid in the perſon of Caeſar, one ſpeaking to him,‘[137] " Caeſar thou doſt me wrong."’’
‘'He replied, "Caeſar did never wrong, but with juſt cauſe;"’
‘'And ſuch like, which were ridiculous; but he redeemed his vices with his virtues; there was ever more in them to be praiſed, than to be pardoned.'’ Ben in his converſation with Mr. Dru⯑mond of Hawthornden, ſaid, that Shakeſpear wanted art, and ſometimes ſenſe. The truth is, Ben was himſelf a better critic than poet, and though he was ready at diſcovering the faults of Shakeſpear, yet he was not maſter of ſuch a ge⯑nius, as to riſe to his excellencies; and great as John⯑ſon was, he appears not a little tinctured with envy. Notwithſtanding the defects of Shakeſpear, he is juſtly elevated above all other dramatic writers. If ever any author deſerved the name of original (ſays Pope) it was he: * ‘'His poetry was inſpi⯑ration indeed; he is not ſo much an imitator, as inſtrument of nature; and it is not ſo juſt to ſay of him that he ſpeaks from her, as that ſhe ſpeaks through him. His characters are ſo much nature herſelf, that it is a ſort of injury to call them by ſo diſtant a name as copies of her. The power over our paſſions was likewiſe never poſ⯑ſeſſed in ſo eminent a degree, or diſplayed in ſo many different inſtances, nor was he more a maſter of the great, than of the ridiculous in human nature, nor only excelled in the paſſions, ſince he was full as admirable in the coolneſs of reflection and reaſoning: His ſentiments are not only in general the moſt pertinent and judicious up⯑on every ſubject, but by a talent very peculiar, [138] ſomething between penetration and felicity, he hits upon that particular point, on which the bent of each argument, or the force of each mo⯑tive depends.'’
Our author's plays are to be diſtinguiſhed only into Comedies and Tragedies. Thoſe which are called Hiſtories, and even ſome of his Comedies, are really Tragedies, with a mixture of Comedy amongſt them. That way of Tragi-comedy was the common miſtake of that age, and is indeed be⯑come ſo agreeable to the Engliſh taſte, that though the ſeverer critics among us cannot bear it, yet the generality of our audiences ſeem better pleaſed with it than an exact Tragedy. There is certainly a great deal of entertainment in his comic hu⯑mours, and a pleaſing and well diſtinguiſhed vari⯑ety in thoſe characters he thought fit to exhibit with. His images are indeed every where ſo live⯑ly, that the thing he would repreſent ſtands full before you, and you poſſeſs every part of it; of which this inſtance is aſtoniſhing: it is an image of patience. Speaking of a maid in love, he ſays,
But what is characteriſtically the talent of Shake⯑ſpear, and which perhaps is the moſt excellent part of the drama, is the manners of his perſons, in acting and in ſpeaking what is proper for them, and fit to be ſhewn by the Poet, in making an ap⯑parent difference between his characters, and mark⯑ing every one in the ſtrongeſt manner.
Poets who have not a little ſucceeded in writ⯑ing for the ſtage, have yet fallen ſhort of their great original in the general power of the drama; [139] none ever found ſo ready a road to the heart; his tender ſcenes are inexpreſſibly moving, and ſuch as are meant to raiſe terror, are no leſs a⯑larming; but then Shakeſpear does not much ſhine when he is conſidered by particular paſſages; he ſometimes debaſes the nobleſt images in nature by expreſſions which are too vulgar for poetry. The ingenious author of the Rambler has ob⯑ſerved, that in the invocation of Macbeth, before he proceeds to the murder of Duncan, when he thus expreſſes himſelf,
that the words dunneſt and blanket, which are ſo common in vulgar mouths, deſtroy in ſome man⯑ner the grandeur of the image, and were two words of a higher ſignification, and removed above com⯑mon uſe, put in their place, I may challenge po⯑etry itſelf to ſurniſh an image ſo noble. Poets of an inferior claſs, when conſidered by particular paſſages, are excellent, but then their ideas are not ſo great, their drama is not ſo ſtriking, and it is plain enough that they poſſeſs not ſouls ſo ele⯑vated as Shakeſpear's. What can be more beau⯑tiful than the flowing enchantments of Rowe; the delicate and tender touches of Otway and Southern, or the melting enthuſiaſm of Lee and Dryden, but yet none of their pieces have affect⯑ed the human heart like Shakeſpear's.
But I cannot conclude the character of Shake⯑ſpear, without taking notice, that beſides the ſuf⯑frage of almoſt all wits ſince his time in his fa⯑vour, he is particularly happy in that of Dryden, who had read and ſtudied him clearly, ſometimes borrowed from him, and well knew where his [140] ſtrength lay. In his Prologue to the Tempeſt al⯑tered, he has the following lines;
The plays of this great author, which are forty-three in number, are as follows,
Our age, which demonſtrates its taſte in nothing ſo truly and juſtly as in the admiration it pays to [143] the works of Shakeſpear, has had the honour of raiſing a monument for him in Weſtminſter Abbey; to effect which, the Tragedy of Julius Caeſar was acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, April 28, 1738, and the profits ariſing from it depoſited in the hands of the earl of Burlington, Mr. Pope, Dr. Mead, and others, in order to be laid out upon the ſaid monument. A new Prologue and Epilogue were ſpo⯑ken on that occaſion; the Prologue was written by Benjamin Martyn eſquire; the Epilogue by the hon. James Noel eſquire, and ſpoke by Mrs. Porter. On Shakeſpear's monument there is a noble epi⯑taph, taken from his own Tempeſt, and is excel⯑lently appropriated to him; with this let us cloſe his life, only with this obſervation, that his works will never be forgot, 'till that epitaph is fulfilled.—When
THE tranſlator of the famous Du Bartas's Weeks and Works; was cotemporary with George Chapman, and flouriſhed in the end of Elizabeth and King James's reign; he was called by the poets in his time, the ſilver-tongu'd Sylveſter, but it is doubtful whether he received any academical education. In his early years he is reported to have been a merchant adventurer*. Queen [144] Elizabeth is ſaid to have had a reſpect for him, her ſucceſſor ſtill a greater, and Prince Henry great⯑er than his father; the prince ſo valued our bard, that he made him his firſt Poet-Penſioner. He was not m [...]re celebrated for his poetry, than his extraordinary private virtues, his ſobriety and ſin⯑cere attachment to the duties of religion. He was alſo remarkable for his fortitude and reſolution in combating adverſity: we are further told that he was perfectly acquainted with the French, Italian, Latin, Dutch and Spaniſh languages. And it is related of him, that by endeavouring to correct the vices of the times with too much aſperity, he ex⯑poſed himſelf to the reſentment of thoſe in power, who ſignified their diſpleaſure, to the mortification and trouble of the author. Our poet gained more reputation by the tranſlation of Du Bartas, than by any of his own compoſitions. Beſides his Weeks and Works, he tranſlated ſeveral other productions of that author, namely, ‖ Eden, the Deceit, the Furies, the Handicrafts, the Ark, Babylon, the Colonies, the Columns, the Fathers, Jonas, Urania, Triumph of Faith, Miracle of Peace, the Vocation, the Daw; the Captains, the Trophies, the Magniſicence, &c. alſo a Paradox of Odes de la Nove, Baron of Teligni with the Quadrians of Pibeac; all which tranſlations were generally well received; but for his own works, which were bound up with them, they received not, ſays Winſtanley, ſo general an approbation, as may be ſeen by theſe verſes:
In the year 1618 this author died at Middle⯑burgh in Zealand, aged 55 years, and had the fol⯑lowing epitaph made on him by his great admirer John Vicars beforementioned, but we do not find that it was put upon his tomb-ſtone.
WAS the ſon of a muſic maſter, and born near Taunton in Somerſetſhire, in the year 1562. In 1579 he was admitted a commoner in Magdalen Hall in Oxford, where he remained a⯑bout three years, and by the aſſiſtance of an ex⯑cellent tutor, made a very great proficiency in aca⯑demical learning; but his genius inclining him more to ſtudies of a gayer and ſofter kind, he quitted the Univerſity, and applied himſelf to hiſtory and poetry. His own merit, added to the recommen⯑dation of his brother in law, (John Florio, ſo well known for his Italian Dictionary) procured him the patronage of Queen Anne, the conſort of King James I. who was pleaſed to confer on him the honour of being one of the Grooms of the Privy-Chamber, which enabled him to rent a houſe near London, where privately he compoſed many of his dramatic pieces. He was [146] tutor to Lady Ann Clifford, and on the death of the great Spenſer, he was appointed Poet Laureat to Queen Elizabeth. Towards the end of his life he retired to a farm which he had at Becking⯑ton near Philips-Norton in Somerſetſhire, where after ſome time ſpent in the ſervice of the Muſes, and in religious contemplation, he died in the year 1619. He left no iſſue by his wife Juſtina, to whom he was married ſeveral years. Wood ſays, that in the wall over his grave there is this inſcrip⯑tion;‘Here lies expecting the ſecond coming of our Lord and Saviour Jeſus Chriſt, the dead body of Samuel Daniel eſquire, that excellent poet and hiſtorian, who was tutor to Lady Ann Clifford in her youth, ſhe that was daughter and heir to George Clifford earl of Cumberland; who in gratitude to him erected this monument to his memory a long time after, when ſhe was Counteſs Dowager of Pembroke, Dorſet and Montgomery. He died in October, Anno 1619.’
Mr. Daniel's poetical works, conſiſting of dra⯑matic and other pieces, are as follow;
Theſe two pieces reſemble each other, both in ſubject and ſtile, being written in the Ovidian manner, with great tenderneſs and variety of paſ⯑ſion. The meaſure is Stanzas of ſeven lines. Let the following ſpecimen ſhew the harmo⯑ny and delicacy of his numbers, where he makes Roſamond ſpeak of beauty in as expreſſive a man⯑ner as deſcription can reach.
But however well qualified our author's genius was for poetry, yet Langbain is of opinion that his hiſtory is the crown of all his works. It was printed about the year 1613, and dedicated to Queen Anne. It reaches from the ſtate of Britain under the Romans, to the beginning of the reign of Richard II. His hiſtory has received enco⯑miums from various hands, as well as his poetry: It was continued by John Truſul, with like brevity and candour, but not with equal ele⯑gance, 'till the reign of Richard III. A. D. 1484. Mr. Daniel lived reſpected by men of worth and faſhion, he paſſed through life without taſt⯑ing many of the viciſſitudes of fortune; he ſeems to have been a ſecond rate genius, and a tolera⯑ble verſifier; his poetry in ſome places is tender, but want of fire is his characteriſtical fault. He was unhappy in the choice of his ſubject of a civil war for a poem, which obliged him to deſcend to minute deſcriptions, and nothing merely narrative can properly be touched in po⯑etry, which demands flights of the imagination and bold images.
BORN at Kelſton near the city of Bath, was the ſon of John Harrington eſquire, who was impriſoned in the Tower in the reign of Queen Mary, for holding a correſpondence with the La⯑dy Elizabeth; with whom he was in great favour af⯑ter her acceſſion to the crown, and received many [150] teſtimonies of her bounty and gratitude. Sir John, our author, had the honour to be her god-ſon, and both in reſpect to his father's merit, and his own, he was ſo happy to poſſeſs her eſteem to the laſt†. He had the rudiments of his education at Eaton; thence removing to Cambridge, he there commenced maſter of arts, and before he arrived at his 30th year, he favoured the world with a tranſlation of the Orlando Furioſo of Arioſto, by which he acquired ſome reputation. After this work, he compoſed four books of epigrams, which in th [...]ſe [...]mes were received with great applauſe; ſeveral of theſe mention another humorous piece of his called Miſacmos Metamorphoſis, which for a while expoſed him to her Majeſty's reſentment, yet he was afterwards received into favour. This (ſays Mrs. Cooper) is not added to the reſt of his works, and therefore ſhe ſuppoſes was only meant for a Court amuſement, not the entertainment of the public, or the increaſe of his ſame. In the reign of King James I. he was created Knight of the Bath*, and preſented a manuſcript to Prince Henry, called a Brief View of the State of the Church of England, as it ſtood in Queen Eliza⯑beth and King James's reign in the year 1608. This piece was levelled chiefly againſt the mar⯑ried biſhops, and was intended only for the pri⯑vate uſe of his Highneſs, but was ſome years af⯑terwards publiſhed by one of Sir John's grand⯑ſons, and occaſioned much diſpleaſure from the clergy, who did not fail to recollect that his con⯑duct was of a piece with his doctrines, as he, to⯑gether with Robert earl of Leiceſter, ſupported Sir Walter Raleigh in his ſuit to Queen Elizabeth for the manor of Banwell, belonging to the biſhopric of Bath and Wells, on the preſumption that the right reverend incumbent had incurred a Premunire, by marrying a ſecond wife.
[151] Sir John appears to be a gentleman of great pleaſantry and humour; his fortune was eaſy, the court his element, and which is ever an ad⯑vantage to an author, wit was not his buſineſs, but diverſion: 'Tis not to be doubted, but his tranſla⯑tion of Arioſto was publiſhed after Spenſer's Fairy Queen, and yet both in language and numbers it is much inferior, as much as it is reaſonable to ſuppoſe the genius of Harrington was below that of Spenſer.
Mrs. Cooper remarks, that the whole poem of Or⯑lando is a tedious medley of unnatural characters, and improbable events, and that the author's patron, Cardinal Hippolito De Eſte, had ſome reaſon for that ſevere queſtion, Where the devil, Signior Lu⯑dovico, did you pick up all theſe damned lies? The genius of Arioſto ſeems infinitely more fit for ſatire than heroic poetry; and ſome are of opinion, that had Harrington wrote nothing but epigrams, he had been more in his own way.
We cannot certainly fix the time that Sir John died, but it is reaſonable to ſuppoſe that it was a⯑bout the middle, or rather towards the latter end of James I's reign. I ſhall ſubjoin an epigram of his as a ſpecimen of his poetry.
A Poet who lived in the reign of King James I. and as he was cotemporary with Ben John⯑ſon, ſo he became more eminent by having a quarrel with that great man, than by all his works. Decker was but an indifferent poet, yet even in thoſe days he wanted not his admirers; he had alſo friends among the poets; one of whom, Mr. Richard Brome, always called him Father; but it is the misfortune of little wits, that their admirers are as inconſidera⯑ble as themſelves, for Brome's applauſes confer no great honour on thoſe who enjoy them. Our au⯑thor joined with Webſter in writing three plays, and with Rowley and Ford in another; and Langbaine aſſerts. that theſe plays in which he only contribu⯑ted a part, far exceed thoſe of his own compoſiti⯑on. He has been concerned in eleven plays, eight whereof are of his own writing, of all which I ſhall give an account in their alphabetical order.
Beſides theſe plays he joined with Rowley and Ford in a play called, The Witch of Edmonton, of which ſee Rowley.
There are four other plays aſcribed to our author, in which he is ſaid by Mr. Phillips and Winſtanley to be an aſſociate with John Webſter, viz. Noble Stranger; New Trick to cheat the Devil; Weakeſt [154] goes to the Wall; Woman will have her Will; in all which Langbaine aſſerts they are miſtaken, for the firſt was written by Lewis Sharp, and the other by anonymous authors.
WERE two famous dramatiſts in the reign of James I. Theſe two friends were ſo cloſely united as authors, and are ſo jointly concerned in the applauſes and cenſures beſtowed upon their plays, that it cannot be thought improper to connect their lives under one article.
Was deſcended from the ancient family of his name, ſeated at Grace dieu in Leiceſterſhire, * and was born about the year 1585 in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. His grandfather, John Beaumont, was Maſter of the Rolls, and his father Francis Beau⯑mont, one of the Judges of the Common Pleas. Our poet had his education at Cambridge, † but of what college we are not informed, nor is it very material to know. We find him afterwards admit⯑ted a ſtudent in the Inner-Temple, but we have no account of his making any proficiency in the law, which is a circumſtance attending almoſt all the poets who were bred to that profeſſion, which few men of ſprightly genius care to be confined to. Before he was thirty years of age he di⯑ed, in 1615, and was buried the ninth of the ſame month in the entrance of St. Benedictine's Chapel, [155] within St. Peter's Weſtminſter. We meet with no inſcription on his tomb, but there are two epitaphs writ on him, one by his elder brother Sir John Beaumont, and the other by Biſhop Corbet. That by his brother is pretty enough, and is as fol⯑lows:
Our poet left behind him one daughter, Mrs. Frances Beaumont, who lived to a great age and died in Leiceſterſhire ſince the year 1700. She had been poſſeſſed of ſeveral poems of her father's writing, but they were loſt at ſea in her voyage from Ireland, where ſhe had lived ſometime in the Duke of Ormond's family. Beſides the plays in which Beaumont was jointly concerned with Fletcher, he writ a little dramatic piece entitled, A Maſque of Grays-Inn Gentlemen, and the Inner-Temple; a poetical epiſtle to Ben Johnſon; verſes to his friend Mr. John Fletcher, upon his faithful Shepherd, and other poems printed together in 1653, 8vo. That paſtoral which was written by Fletcher alone, having met with but an indifferent reception, Beaumont ad⯑dreſſed the foll [...]wing copy of verſes to him on that occaſion, in which he repreſents the hazard of writing for the ſtage, and ſatirizes the audience for [156] want of judgment, which, in order to ſhew his verſification I ſhall inſert.
Mr. Beaumont was eſteemed ſo accurate a judge of plays, that Ben Johnſon, while he lived, ſubmitted all his writings to his cenſures; and it is thought, uſ⯑ed his judgment in correcting, if not contriving moſt of his plots.
Was ſon of Dr. Richard Fletcher, Lord Biſhop of London, and was born in Northamptonſhire in the year 1576. He was educated at Cambridge, probably at Burnet-college, to which his father was by his laſt will and teſtament a benefactor*. He wrote plays jointly with Mr. Beaumont, and Wood [157] ſays he aſſiſted Ben Johnſon in a Comedy called The Widow. After Beaumont's death, it is ſaid he conſulted Mr. James Shirley in forming the plots of ſeveral of his plays, but which thoſe were we have no means of diſovering. The editor of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays in 1711 thinks it very probable that Shirley ſupplied many that were left imperfect, and that the players gave ſome remains of Fletcher's for Shirley to make up; and it is from hence (he ſays) that in the firſt act of Love's Pilgrimage, there is a ſcene of an oſtler tranſcribed verbatim out of Ben Johnſon's New Inn, Act I. Scene I. which play was written long after Fletcher died, and tranſplanted into Love's Pilgrimage, after printing the New Inn, which was in the year 1630, and two of the plays printed under Fletcher's name. The Coronation and The Little Thief have been claimed by Shir⯑ley as his; it is probable they were left imper⯑fect by the one, and finiſhed by the other. Mr. Fletcher died of the plague in the forty ninth year of his age, the firſt of King Charles I. An. 1625, and was buried in St. Mary Overy's Church in Southwark.
Beaumont and Fletcher, as has been obſerved, wrote plays in concert, but what ſhare each bore in forming the plots, writing the ſcenes, &c. is unknown. The general opinion is, that Beaumont's judgment was uſually employed in correcting and retrenching the ſuperfluities of Fletcher's wit, whoſe fault was, as Mr. Cartwright expreſſes it, to do too much; but if Winſtanley may be credited, the former had his ſhare likewiſe in the drama, for that author relates, that our poets meeting once at a tavern in order to form the rude draught of a tragedy, Fletcher undertook to kill the king, which words being overheard by a waiter, he was officious enough, in order to recommend himſelf, to lodge an information againſt them: but their loy⯑alty [158] being unqueſtioned, and the relation of the circumſtance probable, that the vengeance was only aimed at a theatrical monarch, the affair ended in a jeſt.
The firſt play which brought them into eſ⯑teem, as Dryden ſays, was Philaſter, or Love lies a Bleeding; for, before that, they had written two or three very unſucceſsfully, as the like is re⯑ported of Ben Johnſon before he writ Every Man in his Humour. Theſe authors had with the advantage of the wit of Shakeſpear, which was their prece⯑dent, great natural gifts improved by ſtudy. Their plots are allowed generally more regular than Shake⯑ſpear's; they touch the tender paſſions, and excite love in a very moving manner; their faults, not⯑withſtanding Beaumont's caſtigation, conſiſt in a certain luxuriance, and ſtretching their ſpeeches to an immoderate length; † however, it muſt be owned their wit is great, their language ſuited to the paſſions they raiſe, and the age in which they lived is a ſufficient apology for their defects. Mr. Dryden tells us, in his Eſſay on Dramatic Po⯑etry, that Beaumont and Fletcher's plays in his time were the moſt pleaſing and frequent enter⯑tainments of the ſtage, two of theirs being acted through the year for one of Shakeſpear's or Johnſon's; and the reaſon he aſſigns is, becauſe there is a certain gaiety in their comedies, and a pathos in their moſt ſerious plays which ſuits generally with all men's humours; but however it might be when Dryden writ, the caſe is now reverſed, for Beaumont and Fletcher's plays are not acted above once a ſeaſon, while one of Shakeſpear's is re⯑preſented [159] almoſt every third night. It may ſeem ſtrange, that wits of the firſt magnitude ſhould not be ſo much honoured in the age in which they live, as by poſterity;* it is now faſhionable to be in rap⯑tures with Shakeſpear; editions are multiplied up⯑on editions, and men of the greateſt genius have employed all their power in illuſtrating his beauties, which ever grow upon the reader, and gain ground upon peruſal. Theſe noble authors have received incenſe of praiſe from the higheſt pens; they were loved and eſteemed by their co⯑temporaries, who have not failed to demonſtrate their reſpect by various copies of verſes at dif⯑ferent times, and upon different occaſions, ad⯑dreſſed to them, the inſertion of which would ex⯑ceed the bounds propoſed for this work. I ſhall only obſerve, that amongſt the illuſtrious names of their admirers, are Denham, Waller, Cart⯑wright, Ben Johnſon, Sir John Berkenhead, and Dryden himſelf, a name more than equal to all the reſt. But the works of our authors have not eſcaped the cenſure of critics, eſpecially Mr. Rhymer the hiſtoriographer, who was really a man of wit and judgment, but ſomewhat ill natured; for he has laboured to expoſe the faults, without taking any notice of the beauties of Rollo Duke of Nor⯑mandy, the King and No King, and the Maids Tragedy, in a piece of his called The Tragedies of the Laſt Age conſidered, and examined by the practice of the ancients, and by the common ſenſe of all ages, in a letter to Fleetwood Shepherd eſquire. Mr. Rymer ſent one of his books as a [160] preſent to Mr. Dryden, who in the blank leaves before the beginning, and after the end of the book, made ſeveral remarks, as if he intended to publiſh an anſwer to that critic, and his opinion of the work was this†; ‘"My judgment (ſays he) of this piece, is, that it is extremely learned, but the author ſeems better acquainted with the Greek, than the Engliſh poets; that all writers ought to ſtudy this critic as the beſt account I have ſeen of the ancients; that the model of tragedy he has here given is extremely correct. but that it is not the only model of tragedy, becauſe it is too much circumſcribed in the plot, characters, &c. And laſtly, that we may be taught here juſtly to admire and imitate the ancients, without giving them the preference, with this author, in prejudice to our own coun⯑try."’
Some of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays were printed in quarto during the lives of their authors; and in the year 1645 twenty years after Fletch⯑er's death, there was publiſhed in folio a collec⯑tion of their plays which had not been printed be⯑fore, amounting to between thirty and forty. At the beginning of this volume are inſerted a great number of commendatory verſes, written by the moſt eminent wits of that age. This collection was publiſhed by Mr. Shirley after ſhutting up the Theatres, and dedicated to the earl of Pembroke by ten of the moſt famous actors. In 1679 there was an edition of all their plays publiſhed in folio. Another edition in 1711 by Tonſon in ſeven volumes 8vo. containing all the verſes in praiſe of the authors, and ſupplying a large omiſ⯑ſion of part of the laſt act of Thierry and Theodoret, There was alſo another edition in 1751.
[161] The plays of our authors are as follow,
Mr. Beaumont writ beſides his dramatic pieces, a volume of poems, elegies, ſonnets, &c.
WAS deſcended from a family of his name living in Lincolnſhire, but whether born there, is not aſcertained. He made his firſt ap⯑pearance at the univerſity of Oxford about the year 1573, and was afterwards a ſcholar under the learned Mr. Edward Hobye of Trinity Col⯑lege; where, ſays Wood, making very early ad⯑vances, [165] his ingenuity began firſt to be obſerved, in ſeveral of his poetical compoſitions. After he had taken one degree in arts, and dedicated ſome time to reading the bards of antiquity, he gained ſome reputation in poetry, particularly of the ſatiric ſpecies; but being convinced how barren a ſoil poetry is, and how unlikely to yield a competent proviſion for its profeſſors, he ſtudied phyſic, for the improvement of which he went beyond ſea, took the degree of Dr. of that faculty at Avignon, returned and was incor⯑porated in the univerſity in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's reign: Afterwards ſettling in London, he practiſed phyſic with great ſucceſs, and was particularly encouraged by the Roman Ca⯑tholics, of which perſuaſion it is ſaid he was.
Our author hath written
He alſo tranſlated into Engliſh, Joſephus's Hiſto⯑ry of the Antiquity of the Jews, London 1602. The works both moral and natural of Seneca, Lon⯑don 1614. This learned gentleman died in the year 1625, and had tributes paid to his memory by many of his contemporary poets, who characteriſed him as a man of very conſiderable genius. Win⯑ſtanley has preſerved an amorous ſonnet of his, which we ſhall here inſert.
When our author wiſhes to be changed into a loath⯑ſome ſwine, ſo he might dwell in ſight of his miſtreſs, he ſhould have conſidered, that however agreeable the metamorphoſis might be to him, it could not be ſo to her, to look upon ſuch a loathſome object.
WAS born at Chiſgrove, in the pariſh of Tyſ⯑bury in Wiltſhire, being the ſon of a wealthy tanner of that place. At fifteen years of age he be⯑came a Commoner in Queen's-college, Oxford 1585, where having made preat progreſs in academical learning, and taken the degree of Batchelor of arts, he removed to the Middle-Temple, and applying himſelf to the ſtudy of the common law, was called to the bar; but having a quarrel with one Richard Martyn, (afterwards recorder of London) he baſti⯑nadoed him in the Temple-hall at dinner-time, in preſence of the whole aſſembly, for which con⯑tempt, he was immediately expelled, and retired a⯑gain to Oxford to proſecute his ſtudies, but did not reſume the ſcholar's gown. Upon this occaſion he compoſed that excellent poem called Noſce Teip⯑ſum*. Afterwards by the favour of Thomas lord Elleſmere, keeper of the Great Seal, being reinſta⯑ted in the Temple, he practiſed as a counſellor, and became a burgeſs in the Parliament held at Weſtminſter 1601. Upon the death of Queen Eli⯑zabeth our author, with Lord Hunſdon, went into Scotland to congratulate King James on his ſuc⯑ceſſion to the Engliſh throne. Being introduced in⯑to his Majeſty's preſence, the King enquired of Lord Hunſdon, the names of the gentlemen who accompanied him, and when his lordſhip men⯑tioned John Davies, the King preſently aſked whe⯑ther he was Noſce Teipſum, and being anſwered he was, embraced him, and aſſured him of [168] his favour. He was accordingly made Sollicitor, and a little after Attorney-general in Ireland, where in the year 1606, he was made one of his Majeſty's ſerjeants at law, and Speaker of the Houſe of Com⯑mons for that kingdom. In the year following, he received the honour of knighthood from the King at Whitehall. In 1612 he quitted the poſt of Attorney-general in Ireland, and was made one of his Majeſty's Engliſh ſerjeants at law. He married Eleanor Touchet, youngeſt daughter of George lord Audley, by whom he had a ſon an idiot who died young, and a daughter named Lucy, married to Ferdinand lord Haſtings, and afterwards Earl of Huntingdon. His lady was a woman of very extraordinary character; ſhe had, or rather pretended to have a ſpirit of prophecy, and her predictions received from a voice which ſhe often heard, were generally wrapped up in dark and obſcure expreſſions. It was commonly reported, that on the ſunday before her husband's death, ſhe was ſitting at dinner with him, ſhe ſuddenly burſt into tears, whereupon he asking her the occaſion, ſhe anſwered, ‘"Husband, theſe are your funeral tears,"’ to which he replied,‘"Pray therefore ſpare your tears now, and I will be content that you ſhall laugh when I am dead."’ After Sir John's death ſhe lived privately at Parſton in Hertfordſhire, and an account was publiſhed of her ſtrange and wonderful prophecies in 1609.
In 1626 Sir John was appointed lord chief juſtice of the King's-bench, but before the cere⯑mony of his inſtallation could be performed he died ſuddenly of an apoplexy in the fifty-ſeventh year of his age, and was buried in the church of St. Martin's in the Fields. He enjoyed the joint applauſes of Camden, Ben Johnſon, Sir John Har⯑rington, Selden, Donne, and Corbet; theſe are great authorities in our author's favour, and I may fairly aſſert that no philoſophical writers ever ex⯑plained [169] their ideas more clearly and familiarl [...] in proſe, or more harmoniouſly and beautifully in verſe. There is a peculiar happineſs in his ſuni⯑lies being introduced more to illuſtrate than adorn, which renders them as uſeful as entertaining, and diſtinguiſhes them from any other author.
In quality of a lawyer Sir John produced the following pieces:
His principal performance as a poet, is a Poem on the Original, Nature, and Immortality of the Soul, dedicated to Queen Elizabeth. It was re⯑publiſhed by Nahum Tate, 1714, addreſſed to the Earl of Dorſet and Middleſex, who was a great ad⯑mirer of our poet, and the editor gives it a very juſt and advantageous character. Without doubt it is the Noſce Teipſum ſo much admired by King James, printed 1599, and 1622, mentioned by Wood; to which were added by the ſame hand:
Hymns of Aſtrea in acroſtic verſe; and Orcheſtra, or a poem expreſſing the antiquity and excellency of dancing, in a dialogue, between Penelope and one of her Woers, containing 131 ſtanzas unfiniſhed. Mr. Wood mentions alſo epigrams, and a tranſlation of ſeveral of King David's Pſalms, written by Sir John Davies, but never publiſhed.
A Gentleman who flouriſhed in the reign of King James I. He was born in Eſſex, to⯑wards the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, a⯑bout the year 1592. In his youth he was ſent to Weſtminſter-ſchool, and at the age of eighteen, he was entered ſtudent of Chriſt's-college in Oxford*. Being an induſtrious ſcholar, ſays Langbaine, he ar⯑rived [171] to be a good poet, a skilful orator, and an ex⯑cellent preacher. In the year 1623 he was made batchelor of divinity, and preferred to a living in Surry called Eaſt-Clanden: there he married a wife who proved as great a plague to him as a ſhrew could be; ſhe was a true Xantippe to our eccleſiaſtical Socrates, and gave him daily opportunities of put⯑ing his patience to the proof; and it is believed by ſome, that this domeſtic ſcourge ſhortened his days. He was buried at his own pariſh church at Clan⯑den, the 27th of July, 1627. He writ ſeveral pieces on different ſubjects, amongſt which are rec⯑koned five plays.
The plot is founded on the Turkiſh hiſtory in the reign of Selinus I.
Mr. Philips and Mr. Winſtanley have aſcribed a comedy to this author, called Cupid's Whirli⯑gig, tho' Democritus and Heraclitus were not more different in their temper, than his genius was oppoſite to comedy, beſides the true author was one Mr. E. S. who in his dedicatory epiſtle ſays, ‘'That being long pregnant with deſire to bring forth ſomething, and being afterwards brought to bed, had choſe his friend Mr Robert Hayman to be godfather, not doubting but his child would be well maintained, ſeeing he could not live above an hour with him; and therefore he entreated him when he was dead, that he might be buried deep enough in his good opinion, and that he might deſerve this epitaph;'’
The reaſon of my making this digreſſion, is to ſhew, that ſuch ridiculous unmeaning mirth, is not likely to have fallen from Mr. Goff, as he was a grave man, and nothing but what was manly droped from his pen. In the latter part of his life he forſook the ſtage for the pulpit, and inſtead of plays writ ſermons, ſome of which appeared in print in the year 1627. To theſe works may be added his Latin funeral oration, at the divi⯑nity ſchool, at the obſequies of Sir Henry Saville, printed in 4to, Oxon 1622; another in Chriſt's⯑church [173] cathedral, at the funeral of Dr. Good⯑win, canon of that church, printed in London 1627.
SPRUNG from an honourable family in War⯑wickſhire; he was educated both at Oxford and Cambridge, and introduced to court by an uncle in the ſervice of Queen Elizabeth, who received him into her favour, which he had the happineſs to preſerve uninterupted to her death. At the coronation of James I. he was created Knight of the Bath, and ſoon after obtained a grant of the ruinous caſtle of Warwick. He was next appointed ſub-treaſurer, chancellor of the Exchequer, and privy counſellor, and then ad⯑vanced to the degree of a baron, by the title of lord Brooke of Beauchamps-court, and one of the lords of the bed-chamber to his Majeſty, This noble author was the friend of Sir Philip Sidney, than which a greater compliment cannot be beſtow⯑ed. As he was a poet and a man of wit he was held in the higheſt eſteem in that courtly age; but he added to genius, a gallantry of ſpi⯑rit, and was as fine a ſoldier as a writer. Win⯑ſtanley gives an inſtance of his proweſs in arms. ‘"At the time (ſays he) when the French ambaſ⯑ſador came over to England to negotiate a mar⯑riage between the duke of Anjou, and Queen Elizabeth, for the better entertainment of the court, ſolemn juſts were proclaimed, where the Earl of Arundel, Frederick lord Windſor, Sir Philip [174] Sidney, and he, were chief challengers againſt all comers; in which challenge he behaved himſelf ſo gallantly, that he won the reputa⯑tion of a moſt valiant knight. Thus you ſee that tho' eaſe be the nurſe of poetry, the Mu⯑ſes are alſo companions to Mars, as may be exemplified in the characters of the Earl of Surry, Sir Philip Sidney, and Sir Fulk Gre⯑ville."’
As our Author loved and admired the ladies, it is ſomewhat extraordinary, that he died a batchelor; for in all that courtly age, he could not find one on whom to confer the valuable prize of his heart. As he was himſelf a learned man, and poſſeſſed a variety of knowledge, ſo he pa⯑tronized many neceſſitous candidates for fame, but particularly Camden, whom he cauſed by his intereſt to be made King at Arms. He wa [...] likewiſe very liberal to Mr. Speed the ce⯑lebrated chron [...]loger: finding him a man of ex⯑tenſive knowledge, and his occupation and cir⯑cumſtances mean, ſo that his genius was depreſ⯑ſed by poverty, he enabled him to proſecute his ſtudies, and purſue the bent of his genius with⯑out being obliged to drudge at a manual em⯑ployment for his bread. Speed in his deſcription of Warwickſhire writes thus of lord Brook, ‘"Whoſe merit (ſays he) towards me I do acknowledge, in ſetting my hand free from the daily em⯑ployments of a manual trade, and giving it full liberty thus to expreſs the inclination of mind, himſelf being the procurer of my preſent eſtate."’ He paſſed thro' life in a calm of proſperity and honour, beloved by his equals, reverenced by his inferiors, and a favourite at court; but when he was about ſeventy years of age, this life of undiſ⯑turbed tranquility, was ſacrificed to the reſent⯑ment of a villain, and a cataſtrophe of the moſt tragical kind cloſed the days of this worthy man.
[175] One Haywood, who had been many years in his ſervice, and had behaved with fidelity and honour, expoſtulated with him freely (while they were a⯑lone) for his not having received a due reward for his ſervices. His lordſhip enraged at his pre⯑ſumption, and giving way to his paſſion, repri⯑manded him very ſeverely for his inſolence; for which the villain being now wrought up to the higheſt degree of fury, took an opportunity to ſtab him with his dagger through the back into the vi⯑tals, of which wound he inſtantly died, Septem⯑ber 30, 1628.
The murderer then ſtruck with remorſe, hor⯑ror and deſpair, and all the natural attendants of his guilt, retired to his chamber, and having ſe⯑cured the door, fell upon the ſame weapon with which he had aſſaſſinated his maſter, and an⯑ticipated on himſelf the juſtice reſerved for the hand of an executioner. Lord Brooke was interred in Warwickſhire, under a monument of black and white marble, * whereon he is ſtiled, Servant to Queen Elizabeth, Counſellor to King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sidney.
His works are chiefly theſe, viz.
His lordſhip has other pieces aſcribed to him beſides thoſe publiſhed under his name, The Life of Sir Philip Sidney, printed at the be⯑ginning of the Arcadia. His Remains, or Poems of Monarchy and Religion, printed in 8vo. Lon⯑don 1670. Philips and Winſtanley aſcribe a play to him, called Marcus Tullius Cicero, but this is without foundation, for that play was not written, at leaſt not printed, 'till long after his lordſhip's death. Having now given ſome account of his works. I ſhall ſum up his character in the words of Mrs. Cooper, in her Muſes Library, as it is not eaſy to do it to better advantage.
[177] ‘"I don't know (ſays ſhe) whether a woman may be acquitted for endeavouring to ſum up a cha⯑racter ſo various and important as his lordſhip's; but if the attempt can be excuſed, I don't de⯑ſire to have it paſs for a deciſive ſentence. Perhaps few men that dealt in poetry had more learning, or real wiſdom than this noble⯑man, and yet his ſtile is ſometimes ſo dark and myſterious, that one would imagine he choſe rather to conceal, than illuſtrate his mean⯑ing. At other times his wit breaks out again with an uncommon brightneſs, and ſhines, I'd almoſt ſaid, without an equal. It is the ſame thing with his poetry, ſometimes ſo harſh and uncouth as if he had no ear for muſic, at o⯑thers, ſo ſmooth and harmonious, as if he was maſter of all its powers."’ The piece from which I ſhall quote ſome lines, is entitled,
THIS author lived in the reign of King James I. and was ſome time ſtudent in Caius College in Cambridge. No particulars are preſer⯑ved concerning this poet, but that he had connection with other poets of ſome name, and wrote the fol⯑lowing plays:
When our author died cannot be juſtly aſcertained, but Mr. Lang⯑baine has preſerved an elegy written on him, by his friend Mr. Tateham, which begins thus;
In this manner he runs on: like a gentleman in Lincolns Inn, who wrote an ingenious poem upon the tranſactions between a Landlord and his Tenant Day, who privately departed from him by Night, printed in a ſingle ſheet, London, 1684. To ſhew the parallel, the following lines are ſufficient.
WAS deſcended of an ancient family in Devon⯑ſhire, which was ſeated in that county before the conqueſt*, and was fourth ſon of Walter Raleigh, eſquire, of Fards, in the pariſh of Cornwood. He was born in the year 1552 at Hayes, a pleaſant farm of his father's in the pariſh of Budley, in that part of Devonſhire bordering Eaſtward upon the Sea, near where the Ottery diſcharges itſelf into the Britiſh Channel; he was educated at the uni⯑verſity of Oxford, where, according to Dr. Ful⯑ler, he became a commoner of Oriel College, as well as Chriſt Church, and diſplayed in his early years a great vivacity of genius in his applica⯑tion to his ſtudies. Some have ſaid, that after leaving the univerſity, he ſettled himſelf in the Middle-Temple, and ſtudied the law, but this opinion muſt be erroneous, ſince he declares after⯑wards on his trial, that he never read a word of law 'till he was priſoner in the Tower. In 1569, when he was not above 17 years of age, he was one of the ſelect troop of a hundred gentlemen voluntiers, whom Queen Elizabeth permitted Hen⯑ry Champernon to tranſport into France, for the aſſiſtance of proteſtant Princes there‡, but of what ſervice they were, or what was the conſequence of the expedition, we have no account. So great a ſcene of action as the whole kingdom of France was at that period, gave Raleigh an opportunity of acquiring experience, and reading characters, as well as improving himſelf in the knowledge of languages and manners, and his own Hiſtory of the World contains ſome remarks which he [181] then made of the conduct of ſome great generals there, of which he had himſelf been witneſs. Af⯑ter our author's return from France, he embarked in an expedition to the northern parts of Ameri⯑ca, with Sir Humphry Gilbert, his brother by the mother's ſide, that gentleman having obtained the Queen's Patent to plant and inhabit ſuch parts of it as were unpoſſeſſed by any Prince with whom ſhe was in alliance; but this attempt proved un⯑ſucceſsful by means of the diviſion which aroſe amongſt the Voluntiers. The next year, 1580, up⯑on the deſcent of the Spaniſh and Italian forces in Ireland under the Pope's banner, for the ſup⯑port of the Deſmonds in their rebellion in Mun⯑ſter, he had a captain's commiſſion under the lord Grey of Wilton, to whom at that time the famous Spenſer was ſecretary; but the chief ſervices which captain Raleigh performed, were under Thomas earl of Ormond, governor of Munſter. He ſur⯑prized the Iriſh Kerns at Ramile, and having in⯑cloſed them, took every rebel upon the ſpot, who did not fall in the conflict. Among the priſoners there was one laden with Withies, who being asked, what he intended to have done with them? boldly anſwered, to have hung up the Engliſh Churles; upon which Raleigh ordered him to be immediately diſpatched in that manner, and the reſt of the robbers and murderers to be puniſhed according to their deſerts*. The earl of Or⯑mond departing for England in the ſpring of the year 1581, his government of Munſter was given to captain Raleigh; in which he behaved with great vigilance and honour, he fought the Arch rebel Barry at Clove, whom he charged with the utmoſt bravery, and after a hard ſtruggle, put to flight. In the month of Auguſt, 1581, captain John Gouch being appointed Governour of Mun⯑ſter [182] by the Lord Deputy, Raleigh attended him in ſeveral journies to ſettle and compoſe that country; but the chief place of their reſidence was Cork, and after Gouch had cut off Sir John Deſmond, brother to the earl of Deſmond, who was at the head of the rebellion, he left the government of that city to Raleigh‖, whoſe com⯑pany being not long after disbanded upon the reduction of that earl, the ſlaughter of his bro⯑ther, and the ſubmiſſion of Barry, he returned to England. The Lord Deputy Grey having reſign⯑ed the ſword in Ireland towards the end of Au⯑guſt, 1582, the diſpute between him and Raleigh, upon reaſons which are variouſly aſſigned by diffe⯑rent writers, was brought to a hearing before the council table in England, where the latter ſupport⯑ed his cauſe with ſuch abilities as procured him the good opinion both of her Majeſty, and the Lords of the Council, and this, added to the patro⯑nage of the earl of Leiceſter, is ſuppoſed to be one conſiderable occaſion of his preferment, though it did not immediately take place, nor could the hopes of it reſtrain him from a ſe⯑cond expedition with his brother Sir Humphry Gilbert to Newfoundland, for which he built a ſhip of 200 tons called The Bark Raleigh, and furniſhed it compleatly for the voyage, in which he reſolved to attend his brother as his Vice-Ad⯑miral. That fleet departed from Plymouth the 11th of June, 1583, but after it had been two or three days at ſea, a contagious diſtemper having ſeized the whole crew of Raleigh's ſhip, obliged him to return to that port; however by this acci⯑dent, he eſcaped the misfortune of that expediti⯑on; for after Sir Humphry had taken poſſeſſion of Newfoundland, in the right of the crown of Eng⯑land, and aſſigned lands to every man of his com⯑pany, [183] and ſailed three hundred leagues in the voyage home with full hopes of the Queen's aſ⯑ſiſtance to fit out a fleet next year, he unfortu⯑nately periſhed; for venturing raſhly in a frigate of but ten tons, he was on the ninth of Septem⯑ber that year at midnight ſwallowed up in an high ſea, another veſſel ſuffered the ſame fate, and even the reſt returned not without great hazard and loſs‖: but this ill ſucceſs could not divert Raleigh from purſuing a ſcheme of ſuch impor⯑tance to his country as thoſe diſcoveries in North America. He drew up an account of the advan⯑tage of ſuch a deſign, and the means of proſe⯑cuting it, which he laid before the Queen and Council, who were ſo well ſatisfied with the pro⯑bability of ſucceſs, that on the 25th of March, 1584, her Majeſty granted him letters patent, in favour of his project, containing free liberty to diſcover ſuch remote heathen and barbarous lands, as were not actually poſſeſſed by any Chiſtian prince, nor inhabited by Chriſtian people. Immediately upon this grant, Raleigh choſe two able and experienced captains, and furniſhed them with two veſſels fitted out at his own expence, with ſuch expedition that on the 27th of April following they ſet ſail for the Weſt of England, taking their courſe by the Canary Iſlands, where they arrived on the 10th of May, towards the Weſt Indies; and that being in thoſe days the beſt and moſt frequented rout to America, they paſſed by the Carribbe Iſlands in the beginning of June, and reached the Gulph of Florida on the 2d of July, ſailing along the ſhore about one hundred and twenty miles before they could find a convenient harbour. At laſt they debarked in a very low land, which proved to be an iſland called Wohoken; and after taking for⯑mal [184] poſſeſſion of the country, they carried on a friendly correſpondence with the native Indians, who ſupplied them with a great variety of fiſh and veniſon, and gave them furs, and deerſkins in exchange for trifles. Thus encouraged by the na⯑tives, eight of the company in a boat, went up the river Occam twenty miles, and next day in the evening they came to an iſland called Roanah, which was but ſeven leagues from the place where their ſhips lay. Here they found the reſidence of the Indian chief, whoſe name was Grangamineo, whoſe houſe conſiſted of nine apartments built of Cedar, fortified round with ſharp pieces of tim⯑ber: His wife came out to them, and ordered the people to carry them from the boat on their backs, and ſhewed them many other civilities. They con⯑tinued their intercourſe with the natives for ſome time, ſtill viewing the ſituation of the adjacent country, and after having obtained the beſt infor⯑mation they could of the number and ſtrength of the Indian nations in that neighbourhood, and of their connexions, alliances, or conteſts with each other, they returned about the middle of Septem⯑ber to England, and made ſuch an advantageous report of the fertility of the ſoil, and healthineſs of the climate, that the Queen favoured the de⯑ſign of ſettling a colony in that country, to which ſhe was pleaſed to give the name of Virginia‖.
About two months after, Raleigh was choſen Knight of the Shire for his county of Devon, and made a conſiderable figure in parliament, where a bill paſſed in confirmation of his patent for the diſcovery of foreign countries. During the courſe of this ſeſſions, he received the honour of knight⯑hood from her Majeſty, a diſtinction the more honourable to him, as the Queen was extream⯑ly cautious in confering titles; and beſides the [185] patent for diſcoveries, ſhe granted him, about the ſame time, a power to licenſe the vending of wines through⯑out the kingdom, which was in all probability ve⯑ry lucrative to him; but it engaged him in a diſpute with the univerſity of Cambridge, which had oppoſed one Keymer, whom he had licenſed to ſell wine there, contrary to the privileges of that univerſity.
The parliament being prorogued, Raleigh, in⯑tent upon planting his new colony in Virginia, ſet out his own fleet of ſeven ſail for that country, un⯑der the command of his couſin Sir Richard Green⯑ville, who after having viſited the country, left behind him an hundred and ſeven perſons to ſettle a colony at Roanah; in his return to England, he took a Spaniſh prize worth 50000l. but this was not the only circumſtance of good fortune which hap⯑pened to Raleigh this year; for the rebellion in Ireland being now ſuppreſſed, and the forfeited lands divided into Signiories, among thoſe principally who had been inſtrumental in the important ſervice of reducing that country; her Majeſty granted him one of the largeſt portions, conſiſting of twelve thouſand acres in the counties of Cork and Waterford, with certain privileges and immunities, upon condition, of planting and improving the ſame, to which the other grantees were obliged.
In the year 1586 we find our author ſo highly advanced in the Queen's favour, ſo extremely po⯑pular on account of his patronage of learned men, and the active ſpirit he exerted in buſineſs, that her Majeſty made him ſeneſchal in the dutchy of Corn⯑wall. But theſe diſtinctions incurred the uſual ef⯑fects of court preferment, and expoſed Sir Walter to the envy of thoſe who were much inferior to him in merit; and even the earl of Leiceſter himſelf, who had formerly been his great patron, became jealous of him, and ſet up in oppoſition to him, his nephew the young earl of Eſſex. The Come⯑dians likewiſe took the liberty to reflect upon Ra⯑leigh's [186] power, and influence upon the Queen; which her Majeſty reſented ſo highly as to forbid Tarleton, the moſt celebrated actor of that age, from approach⯑ing her preſence.
Raleigh, ſollicitous for the proſperity of the plan⯑tation in Virginia, ſent out new ſupplies from time to time, ſome of whom were obliged to return home; and the general alarm ſpread over the nation on ac⯑count of the Spaniſh invaſion, threw all things into diſorder.
About the beginning of the year 1587 he was raiſed to the dignity of captain of her majeſty's guard, which he held together with the place of lord-war⯑den of the Stannaries, and lieutenant-general of the county of Cornwall. From this time till the year 1594, we find Sir Walter continually engaged in pro⯑jecting new expeditions, ſending ſuccours to colonies abroad, or managing affairs in Parliament with con⯑ſummate addreſs.
In the year 1593, we find Father Parſons the jeſuit charging him with no leſs a crime than atheiſm, and that he had founded a ſchool in which he taught atheiſtical principles, and had made a great many young gentlemen converts to them; the moſt conſiderable authority to countenance the ſuſ⯑picions of Sir Walter's religion, is that of Archbiſhop Abbot, who in a letter dated at Lambeth, addreſſed to Sir Thomas Roe, then an ambaſſador at the Mo⯑gul's court, expreſsly charges Sir Walter with doubting God's being and omnipotence*; but it is highly probable Sir Walter's opinions might be miſrepreſented by his enemies, or wrong concluſi⯑ons drawn from thoſe which he maintained; and it would be a ſhocking injuſtice to the memory of ſo great a man to ſuſpect him of irreligion, whoſe writings contain not the leaſt trace of it, and whoſe Hiſtory of the World in particular breathes a ſtrong ſpirit of real and genuine piety.
In the heighth of his favour with the Queen, he fell un⯑der [187] her majeſty's diſpleaſure, for being enamoured of Mrs. Elizabeth Throgmorton, one of the Queen's maids of honour, whom he debauched; and ſuch it ſeems was the chaſtity of theſe times, that a frailty of that ſort was looked upon as the higheſt offence Her Majeſty was ſo exaſperated, that ſhe command⯑ed him to be confined ſeveral months, and after his enlargement forbid him the court, whence the poor lady was likewiſe diſmiſſed from her attendance about the maiden queen, who appeared in this caſe the champion of virginity. Sir Walter ſoon made her an honourable reparation by marriage, and they were both examples of conjugal affection and fidelity. During the time our author continued under her ma⯑jeſty's diſpleaſure for this offence, he projected the diſcovery of the rich and extenſive empire of Gui⯑ana, in the ſouth of America, which the Spaniards had then viſited, and to that day had never conquered. For this purpoſe, having collected informations re⯑lating to it, he ſent an old officer to take a view of the coaſt, who returned the year following with a very favourable account of the riches of the country, which he had received from ſome of the principal Caſſiques upon the borders of it. This determined Raleigh's reſolution, who provided a ſquadron of ſhips at a very great expence, and the lord high admiral Howard, and Sir Robert Cecil con⯑ceived ſo good an opinion of the deſign, that both concurred in it. He perſonally engaged in the at⯑tempt, and with no great number of ſhips ſo far explor⯑ed the unknown country, that he made greater progreſs in a few months than the Spaniards had done for many years, and having ſatisfied himſelf of the certainty of the gold mines of the country, he returned home with honour and riches the latter end of the ſummer 1595, and in the year following publiſhed in quarto An Account of the Voyage and Diſcoveries, dedicated to lord admiral Howard and Sir Robert Cecil.
The next year Sir Walter was ſo far reſtored to [188] the Queen's favour, that he was engaged in the im⯑portant and ſucceſsful expedition to [...]adiz, in which the earl of Eſſex and lord admiral Howard were joint commanders, and Raleigh of the council of war, and one of the admirals In this, as in all his other expeditions, he behaved with equal con⯑duct and courage. After his return from the ſucceſs⯑ful expedition under the earl of Eſſex, he promoted a reconciliation between that nobleman and ſecretary Cecil, in conſequence of which he was himſelf fully reinſtated in the Queen's ſavour, and had the com⯑mand of captain of the guard reſtored to him with other marks of her forgiveneſs.
In 1597 he was employed in the iſland voyage as rear admiral, the earl of Eſſex having the chief command, and the lord Thomas Howard the poſt of vice-admiral. The deſign of it was to defeat and deſtroy at Ferol, as well as in the other ports of the enemy, the Spaniſh flee [...] intended for a new expedi⯑tion againſt England and Ireland; and to ſeize up⯑on ſuch Indian fleets of treaſure, as they ſhould meet with belonging to the king of Spain; to con⯑quer, reſtrain, and garriſon, moſt of the Iſles of the Azores, and eſpecially the Terceras. But the ſucceſs of this expedition did not an [...]wer the great⯑neſs of the preparations for it; the jealouſy of the earl of Eſſex the commander, obſtructing the ſervices which Sir Walter's abilities might otherwiſe have performed. In the council of war, which was held before the iſle of Flores, it was reſolved that the general and Sir Walter ſhould jointly attack the iſland of Fyal; where the latter waited ſeven days for his lordſhip, and hearing nothing of him, cal⯑led a council of war, in which it was determined that Raleigh ſhould attempt the town himſelf, which he did with aſtoniſhing bravery and ſucceſs. Eſſex finding himſelf deprived of the honour of taking Fyal, was exaſperated to ſuch a degree, that he broke ſome of the officers who had behaved with great [189] gallantry under Raleigh, and ſome of his ſyco⯑phants alledged that Raleigh himſelf deſerved to loſe his head for breach of articles in landing without his lordſhips orders. Upon their return to England the earl endeavoured to transfer the miſcarriages of the expedition upon Raleigh, and gained to his ſide the populace, whom Sir Walter never courted, and whoſe patronage he ſcorned; but the Queen herſelf was not well pleaſed with the earl's conduct, ſince it was judged he might have done more than he did; and his proceedings againſt Sir Walter in calling his actions to public queſtion, were highly diſapproved*.
The next important tranſaction we find Raleigh engaged in, was in 1601, when the unfortunate earl of Eſſex, who had calumniated him to the king of Scotland, and endeavoured all he could to ſhake his intereſt, was ſo ill adviſed by his creatures, as to at⯑tempt a public inſurrection. Raleigh was active in ſuppreſſing it: the earl pretended that the cauſe of his taking arms was to defend himſelf againſt the violence of his perſonal enemies, the lord Cobham and Raleigh having formed a deſign of murdering him; tho' on the other hand it is pretty certain, that Sir Ferdinand Gorges, one of the earl's accomplices, afterwards accuſed Sir Chriſtopher Blount, another of them, for perſuading him to kill, or at leaſt ap⯑prehend, Sir Walter; which Gorges refuſing, Blount diſcharged four ſhots after him in a boat. Blount acknowledged this, and at the time of his execution aſked Sir Walter forgiveneſs for it; which he readily granted,—While the earl gariſoned his houſe, Sir Walter was one of thoſe who inveſted it, and when his lordſhip was brought to his trial, he with forty of the queen's guard was preſent upon duty, and was likewiſe examined with relation to a confe⯑rence which he had upon the Thames the morning of [190] the inſurrection with Sir Ferdinando Gorges. At the execution of Eſſex, ſix days after, in the Tower, Raleigh attended, probably in his character of cap⯑tain of the guard, and ſtood near the ſcaffold that he might the better anſwer if Eſſex ſhould be deſirous of ſpeaking to him, but retired before the earl's execution, becauſe the people ſeemed to take his appearance there in a wrong light; tho' he afterwards repented of it, as the earl expreſſed an inclination to ſee and ſpeak with him before his death, which was in all probability to have aſked Raleigh's forgiveneſs for having traduced, and ca⯑lumniated him in order to colour his own raſh deſigns.
In 1602 our author ſold his eſtate in Ireland, to Mr. Boyle, afterwards earl of Cork, and about Mid⯑ſummer he ſettled his eſtate of Sherbone on his ſon Walter, on account of a challenge which he had re⯑ceived from Sir Amias Preſton, who had been knighted at Cadiz by the earl of Eſſex; which challenge Sir Walter intended to accept, and there⯑fore diſpoſed his affairs in proper order. The cauſe of their quarrel does not appear, but they were af⯑terwards reconciled without proceeding to a duel*.
The death of Queen Elizabeth on the 24th of March 1602-3 proved a great misfortune to Ra⯑leigh; James her ſucceſſor having been prejudiced againſt him by the earl of Eſſex, who inſinuated that Raleigh was no friend to his ſucceſſion, nor had any regard for his family. And theſe prejudices were heightened by ſecretary Cecil in his private correſ⯑pondence with that puſilanimous, jealous prince, be⯑fore he aſcended the Throne of England, or at leaſt immediately upon that event; for tho' Raleigh and Cecil had united againſt Eſſex, yet after the ruin of that earl and his party, their ſeeming friendſhip terminated in a mutual ſtruggle for a ſuperiority of [191] power. But there is another important cauſe of James's diſguſt to Sir Walter, which is, that he, lord Cobham, and Sir John Forteſcue, would have ob⯑liged the king to articles before he was admitted to the throne, and that the number of his countrymen ſhould be limitted; which added to the circumſtance of Sir Walter's zeal to take off his mother, inſpired his majeſty with a confirmed averſion to him; and indeed the tragical end of the queen of Scots is, per⯑haps, the greateſt error with which the annals of that glorious reign is ſtained. Raleigh in vain endeavour⯑ed to gain the affection of the new king, which he attempted by transfering on ſecretary Cecil the blood of the earl of Eſſex, as well as that of his royal mo⯑ther; but this attempt to ſecure the affections of a weak prince, ended in his ruin, for it ex⯑aſperated Cecil the more againſt him; and as Sir Walter was of an active martial genius, the king, who was a lover of peace, and a natural coward, was affraid that ſo military a man would involve him in a war, which he hated above all things in the world. Our author was ſoon removed from his com⯑mand as captain of the guard, which was beſtowed upon Sir Thomas Erſkin, his majeſty's favourite as well as countryman*, the predeceſſor to the earl of Mar, whoſe actions, performed in the year 1715, are recent in every one's memory.
Not long after his majeſty's aſcending the throne of England, Sir Walter was charged with a plot a⯑gainſt the king and royal family; but no clear e⯑vidence was ever produced that Raleigh had any concern in it. The plot was to have ſurprized the king and court, to have created commotions in Scot⯑land, animated the diſcontented in England, and ad⯑vanced Arabella Stuart, couſin to the king, to the throne. Arabella was the daughter of lord Charles Stuart, younger brother to Henry lord Darnly, and [192] ſon to the duke of Lenox. She was afterwards married to William Seymour, ſon to lord Beau⯑champ, and grandſon to the earl of Hertford; and both were confined for the preſumption of marrying without his majeſty's conſent, from which they made their eſcape, but were again retaken. Lady Arabella died of grief, and Mr. Seymour lived to be a great favourite with Charles I. Raleigh per⯑ſiſted in avowing his ignorance of the plot, and when he came to his trial, he behaved himſelf ſo pru⯑dently, and defended himſelf with ſo much force, that the minds of the people preſent, who were at firſt exaſperated againſt him, were turned from the ſevereſt hatred to the tendereſt pity. Notwith⯑ſtanding Sir Walter's proof that he was innocent of any ſuch plot, and that lord Cobham, who had once accuſed him had recanted, and ſigned his recantation, nor was produced againſt him face to face, a pack'd jury brought him in guilty of high treaſon. Sentence of death being pronounced againſt him, he humbly requeſted that the king might be made acquainted with the proofs upon which he was caſt. He accompanied the She⯑riff to priſon with wonderful magnanimity, tho' in a manner ſuited to his unhappy ſituation. Raleigh was kept near a month at Wincheſter in daily expec⯑tation of death, and in a very pathetic letter wrote his laſt words to his wife the night before he expec⯑ted to ſuffer*, in which he hoped his blood would quench their malice who had murdered him, and prayed God to forgive his perſecutors, and accuſers. The king ſigned the warrant for the execution of the lords Cobham and Grey, and Sir Griffin Markham, at Wincheſter, pretending, ſays lord Cecil, to for⯑bear Sir Walter for the preſent, till lord Cobham's death had given ſome light how far he would make good his accuſation. Markham was firſt brought [193] upon the ſcaffold, and when he was on his knees, ready to receive the blow of the ax, the groom of the bedchamber produced to the ſheriff his ma⯑jeſty's warrant to ſtop the execution; and Markham was told that he muſt withdraw a while into the hall to be confronted by the Lords. Then Lord Grey was brought forth, and having poured out his pray⯑ers and confeſſion, was likewiſe called aſide, and laſtly Lord Cobham was expoſed in the ſame manner, and performed his devotions, though we do not find that he ſaid one word of his guilt or innocence, or charged Raleigh with having inſti⯑gated him; all which circumſtances ſeem more than ſufficient to wipe off from the memory of Ra⯑leigh the leaſt ſuſpicion of any plot againſt James's perſon or government.
He was remanded to the Tower of London with the reſt of the priſoners, of whom Markham afterwards obtained his liberty, and travelled abroad. Lord Grey of Wilton died in the Tower; Lord Cobham was conſined there many years, during which, it is ſaid, he was examined by the King in re⯑lation to Raleigh, and entirely cleared him; he af⯑terwards died in the loweſt circumſtances of diſtreſs.
In February following a grant was made by the King of all the goods and chattels forfeited by Sir Walter's conviction to the truſtees of his appointing for the benefit of his creditors, la⯑dy and children. After 12 years confinement in the Tower, in March 1615 he was releaſed out of it, by the interpoſition of the favourite Buckingham; but before he quitted that place he ſaw the earl of Somerſet committed there for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, and afterwards condemned, which occaſioned Sir Walter to com⯑pare his own caſe with that of the carl's, and to remark, ‘'That the whole Hiſtory of the World had not the like precedent of a King's priſon⯑er to purchaſe freedom, and his boſom favourite [194] to have the halter, but in ſcripture, in the caſe of Mordecai and Haman;'’ on hearing which, the King is ſaid to have replied, that Raleigh might die in that deceit, which afterwards proved true, for the King pardoned the infamous Somer⯑ſet, a murderer, and executed Raleigh, a brave and an honeſt man, equally to the aſtoniſhment of the world. Sir Walter being now at large, had the means of proſecuting his old ſcheme of ſettling Guiana, which he had ſo much at heart, that even during his impriſonment, he held a con⯑ſtant correſpondence with that country, ſending thither every year, or every ſecond year, a ſhip, to keep the Indians in hopes of being relieved from the tyranny of the Spaniards, who had again en⯑croached upon them, and maſſacred many, both of the inhabitants and of Raleigh's men. In theſe ſhips were brought ſeveral natives of the country, with whom he converſed in the Tower, and obtained all poſſible informations concerning it. Upon ſuch in⯑formations he offered his ſcheme for proſecuting his diſcovery to the court before he undertook it in per⯑ſon: nor were there any doubts either as to the improbability of the deſign, or its unlawfulneſs, notwithſtanding the peace made with Spain, other⯑wiſe the King would not have made ſuch grants as he did, even at that time, which ſhews that he was then convinced, that Sir Walter had in his firſt voyage diſcovered and taken poſſeſſion of that coun⯑try for the crown of England, and conſequently that his ſubjects were juſtly intitled to any bene⯑fits that might ariſe from its diſcovery, without the leaſt reſpect to the pretenſions of the Spa⯑niards: Beſides, when Sir Walter firſt moved the court upon this ſubject, the Spaniſh match was not thought of, and the King's neceſſities being then very preſſing, he may be preſumed to have conceived great hopes from that diſcovery, though he might afterwards change his opinion, [195] when he grew ſo unreaſonably fond of that match.
In 1616 he obtained a royal commiſſion to ſettle Guiana at the expence of himſelf and his friends; he was appointed General, and Commander in Chief of this enterprize, and Governor of the new country, which he was to ſettle with ample authority; a power was granted him too, of exer⯑ciſing martial law in ſuch a manner as the King's Lieutenant General by ſea or land, or any Lieu⯑tenants of the counties of England had. Theſe powers ſeem to imply a virtual pardon to Raleigh, and perhaps made him leſs ſolicitous for an actual one. Meantime Gondemar the Spaniſh ambaſſa⯑dor, by his addreſs, vivacity, and flattering the humours of James, had gained a great aſcendency over him, and began to make a great clamour a⯑bout Raleigh's preparations, and from that mo⯑ment formed ſchemes of deſtroying him. The whole expence of this expedition was defrayed by Raleigh and his friends; the fleet conſiſted of about ſeven ſail. On the 17th of November, 1617, they came in ſight of Guiana, and ſoon after to an⯑chor, in five degrees off the river Caliana, where they remained till the 4th of December. Raleigh was received with great joy by the Indians, who not only aſſiſted him with proviſions, and every thing elſe in their power, but offered him the ſo⯑vereignty of their country if he would ſettle a⯑mongſt them, which he declined to accept*. His extreme ſickneſs for ſix weeks prevented him from undertaking the diſcovery of the mines in perſon, and was obliged to depute captain Keymis to that ſervice; and accordingly on the 4th of December, ordered five ſmall ſhips to ſail into the river Oro⯑noque. When they landed, they found a Spaniſh garriſon between them and the mine, which ſally⯑ing out unexpectedly, put them in confuſion, and [196] gave them lattle. In this conflict young Raleigh was killed, and by a fatal miſtake, captain Keymis did not prove the mine, but burnt and plundered the Spaniſh garriſon, and found amongſt the gover⯑nor's papers one, which informed him, that Raleigh's expedition had been betrayed, and that he was to be ſacrificed to the Spaniards. Upon Keymis's un⯑ſucceſsful attempt, Raleigh ſharply rebuked him for his miſtake, and a deviation from his orders, which ſo much affected that capta [...]n, that he ſhot himſelf in his own cabbin, and finding the wound not mortal, he finiſhed his deſign by a long knife with which he ſtabbed himſelf to the heart. In this diſtreſsful ſituation Raleigh returned home, and found on his arrival at Plymouth, a declaration publiſhed againſt him; at which he took the alarm, and contrived to convey himſelf out of the kingdom in a veſſel hired for that purpoſe by an old officer of his; but changing his opinion in that reſpect, he proceeded in his journey to London.
Yet thinking it proper to gain time for the appeaſing his majeſty, by the aſſiſtance of one Man [...]uric a French quack, he counterfeited ſick⯑neſs for ſeveral days, during which he wrote his apology. However on the 7th of Auguſt he arriv⯑ed at London, where he was conſined in his own houſe; but having ſtill good reaſons not to truſt himſelf to the mercy of the court, he formed a de⯑ſign to eſcape into France, which Sir Lewis Stack⯑ley, who was privy to, and encouraged it, diſco⯑vered, and Sir Walter being ſeized in a beat upon the river below Woolwich, was a ſecond time, on the 10th of Auguſt, committed to the Tower; but tho' his death ſeemed abſolutely determined, yet it ſe [...]med difficult to find a method of accompliſhing it, ſince his conduct in the late expedition could not be ſtr [...]tched in law to ſuch a ſentence. It was re⯑ſolved therefore, to ſacrifice him to the reſentment of Spain, in a manner ſo ſhameful, that it has juſtly [197] expoſed the conduct of the court to the indignation of all ſucceeding ages, and tranſmitted the puſilla⯑nimous monarch with infamy to poſterity. They called him down to judgment upon his former ſen⯑tence paſſed fifteen years before, which they were not then aſhamed to execute. A privy ſeal was ſent to the judges to order immediate execution, on which a conference was held Friday the 24th of Oct. 1688, between all the judges of England, concerning the manner, how priſoners who have been attaint⯑ed of treaſon and ſet at liberty, ſhould be brought to execution. In conſequence of their reſolution, a privy ſeal came to the King's-Bench, commanding that court to proceed againſt Sir Walter according to law, who next day received notice of the coun⯑cil to prepare himſelf for death; and on Wedneſ⯑day the 28th of that month, at 8 o'clock in the morn⯑ing, was taken out of bed in the hot fit of an ague, and carried to the King's-Bench, Weſtminſter, where execution was awarded againſt him. The next morning, the 29th of October, the day of the lord⯑mayor's inauguration, a ſolemnity never perhaps at⯑tended before with a public execution, Sir Walter was conducted by the ſheriffs of Middleſex to the Old Palace Yard in Weſtminſter, where mounting the ſcaffold, he behaved with the moſt undaunted ſpirit, and ſeeming cheerfulneſs. The biſhop of Saliſbury (Tohon) being ſurprized at the hero's contempt of death, and expoſtulating with him up⯑on it; he told him plainly that he never feared death, and much leſs then, for which he bleſſed God, and as to the manner of it, tho' to others it might ſeem grievous, yet for himſelf he had rather die ſo than in a burning fever. This verifies the noble ob⯑ſervation of Shakeſpear, that all heroes have a con⯑tempt of death; which he puts in the mouth of Julius Caeſar when his friends diſſuaded him from going to the Senate-Houſe.
Sir Walter eat his breakfaſt that morning, ſmoak⯑ed his pipe, and made no more of death, than if he had been to take a journey. On the ſcaffold he converſed freely with the Earl of Arundel and others of the nobility, and vindicated himſelf from two ſuſpicions; the firſt, of entering into a confederacy with France; the ſecond, of ſpeaking diſloyally of his Majeſty. He cleared himſelf likewiſe of the ſuſpicion of having perſecuted the Earl of Eſſex, or of inſulting him at his death. He concluded with deſiring the good people to join with him in prayer, to that great God of Heaven, ‘"whom (ſays he) I have grievouſly offended, being a man full of vanity, who has lived a ſinful life, in ſuch callings as have been moſt inducing to it: For I have been a ſoldier, a ſailor, and a courtier; which are courſes of wickedneſs and vice."’ The proclamation being made that all men ſhould de⯑part the ſcaffold, he prepared himſelf for death, gave away his hat and cap, and money to ſome attendants that ſtood near him. When he took leave of the lords, and other gentlemen that ſtood near him. he entreated the Lord Arundel to prevail with the King, that no ſcandalous writings to defame him, ſhould be publiſhed after his death; concluding, ‘"I have a long journey to go, and therefore will take my leave."’ Then having put off his gown and doublet, he called to the executioner to ſhew him the axe, which not being preſently done; he ſaid, ‘"I pray thee let me ſee it; don't thou [199] think I am afraid of it;"’ and having it in his hands he felt along the edge of it, and ſmiling, ſaid to the ſheriff; ‘"This is a ſharp medicine, but it is a phyſician for all diſeaſes."’ The ex⯑ecutioner kneeling down and aſking him forgiveneſs, Sir Walter laying his hand upon his ſhoulder grant⯑ed it; and being asked which way he would lay himſelf on the block, he anſwered, ‘"So the heart be right, it is no matter which way the head lies."’ His head was ſtruck off at two blows, his body ne⯑ver ſhrinking nor moving. His head was ſhewn on each ſide of the ſcaffold, and then put into a red leather bag, and with his velvet night-gown thrown over, was afterwards conveyed away in a mourning coach of his lady's. His body was interred in the chancel of St. Margaret's Church, Weſtminſter, but his head was long preſerved in a caſe by his widow, who ſurvived him twenty-years.
Thus fell Sir Walter Raleigh in the 66th year of his age, a ſacrifice to a contemptible adminiſtration, and the reſentment of a mean prince: A man of ſo great abilities, that neither that nor the preceding reign produced his equal. His character was a combination of almoſt every eminent quality; he was the ſoldier, ſtateſmen, and ſcholar united, and had he lived with the heroes of antiquity, he would have made a juſt parallel to Caeſar, and Xenophon, like them being equal maſter of the ſword and the pen. One circumſtance muſt not be omitted, which in a life ſo full of action as his, is ſomewhat extraordinary, viz. that whe⯑ther he was on board his ſhips upon important and arduous expeditions, buſy in court tran⯑ſactions, or purſuing ſchemes of pleaſure, he ne⯑ver failed to dedicate at leaſt four hours every day to ſtudy, by which he became ſo much maſ⯑ter of all knowledge, and was enabled, as a poet beautifully expreſſes it, to enrich the world with [200] his priſon-hours†. As the ſentence of Raleigh blackens but his King, ſo his memory will be ever dear to the lovers of learning, and of their country: and tho' he makes not a very great fi⯑gure as a poet, having buſineſs of greater im⯑portance continually upon his hands; yet it would have been an unpardonable negligence to omit him, as he does honour to the liſt, and de⯑ſerves all the encomiums an honeſt mind can give, or the moſt maſterly pen beſtow; and it were to be wiſhed ſome man of eminent talents, whoſe genius is turned to biography, (of ſuch at preſent we are not deſtitute) would undertake the life of this hero, and by mixing pleaſing and natural re⯑flexions with the incidents, as they occur, not a little inſtruct and delight his countrymen; as Ra⯑leigh's life is the ampleſt field for ſuch an at⯑tempt to ſucceed in.
His works are,
I ſhall give a ſpecim [...] of Sir Walter's poetry in a piece called the Viſion of the Fairy Queen.
But the moſt extraordinary work of Sir Walter's is his Hiſtory of the World, compoſed in the Tower; it has never been without its admirers; and I ſhall cloſe the account of our author's works, by the ob⯑ſervation of the ingenious author of the Rambler upon this hiſtory, in a paper in which he treats of Engliſh Hiſtorians, No. 122.—‘"Raleigh (ſays he) is deſervedly celebrat [...]d for the labour of his reſearches, and the elegance of his ſtile; but he has endeavoured to exert his judgment more than his genius, to ſelect facts, rather than a⯑dorn them. He has produced a hiſtorical diſ⯑ſertation, but has ſeldom riſen to the majeſty of hiſtory."’
AN eminent poet, and divine of the laſt century, was born in London in the year 1573. His fa⯑ther was a merchant, deſcended from a very anci⯑ent family in Wales, and his mother from Sir Tho⯑mas More. Chancellor of England. He was educa⯑ted in his father's houſe under a tutor till the 11th year of his age, † when he was ſent to Oxford; at which time it was obſerved of him, as of the famous Pica Mirandula, that he was rather born wiſe than made ſo by ſtudy. He was admitted commoner of Harthall, together with his younger brother, in [203] Michaelmas term 1584*. By advice of his relati⯑ons, who were Roman Catholics, he declined tak⯑ing the oath tendered upon the occaſion of taking degrees. After he had ſtudied three years at the Univerſity, he removed to Cambridge, and from thence three years after to Lincoln's-Inn. About this time his father died, and left him a portion of 3000 l. He became ſoon diſtinguiſhed at Lincoln's-Inn, by his rapid progreſs in the law. He was now eighteen years of age, and as yet had attached him⯑ſelf to no particular denomination of Chriſtians, and as his relations were bigotted to the Romiſh faith, he was induced to examine the controverſy, and to em⯑brace publickly that which appeared to him to be beſt ſupported by the authority of the ſcrip⯑tures. He relinquiſhed the ſtudy of the law, and devoted himſelf entirely to that of the con⯑troverted points between the Proteſtants and Catho⯑lics, which ended in a thorough conviction of the truths of the reformed religion.
In the years 1596 and 1597 Mr. Donne attended the Earl of Eſſex in his expeditions againſt Cadiz and the Azores-Iſlands, and ſtayed ſome years in Italy and Spain, and ſoon after his return to Eng⯑land he was made ſecretary to lord chancellor Egerton. This probably was intended by his lordſhip only as an introduction to a more dignified place; for he frequently expreſſed a high opinion of his ſecretary's abilities; and when he afterwards, by the ſollicitation of his lady, parted with him, he obſerved that he was fitter to be a ſecretary to a Monarch than to him. When he was in the lord chancellor's family, he married pri⯑vately without the conſent of her father, the daughter of Sir George More, chancellor of the Garter, and lord lieutenant of the Tower, who ſo much reſented his daughter's marriage without his [204] conſent, that he procured our author's diſmiſſion from the chancellor's ſervice, and got him committed to priſon. Sir George's daughter lived in the lord chancellor's family, and was niece to his lady.
Upon Sir George's hearing that his daughter had engaged her heart to Donne, he removed her to his own houſe in Surry, and friends on both ſides endeavoured to weaken their affection for each other, but without ſucceſs; for having exchanged the moſt ſacred promiſes, they found means to con⯑ſummate a private marriage. Our author was not long in obtaining his liberty, but was obliged to be at the expence of a tedious law-ſuit to recover the poſſeſſion of his wife, who was forcibly detained from him. At length our poet's extraordinary me⯑rit and winning behaviour ſo far ſubdued Sir George's reſentment, that he uſed his intereſt with the Chan⯑cellor to have his ſon-in-law reſtored to his place; but this requeſt was refuſed; his lordſhip obſerving, that he did not chuſe to diſcharge and re-admit ſer⯑vants at the requeſt of his paſſionate petitioners. Sir George had been ſo far reconciled to his daughter and ſon, as not to deny his paternal bleſſing, but would contribute nothing towards their ſupport, Mr. Donne's fortune being greatly diminiſhed by the expence of travels, law-ſuits, and the genero⯑ſity of his temper; however his wants were in a great meaſure prevented by the ſeaſonable bounty of their kinſman Sir Francis Wooley, who enter⯑tained them ſeve [...]al years at his houſe at Pilford in Surry, where our author had ſeveral children born to him. During his reſidence at Pilford he applied himſelf with great diligence and ſucceſs to the ſtudy of the civil and canon law, and was about this time ſollicited by Dr. Morton, (afterwards lord biſhop of Durham) to go into holy Orders, and accept of a Benefice the Doctor would have reſigned to him; but he thought proper to refuſe this obliging offer. He lived with Sir Francis [205] till that gentleman's death, by whoſe mediation a perfect reconciliation was effected between Mr. Donne and his father-in-law; who obliged himſelf to pay our author 800 l. at a certain day as his wife's portion, or 20 l. quarterly for their main⯑tenance, till it was all paid.
He was incorporated maſter of arts in the uni⯑verſity of Oxford, having before taken the ſame degree at Cambridge 1610.
About two years after the reconciliation with his father, he was prevailed upon with much difficulty to accompany Sir Robert Drury to Paris§. Mrs. Donne, being then big with child and in a languiſh⯑ing ſtate of health, ſtrongly oppoſed his departure, telling him, that her divining ſoul boaded ſome ill in his abſence; but Sir Robert's importunity was not to be reſiſted, and he at laſt conſented to go with him. Mr. Walton gives an account of a viſion Mr. Donne had ſeen after their arrival there, which he ſays was told him by a perſon of honour, who had a great intimacy with Mr. Donne; and as it has in it ſomething curious enough, I ſhall here preſent it to the reader in that author's own words*. ‘"Two days after their arrival there, Mr. Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert and he and ſome other friends had dined toge⯑ther. To this place Sir Robert returned within half an hour; and as he left ſo he found Mr. Donne alone, but in ſuch an extaſy, and ſo altered as to his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to behold him; inſomuch that he earneſtly de⯑ſired Mr. Donne to declare what had befallen him in the ſhort time of his abſence; to which he was not able to make a preſent anſwer, but after a long and perplexed pauſe did at laſt ſay: I have ſeen a dreadful viſion ſince I ſaw [206] you; I have ſeen my wife paſs twice by me through this room with her hair hanging about her ſhoulders, and a dead child in her arms. To which Sir Robert replied, ſure Sir, you have ſlept ſince you ſaw me, and this is the reſult of ſome melancholy dream, which I deſire you to forget, for you are now awake. To which Mr. Donne's reply was: I cannot be ſurer that I now live, than that I have not ſlept ſince I ſaw you; and am as ſure that at her ſecond ap⯑pearing ſhe ſtopt and looked me in the face and vaniſhed."’ Reſt and ſleep had not altered Mr. Donne's opinion next day, for then he confirmed his viſion with ſo deliberate a confidence, that he in⯑clined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the viſion was true. It is an obſervation, that deſire and doubt have no reſt, for he immediately ſent a ſervant to Drury-Houſe, with a charge to haſten back and bring him word ‘"whether Mrs. Donne was dead or alive, and if alive in what condition ſhe was as to her health."’ The twelſth day the meſſenger re⯑turned with this account; ‘"that he found and left Mrs. Donne very ſad and ſick in her bed; and that after a long and dangerous labour ſhe had been delivered of a dead child, and upon exami⯑nation the birth proved to be on the ſame day, and about the very hour Mr. Donne affirmed he ſaw her paſs by him in his chamber."’—After Donne's return from France. many of the nobility preſſed the King to confer ſome ſecular employment upon him; but his Majeſty, who conſidered him as better qualified for the ſervice of the church than the ſtate, rejected their requeſts, tho' the Earl of Somer⯑ſet, then the great favourite, joined in petitioning for his preferment. About this time the diſputes concerning the oaths of allegiance and ſupremacy being: gitated. Mr. Donne by his Majeſty's ſpecial command, wrote a treati [...]e on that ſubject, entitled, Pſeudo Martyr, printed in 4to, 1610, with which his [207] his Majeſty was highly pleaſed, and being firmly reſolved to promote him in the church, he preſſed him to enter into holy orders, but he being reſolved to qualify himſelf the better for the ſacred office by ſtudying divinity, and the learned languages de⯑ferred his entering upon it three years longer, dur⯑ing which time he made a vigorous application to theſe branches of knowledge, and was then or⯑dained both deacon and prieſt, by Dr. John King, then biſhop of London. Preſently after he was ap⯑pointed one of the chaplains in ordinary to his Ma⯑jeſty, and about the ſame time attending the King in a progreſs, he was created Dr. in divinity, by the univerſity of Cambridge, by the particular re⯑commendation of that Prince*. His abilities and induſtry in his profeſſion were ſo eminent, and himſelf ſo well beloved, that within the firſt year of his entering into holy orders, he had the offer of fourteen benefices from perſons of quali⯑ty, but as they lay in the country, his inclination of living in London, made him refuſe them all. Upon his return from Cambridge his wife died, and his grief for her loſs was ſo great, that for ſome time he betook himſelf to a retired and ſolitary life: Mrs. Donne died in the year 1617, on the ſe⯑venth day after the birth of her twelfth child. She left our author in a narrow unſettled ſtate with ſeven children then living, to her he gave a vo⯑luntary aſſurance, that he would never bring them under the ſubjection of a ſtep-mother, and this promiſe he faithfully kept. Soon after the death of his wife, he was choſen preacher of Lincoln's Inn, and in the year 1619 appointed by King James to attend the earl of Doncaſter, in his embaſſy to the Princes of Germany, and about 14 months af⯑ter his return to England, he was advanced to the deanery of St. Paul's. Upon the vacancy of the [208] deanery, the King ſent an order to Dr. Donne, to attend him the next day at dinner: When his Majeſty ſat down, he ſaid, ‘"Dr. Donne, I have invited you to dinner, and though you ſit not down with me, yet I will carve to you of a diſh that I know you love well; for knowing you love London, I do therefore make you dean of St. Paul's, and when I have dined, then do you take your beloved diſh home to your ſtudy, ſay grace there to your ſelf, and much good may it do you.*"’ Soon after, another vica⯑rage of St. Dunſtan in the Weſt, and another be⯑nefice fell to Dr. Donne. 'Till the 59th year of his age he continued in perfect health, when being with his eldeſt daughter in Eſſex, in 1630, he was taken ill of a fever, which brought on a conſump⯑tion; notwithſtanding which he returned to London, and preached in his turn at court as uſual, on the firſt friday in Lent. He died on the 31ſt day of March 1631, and was buried in the cathedral church of St. Paul's, where a monument wa [...] erect⯑ed over him. Walton ſays that amongſt other pre⯑parations for death, he made uſe of this very re⯑markable one. He ordered an urn to be cut in wood, on which was to be placed a board of the exact heighth of his body: this being done, he cauſed himſelf to be tied up in a winding ſheet in the ſame manner that dead bodies are. Being thus ſhrouded, and ſtanding with his eyes ſhut, and with juſt ſo much of the ſheet put aſide, as might diſ⯑cover his thin pale, and death like face, he cauſed a ſkilful painter to draw his picture. This piece being finiſhed, was placed near his bed-ſide, and there remained as his conſtant remembrancer to the hour of his death.
His character as a preacher and a poet are ſuffi⯑ciently ſeen in his incomparable writings. His per⯑ſonal [209] qualifications were as eminent as thoſe of his mind; he was by nature exceeding paſſionate, but was apt to be ſorry for the exceſſes of it, and like moſt other paſſionate men, was humane and bene⯑volent. His monument was compoſed of white marble, and carved from the picture juſt now men⯑tioned of him, by order of his executor Dr. King, biſhop of Chicheſter, who wrote the following in⯑ſcription,‘Johannes Donne, S. T. P.
Poſt varia ſtudia, quibus ab annis tenerimus fide⯑liter,
Nec infeliciter, incubit,
Inſtinctu et impulſu ſpiritus ſancti, monitu et horatu,
Regis Jacobi, ordines ſacros amplexus,
Anno ſui Jeſu 1614, et ſuae aetatis 42,
Decanatu hujus eccleſiae indutus 27 Novembris 1621,
Exutus morte ultimo die Martii 1631.
Hic, licet in occiduo cinere, aſpicit eum,
Cujus nomen eſt oriens.
’
Our author's poems conſiſt of, 1. Songs and Sonnets. 2. Epigrams. 3. Elegies. 4. Epithalamiums, or Marriage Songs. 5. Satires. 6. Letters to ſeveral Perſonages. 7. Funeral Elegies. 8. Holy Sonnets. They are printed together in one volume 12mo. 1719, with the addition of elegies upon the author by ſeveral perſons. Mr. Dryden in his dedication of Juvenal to the earl of Dorſet, has given Dr. Donne the character of the greateſt wit, though not the greateſt poet of our nation, and wiſhes his ſa⯑tires and other works were rendered into modern language. Part of this wiſh the world has ſeen happily executed by the great hand of Mr. Pope. Beſides the Pſeudo-Martyr, and volume of poems now mentioned, there are extant the following works of Dr. Donne, viz.
[211] The piece from whence I ſhall take the follow⯑ing quotation, is called a Hymn to God the Fa⯑ther, was compoſed in the time of his ſickneſs, which breathes a ſpirit of fervent piety, though no great force of poetry is diſcoverable in it.
A Renowned poet, who lived in the reigns of Eli⯑zabeth, James and Charles I. ſprung from an ancient family, originally deſcended from the town of Drayton in Leiceſterſhire, * but his parents re⯑moving into Warwickſhire, he was born there, as he himſelf declares in his Poly-olbion, Song 13. A little village called Harſul in that county claims the honour of his birth, by which accident it is raiſed from obſcurity; he was born in the year 1593, according to the moſt accurate computation that can be made from the dates of his works. When he was but very young he gave ſuch diſcoveries of a riſing genius as rendered him a favourite with his tutors, and procured him the patronage of perſons of diſtinction. In the year 1573, being then but about ten years of age, he was page to ſome honoura⯑ble perſon, as may be collected from his own words: In ſome of his epiſtles to Henry Reynold eſquire, it appears that even then he could conſtrue his Cato, and ſome other little collections of ſen⯑tences, which made him very anxious to know, what ſort of beings the poets were, and very preſſ⯑ing upon his tutor to make him, if poſſible, a po⯑et. In conſequence of this he was put to the read⯑ing of Virgil's [...]clogues, and 'till even then, ſays one of his Biographers, he ſcorned any thing that looked like a ballad, though written by El⯑derton himſelf. This Elderton was a famous co⯑median in thoſe days, and a facetious companion, who having a great readineſs at rhiming, com⯑poſed many catches on Love and Wine, which [213] were then in great vogue among the giddy and vo⯑latile part of the town; but he was not more ce⯑lebrated for drollory than drinking, ſo that he ob⯑tained the name of the bacchanalian buffoon, the red-noſed ballad-maker, &c. and at laſt by the exceſſive indulgence of his favourite vice, he fell a martyr to it 1592, and Mr. Camden has preſerv⯑ed this epitaph on him, which for its humour, I ſhall here give a place.
If after this our author did not finiſh his edu⯑cation at the univerſity of Cambridge, it is evident from the teſtimony of Sir Aſton Cohain, his in⯑timate friend, who mentions him in his Choice Poems of ſeveral Sorts, that he was for ſome time a ſtudent at Oxford; however, he is not taken no⯑tice of by Wood, who has commemorated the moſt part of the writers who were educated there. In 1588 it-appears from his poem, entitled Moſes his Birth and Miracles, that he was a ſpectator at Dover of the Spaniſh invaſion, which was arro⯑gantly ſtiled Invincible, and it is not improbable that he was engaged in ſome military employment there, eſpecially as we ſind ſome mention made of him, as being in eſteem with the gentlemen of the army. He early addicted himſelf to the amuſe⯑ment of poetry, but all who have written of him, have been negligent in informing us how ſoon he favoured the public with any production of his own. He was diſtinguiſhed as a poet about nine or ten years before the death of Queen Elizabeth, but at what time he began to publiſh cannot be aſcertained. In the year 1593, when he was but 30 years of age, he publiſhed a collection of his Paſto⯑rals; [214] likewiſe ſome of the moſt grave poems, and ſuch as have tranſmitted his name to poſterity with honour, not long after ſaw the light. His Baron's wars, and England's heroical Epiſtles; his Down⯑fals of Robert of Normandy; Matilda and Ga⯑veſton, for which laſt he is called by one of his cotemporaries, Tragaediographus, and part of his Polyo [...]bion were written before the year 1598, for all which joined with his perſonal good character, he was highly celebrated at that time, not only for the elegance and ſweetneſs of his expreſſions, but his actions and manners, which were uniformly vir⯑tuous and honourable; he was thus characteriſed not only by the poets, and florid writers of thoſe days, but alſo by divines, hiſtorians, and other ſcho⯑lars of the moſt ſerious turn and extenſive learn⯑ing. In his younger years he was much beloved and patronized by Sir Walter Aſton of Tixhall in Staffordſhire, to whom for his kind protection, he gratefully dedicates many of his poems, whereof his Barons Wars was the firſt, in the ſpring of his acquaintance, as Drayton himſelf expreſſes it; but however, it may be gathered from his works, that his moſt early dependance was upon another pa⯑tron, namel [...], Sir Henry Goodere of Poleſworth, in his own county, to whom he has been grateful for a great part of his education, and by whom he was recommended to the patronage of the counteſs of Bedford: it is no leſs plain from many of his dedications to Sir Walter Aſton, that he was for many years ſupported by him, and accommodated with ſuch ſupplies as afforded him leiſure to finiſh ſome of his moſt elaborate compoſitions; and the author of the Biographia Britannicahas told us, 'that it has been alledged, that he was by the intereſt of the ſame gentleman with Sir Roger Aſhton, one of the Bedchamber to King James in his mino⯑rity, made in ſome meaſure miniſterial to an inter⯑courſe of correſpondence between the young King [215] of Scots and Queen Elizabeth:' but as no authority is produced to prove this, it is probably without foundation, as poets have ſeldom inclination, acti⯑vity or ſteadineſs to manage any ſtate affairs, parti⯑cularly a point of ſo delicate a nature.
Our author certainly had fair proſpects, from his ſervices, or other teſtimonies of early attachment to the King's intereſt, of ſome preferment, beſides he had written Sonnets, in praiſe of the King as a po⯑et. Thus we ſee Drayton deſcending to ſervile flattery to promote his intereſt, and praiſing a man as a poet contrary to his own judgment, becauſe he was a King who was as devoid of poetry as courage.
He welcomed his Majeſty to his Britiſh dominions with a congratulatory poem printed in 4to, 1603.
The ſame year he was choſen by Sir Walter Aſton one of the eſquires who attended him, when he was with others created knight of the Bath at the coronation of his Majeſty. It no where appears that ever our author printed thoſe poems in praiſe of his Majeſty; and the ungrateful reception they met, as well as the diſagreeable experience of the univerſal degeneracy at court, ſo different from that of the Maiden Reign, might extinguiſh all hope of raiſing himſelf there.
In the year 1613 he publiſhed the firſt part of his Poly-olbion. It is a chorographical deſcription of the rivers, mountains, foreſts, caſtles, &c. in this Iſland, intermixed with the remarkable antiquities, rarities, commodities, &c. This part is addreſſed to Prince Henry, the promiſing ſon of James I. by whoſe encouragement it was written. He had ſhewed Drayton ſome ſingular marks of his favour. and ſeems to have admitted him as one of his poetical penſioners, but dying before the book was finiſhed, he loſt the benefit of his patronage, In this volume there are eighteen ſongs, illuſtra⯑ted with the notes of the learned Mr. Selden, and there are maps before every ſong, whereby [216] the cities, mountains, foreſts, rivers, &c. are re⯑preſented by the figures of men and women. It is interwoven with many epiſodes, ſuch as the conqueſt of this Iſland by the Romans, the ar⯑rival of the Saxons, the Danes and Normans, &c. And biſhop Nicholſon ob [...]erves, that Poly-olbion affords a much more accurate account of this kingdom and the Dominion of Wales than could have been expected from the pen of a poet. How poetically our author has conducted and executed his plan, is admirably expreſſed by the ingenious Dr. James Kirkpatrick, in a beautiful poem of his called the Sea-Piece. Canto II. which I can⯑not here omit tranſcribing.
In 1619 came out his firſt folio volume of poems, In 1622 the ſecond part of his Poly-olbion was publiſhed, making in all thirty books or ſongs. In 1622 we find him ſtiled Poet Laureat: It is pro⯑bable this appellation of Poet Laureat was not con⯑fined and reſtricted as it is now to his Majeſty's Ser⯑vant known by that title, who at that time it is pre⯑ſumed was Ben Johnſon, becauſe it was beſtowed promiſcuouſly as a mark of any poet's excellency in his profeſſion.
In 1627 was publiſhed the ſecond volume of his poems, containing the battle of Agencourt, in ſtan⯑zas of eight lines. The myſteries of Queen Mar⯑garet in the like ſtanzas. Nymphidia, or the Court of Faeries. The Queſt of Cynthia, another beauti⯑ful piece, both reprinted in Dryden's Miſcellanies. The Shepherd's Sirena; alſo the Moon Calf; Sa⯑tire on the Maſculine Affectations of Women, and [217] the effeminate diſguiſes of the Men, in thoſe times. Elegies upon ſeveral occaſions. Theſe are intro⯑duced by the viſion of Ben Johnſon on the Muſe of his friend Michael Drayton, wherein he very parti⯑cularly enumerates and praiſes his ſeveral compoſi⯑tions. In 1630 he publiſhed another volume of poems in 4to, intitled the Muſes Elizium, in ten ſundry Nymphals, with three different poems on Noah's flood; Moſes his birth and miracles, and David and Goliah. The paſtoral poems are addreſ⯑ſed to Edward Sackville Earl of Dorſet, and Lord Chamberlain, who had now made him one of his family. His divine poems are written in verſe and various meaſures, and are dedicated to the Counteſs of Dorſet; and there are ſome ſublime images in them. At the end of the firſt divine poem, there are copies of verſes in praiſe of the author, by Beal Sapperton, in Latin; Mr. John Fletcher, and Tho⯑mas Andrews in Engliſh; the laſt of whom is very laviſh in diſplaying the great extent of our poet's fame.
In 1631 Mr. Drayton died, or as it is expreſſed in his monumental inſcription, exchanged his laurel for a crown of glory. He was buried among the poets in Weſtminſter-Abbey, and the handſome ta⯑ble monument of blue marble which was raiſed o⯑ver his grave the ſame year, is adorned with his ef⯑figies in buſto, laureated. On one ſide is a creſt of Minerva's cap, and Pegaſus in a ſcutcheon on the other. Sir Aſton Cokain compoſed an elegy upon him: and Ben Johnſon is ſaid to have been the author of his epitaph, which is written in let⯑ters of gold upon his monument, with which I ſhall here preſent the reader.
Mr. Drayton enjoyed the friendſhip and admirati⯑on of contemporary wits, and Ben Johnſon who was not much diſpoſed to praiſe, entertained a high opi⯑nion of him, and in this epitaph has both immor⯑talized himſelf and his friend. It is eaſy for thoſe who are converſant with our author's works to ſee how much the moderns and even Mr. Pope himſelf copy Mr. Drayton, and refine upon him in thoſe diſtinctions which are eſteemed the moſt delicate im⯑provements of our Engliſh verſification, ſuch as the turns, the pauſes, the elegant tautologies, &c. It is not difficult to point out ſome depredations which have been made on our author by modern writers, however obſolete ſome of them may have reckoned him. In one of his heroical epiſtles, that of King John to Matilda, he has the following lines.
Theſe are aſcribed to the Earl of Rocheſter, who was unexceptionably a great wit. They are not otherwiſe materially altered, than by the tranſpo⯑ſure of the rhimes in the firſt couplet, and the re⯑tr [...]nchment of the meaſure in both. As the ſphere in which this author moved was of the middle ſort, neither raiſed to ſuch eminence as to incur [219] danger, nor ſo depreſt with poverty as to be ſub⯑ject to meanneſs, his life ſeems to have flowed with great tranquility; nor are there any of thoſe viciſſitudes and diſtreſſes which have ſo frequently fallen to the lot of the inſpired tribe. He was ho⯑noured with the patronage of men of worth, tho' not of the higheſt ſtations; and that author cannot be called a mean one, on whom ſo great a man as Selden (in many reſpects the moſt finiſhed ſcholar that ever appeared in our nation) was pleaſed to animadvert. His genius ſeems to have been of the ſecond rate, much beneath Spencer and Sidney, Shakeſpear and Johnſon, but highly removed a⯑bove the ordinary run of verſifyers. We ſhall quote a few lines from his Poly-olbion as a ſpecimen of his poetry.
When he ſpeaks of his native county, Warwick⯑ſhire, he has the following lines;
WAS ſon of Mr. Vincent Corbet, and born at Ewelb in Surry, in the reign of Queen Eli⯑zabeth. He was educated at Weſtminſter ſchool, and from thence was ſent to Oxford, 1597, where he was admitted a ſtudent in Chriſt-church. In 1605, being then eſteemed one of the greateſt wits of the Univerſity, he took the degree of Maſter of Arts, and afterwards entering into holy orders, he became a popular preacher, and much admired by people of taſte and learning. His ſhining wit, and remark⯑able eloquence recommended him to King James I. who made him one of his chaplains in ordinary, and in 1620 promoted him to the deanery of Chriſt's-church; about which time he was made doctor of divinity, vicar of Caſſington, near Wood⯑ſtock, in Oxfordſhire, and prebendary of Bed-minſter-ſecunda, in the church of Sarum.†
While he was dean of Chriſt's church, he made verſes on a play acted before the King at Woodſtock, called Technogamia, or the marriage of Arts, writ⯑ten by Barten Holiday the poet, who afterwards tranſlated Juvenal. The ill-ſucceſs it met with in the repreſentation occaſioned ſeveral copies of ver⯑ſes, among which, to uſe Anthony Wood's words, ‘"Corbet dean of Chriſt's-church put in for one, who had that day it ſeems preached before the King, with his band ſtarched clean, for which he was reproved by the graver ſort; but thoſe who knew him well took no notice of it, for they [221] have ſeveral times ſaid, that he loved to the laſt boy's play very well."’ He was elected, 1629, Bi⯑ſhop of Oxford, in the room of Dr. Hewſon, tranſ⯑lated to the See of Durham. Upon the promotion of Dr. White to Ely he was elected biſhop of Nor⯑wich.
This prelate married Alice, daughter of Dr. Leo⯑nard Hutton, vicar of Flower in Northamptonſhire, and he mentions that village in a poem of his called Iter Boreale, or a Journey Northward Our au⯑thor was in that celebrated claſs of poets, Ben John⯑ſon, Dr. Donne, Michael Drayton, and others, who wrote mock commendatory verſes on Tom Coryate's* Crudities. He concurred likewiſe with other poets of the univerſity in inviting Ben Johnſon to Oxford, where he was created Maſter of Arts. There is extant in the Muſaeum Aſhmoleanum, a funeral oration in Latin, by Dr. Corbet, on the death of Prince Henry, Anno Dom. 1612; § This great man died in the year 1635, and was buried the up⯑per-end of the choir of the cathedral church of Norwich.
He was very hoſpitable and a generous encourag⯑er of all public deſigns. When in the year 1634 St. Paul's cathedral was repaired, he not only con⯑tributed himſelf, but was very diligent in procuring contributions from others. His works are difficult to be met with, but from ſuch of his poems as we have had occaſion to read, he ſeems to have been a witty, delicate writer, and to have had a particu⯑lar talent for panegyric. Wood ſays, a collection of his poems was publiſhed under the title of Poetica Stromata, in 8vo. London 1647. In his Iter Bo⯑reale, or Journey Northward, we meet with a fine moral reflexion on the burial place of Richard III. and Cardinal Wolſey, who were both interred at and Cardinal Wolſey, who were both interred at [222] Leiceſter; with which we ſhall preſent the reader as a ſpecimen of his poetry.
The author of the Biographia Britanica tells us, that he found in a blank leaf of his poems, ſome manuſcript verſes, in honour of Biſhop Corbet ſign⯑ed J. C. with which, as they are extremely pretty, and make a juſt repreſentation of his poetical cha⯑racter, we ſhall conclude this life.
ALL the biographers of the poets have been extremely negligent with reſpect to this great genias. Philips ſo far overlooks him, that he crowds him into his ſupplement, and Winſtanley, who ſol⯑lowed him, poſtpones our author till after the Earl of Rocheſter. Sir Thomas Pope Blount makes no mention of him; and Mr. Jacob, ſo juſtly called the Blunderbus of Law, informs us he wrote in the time of Charles the firſt, tho' he dedicates his tran⯑ſlation of Taſſo to Queen Elizabeth. All who menti [...]n him, do him the juſtice to allow he was an accompliſhed genius, but then it is in a way ſo cool and indifferent, as ſhews that they had ne⯑ver read his works, or were any way charmed with the melody of his verſes. It was impoſſible Mr. Dryden could be ſo blind to our author's beauties; accordingly we find him introducing Spenſer and Fairfax almoſt on the level, as the leading authors of their times; nay tacitly yielding the palm in point of harmony to the laſt; by aſſerting that Waller confeſſed he owed the muſic of his numbers to Fairfax's Godfrey of Bulloign. The truth is, this gentleman is per⯑haps the only writer down to Sir William Dave⯑nant, who needs no apology to be made for him, on account of the age in which he lived▪ His diction is ſo pure, elegant, and full of graces, and the turn of his lines ſo perfectly melodious, that one cannot read it without rapture; and we can [224] ſcarcely imagine the original Italian has greatly the advantage in either, nor is it very probable that while Fairfax can be read, any author will attempt a new tranſlation of Taſſo with ſucceſs. Mr. Fair⯑fax was natural ſon of Sir Thomas Fairfax of Den⯑ton, and natural brother to Sir Thomas Fairfax, the firſt who was created Baron of Cameron. His young⯑er brother was knighted, and ſlain at the memorable [...]iege of Oſtend, 1601, of which place he was ſome time governor†. When he married is not on record, or in what circumſtances he lived: But it is very probable, his father took care to ſupport him in a manner ſuitable to his own quality, and his ſon's extraordinary merit, he being always ſtiled Edward Fairfax, Eſq of Newhall in Fuyſtone, in the foreſt of Knaresborough. The year in which he died is likewiſe uncertain, and the laſt account we hear of him is, that he was living in 1631, which ſhews, that he was then pretty well advanced in years, and as I ſuppoſe gave occaſion to the many miſtakes that have been made as to the time of his writing. Be⯑ſides the tranſlation of Godfrey of Bulloigne, Mr. Fairfax wrote the hiſtory of Edward the Black Prince, and certain eclogues, which Mrs. Cooper tells us are yet in manuſcript, tho' (ſays ſhe) ‘"by the indulgence of the family, from whom I had like⯑wiſe the honour of theſe memoirs, I am permit⯑ted to oblige the world with a ſpecimen of their beauties."’ He wrote alſo a book called, Daemo⯑nologie, in which he ſhews a great deal of ancient reading and knowledge; it is ſtill in manuſcript, and in the beginning he gives this character of himſelf§. ‘"I am in religion neither a fantaſtic Puritan, nor ſuperſtitious Papiſt, but ſo ſettled in conſcience, that I have the ſure ground of God's word to war⯑rant all I believe, and the commendable ordinan⯑ces of our Engliſh Church, to approve all I prac⯑tiſe; [225] In which courſe I live a faithful Chriſtian, and an obedient, and ſo teach my family."’ The eclogues already mentioned are twelve in number, all of them written after the acceſſion of King James to the throne of England, on important ſubjects, rela⯑ting to the manners, characters, and incidents of the times he lived in: they are pointed with many fine ſtrokes of ſatire, dignified with noble inſtructions of morality, and policy, to thoſe of the higheſt rank, and ſome modeſt hints to Majeſty itſelf. The learn⯑ing contained in theſe eclogues is ſo various and ex⯑tenſive, that according to the opinion of his ſon, who has written long annotations on each, no man's reading beſides his own was ſufficient to explain his references effectually. As his tranſlation of Taſſo is in every body's hand, we ſhall take the ſpecimen from the fourth eclogue, called Eglon and Alexis, as I find it in Mrs. Cooper's collection.
A Poet of no mean genius, was born at Newn⯑ham, near Daintry in Northamptonſhire, the 15th of June, 1605; he was ſon of William Randolph of Hams, near Lewes in Suſſex, was educated at Weſtminſter ſchool, and went from thence to Trinity College in Cambridge, 1623, of which he became a fellow; he commenced Maſter of Arts, and in this degree was incorporated at Oxon*, became famous (ſays Wood) for his inge⯑nuity, being the adopted ſon of Ben Johnſon, and accounted one of the moſt pregnant wits of his age. The quickneſs of his parts was diſcovered early; when he was about nine or ten years old he wrote the Hiſtory of the Incarnation of Our Saviour in verſe, which is preſerved in manu⯑ſcript under his own hand writing. Randolph receives from Langbaine the higheſt encomium. He tells his readers that they need expect no diſco⯑veries of thefts, for this author had no occaſion to practiſe plagiary, having ſo large a fund of wit of his own, that he needed not to borrow from others. Were a foreigner to form a notion of the merit of the Engliſh poets from reading Lang⯑baine, they would be in raptures with Randolph and Durfey, and others of their claſs, while Dry⯑den, and the firſt-rate wits, would be quite neglect⯑ed: Langbaine is ſo far generous, that he does all he can to draw obſcure men into light, but then he [227] cannot be acquitted of envy, for endeavouring to ſhade the luſtre of thoſe whoſe genius has broke through obſcurity without his means, and he does no ſervice to his country while he confines his pa⯑negyric to mean verſifiers, whom no body can read without a certain degree of contempt.
Our author had done nothing in life it ſeems worth preſerving, or at leaſt that cotemporary hiſto⯑rians thought ſo, for there is little to be learned concerning him. Wood ſays he was like other poets, much addicted to libertine indulgence, and by being too free with his conſtitution in the com⯑pany of his admirers, and running into faſhion⯑able exceſſes, he was the means of ſhortening his own days. He died at little Haughton in Nor⯑thamptonſhire, and was buried in an iſle ad⯑joining to the church in that place, on the 17th of March, 1634. He had ſoon after a monument of white marble wreathed about with laurel, erected over his grave at the charge of lord Hatton of Kirby. Perhaps the greateſt merit which this author has to plead, is his attachment to Ben Johnſon, and admiration of him: Silius Ita⯑licus performed an annual viſit to Virgil's tomb, and that circumſtance reflects more honour upon him in the eyes of Virgil's admirers, than all the works of that author. Langbaine has preſerved a monument of Randolph's friendſhip for Ben John⯑ſon, in an ode he addreſſed to him, occaſioned by Mr. Feltham's ſevere attack upon him, which is particularized in the life of Ben; from this ode we ſhall quote a ſtanza or two, before I give an ac⯑count of his dramatic compoſitions.
The reader may obſerve that the ſtanzas are rea⯑ſonably ſmooth, and mark him a tolerable verſifier. I ſhall now give ſome account of his plays.
All theſe dramatic pieces and poems were publiſhed in 1668; he tranſlated likewiſe the ſecond Epod of Horace, ſeveral pieces out of Claudian, and like⯑wiſe a dramatic piece from Ariſtophanes, which he calls Hey for Honeſty, Down with Knavery, a pleaſant comedy printed in 4to. London 1651. A gentleman of St. John's College, writes thus in ho⯑nour of our author;
WAS born in the year 1557, but of what family he is deſcended, Mr. Wood has not been able to determine; he was a man in very high reputation in his time, and added not a little to dramatic excellence. In 1574, being well ground⯑ed in grammar learning, he was ſent to the uni⯑verſity, but it is not clear whether to Oxford or Cambridge; it is certain that he was ſometime in Oxford, and was taken notice of for his great [230] ſkill in the Latin and Greek languages, but not in logic and philoſophy, which is the reaſon it may be preſumed, that he took no degree there. After this he came to London, and contracted an ac⯑quaintance, as Wood ſays, with Shakeſpear, John⯑ſon, Sidney, Spenſer and Daniel. He met with a very warm patronage from Sir Thomas Walſing⯑ham, who had always had a conſtant friendſhip for him, and after that gentleman's deceaſe, from his ſon Thomas Walſingham, eſquire, whom Chap⯑man loved f [...]om his birth. He was alſo reſpected, and held in eſteem by Prince Henry, and Robert earl of Somerſet, but the firſt being untimely ſnatched away, and the other juſtly diſgraced for an aſſaſſination*, his hopes of preferment were by theſe means fruſtrated; however, he was a ſer⯑vant either to King James I. or Queen Anne his conſort, through whoſe reign he was highly va⯑lued by all his old friends, only there are ſome in⯑ſinuations, that as his reputation grew, Ben John⯑ſon, naturally haughty and inſolent, became jealous of him, and endeavoured to ſuppreſs, as much as poſſible, his riſing fame‖, as Ben, after the death of Shakeſpear, was without a rival.
Chapman was a man of a reverend aſpect, and graceful manner, religious and temperate, qualities which ſeldom meet (ſays Wood) in a poet, and was ſo highly eſteemed by the clergy, that ſome of them have ſaid, ‘"that as Muſaeus, who wrote the lives of Hero and Leander, had two excellent ſcholars, Thamarus and Hercules, ſo had he in England in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth, two ex⯑cellent imitators in the ſame argument and ſub⯑ject, viz. Chriſtopher Marlow, and George Chapman."’ Our author has tranſlated the Iliad of Homer, publiſhed in folio, and dedicated to Prince Henry, which is yet looked upon with ſome [231] reſpect. He is ſaid to have had the ſpirit of a poet in him, and was indeed no mean genius: Pope ſomewhere calls him an enthuſiaſt in poetry. He likewiſe tranſlated the Odyſſey, and the Battle of Frogs and Mice, which were publiſhed in 1614, and dedicated to the earl of Somerſet; to this work is added Hymns and Epigrams, written by Homer, and tranſlated by our author. He likewiſe attempt⯑ed ſome part of Heſiod, and continued a tranſla⯑tion of Muſaeus's Aerotopegnion de Herone & Le⯑andro. Prefixed to this work, are ſome anecdotes of the life of Muſaeus, taken by Chapman from the collection of Dr. William Gager, and a dedi⯑cation to the moſt generally ingenious and only learned architect of his time, Inigo Jones eſquire, Surveyor of his Majeſty's Works. At length, ſays Wood, this reverend and eminent poet, having lived 77 years in this vain, tranſitory world, made his laſt exit in the pariſh of St. Giles's in the Fields, near London, on the 12th day of May, 1655, and was buried in the yard on the South ſide of the church in St. Giles's: ſoon after a monument was erected over his grave, built after the manner of the old Romans, at the expence, and under the direction of his much loved worthy friend Inigo Jones, whereon is this engraven, Georgius Chap⯑mannus, Poeta Homericus, Philoſophus verus (etſi Chriſtianus Poeta) pluſquam celebris, &c.
His dramatic works are,
ONE of the beſt dramatic poets of the 17th century, was deſcended from a Scots family, his grandfather, who was a gentleman, being ori⯑ginally of Annandale in that kingdom, whence he removed to Carliſle, and afterwards was employed in the ſervice of King Henry VIII. His father loſt his eſtate under Queen Mary, in whoſe reign he ſuffered impriſonment, and at laſt entered into holy orders, and died about a month before our poet's birth*, who was born at Weſtminſter, ſays Wood, in the year 1574. He was firſt educated at a private ſchool in the church of St. Martin's in the Fields, afterwards removed to Weſtminſter ſchool, where the famous Camden was maſter. His mo⯑ther, who married a bricklayer to her ſecond huſ⯑band, took him from ſchool, and obliged him to work at his father-in-law's trade, but being ex⯑tremely averſe to that employment, he went into the low countries, where he diſtinguiſhed himſelf by his bravery, having in the view of the army killed an enemy, and taken the opima ſpolia from him.
Upon his return to England, he applied himſelf again to his former ſtudies, and Wood ſays he was admitted into St. John's College in the univerſity of Cambridge, though his continuance there ſeems to have been but ſhort. He had ſome time after this the misfortune to fight a duel, and kill his ad⯑verſary, who only ſlightly wounded him in the arm; for this he was impriſoned, and being caſt for his life, was near execution; his antagoniſt, he [236] ſaid, had a ſword ten inches longer than his own.
While he lay in priſon, a popiſh prieſt viſited him, who found his inclination quite diſengaged as to reli⯑gion, and therefore took the opportunity to impreſs him with a belief of the popiſh tenets. His mind then naturally melancholy, clouded with apprehen⯑ſions, and the dread of execution, was the more eaſily impoſed upon. However, ſuch was the force of that impreſſion, that for twelve years after he had gained his liberty, he continued in the catholic faith, and at laſt turned Proteſtant, whether from conviction or faſhion cannot be determined; but when the character of Ben is conſidered, probabi⯑lity will be upon the ſide of the latter, for he took every occaſion to ridicule religion in his plays, and make it his ſport in converſation. On his leaving the univerſity he entered himſelf into an obſcure playhouſe, called the Green Cur⯑tain, ſomewhere about Shoreditch or Clerkenwell. He was firſt an actor, and probably only a ſtrolling one; for Decker in his Satyromaſtix, a play pub⯑liſhed in 1602, and deſigned as a reply to John⯑ſon's Poetaſter, ‘'reproaches him with having left the occupation of a mortar trader to turn actor, and with having put up a ſupplication to be a poor journeyman player, in which he would have continued, but that he could not ſet a good face upon it, and ſo was caſhiered. Beſides, if we ad⯑mit that ſati [...]e to be built on facts, we learn fur⯑ther, that he performed the part of Zuliman at the Paris Garden in Southwark, and ambled by a play-waggon on the high-way, and took mad Jeronymo's part to get ſervice amongſt the mi⯑micks*.'’ Shakeſpear is ſaid to have firſt intro⯑duced him to the world, by recommending a play of his to the ſtage, at the time when one of the [237] players had rejected his performance, and told him it would be of no ſervice to their company†. His firſt printed dramatic performance was a Comedy, entitled Every Man in his Humour, acted in the year 1598, which being ſoon followed by ſeveral others, as his Sejanus, his Volpone, his Silent Wo⯑man, and his Alchymiſt, gained him ſo high a re⯑putation, that in October 1619, upon the death of Mr. Samuel Daniel he was made Poet Laureat to King James I. and on the 19th of July, the ſame year, he was created (ſays Wood) Maſter of Arts at Oxford, having reſided for ſome time at Chriſt Church in that univerſity. He once incurred his Majeſty's diſpleaſure for being concerned with Chapman and Marſton in writing a play called Eaſtward-Hoe, wherein they were accuſed of having reflected upon the Scotch nation. Sir James Murray repreſented it to the King, who or⯑dered them immediately to be impriſoned, and they were in great danger of loſing their ears and noſes, as a correction of their wantonneſs; nor could the moſt partial have blamed his Majeſty, if the puniſhment had been inflicted; for ſurely to ri⯑dicule a country from which their Sovereign had juſt come, the place of his nativity, and the king⯑dom of his illuſtrious forefathers, was a moſt daring inſult. Upon their releaſement from priſon, our poet gave an entertainment to his friends, among whom were Camden and Selden; when his aged mother drank to him * and ſhewed him a paper of poi⯑ſon which ſhe had deſigned, if the ſentence of pu⯑niſhment had been inflicted, to have mixed with his drink after ſhe had firſt taken a potion of it herſelf.
Upon the acceſſion of Charles I. to the crown, he wrote a petition to that Prince, craving, that as his [238] royal father had allowed him an annual penſion of a hundred marks, he would make them pounds. In the year 1629 Ben fell ſick, and was then poor, and lodged in an obſcure alley; his Majeſty was ſupplicated in his favour, who ſent him ten guineas. When the meſſenger delivered the ſum, Ben took it in his hand, and ſaid, ‘"His Majeſty has ſent me ten guineas becauſe I am poor and live in an alley, go and tell him that his ſoul lives in an alley."’
He had a penſion from the city of London, from ſeveral of the nobility and gentry, and particular⯑ly from Mr. Sutton the founder of the Charter⯑houſe†. In his laſt ſickneſs he often repented of the profanation of ſcripture in his plays. He died the 16th of Auguſt 1637, in the 63d year of his age, and was interred three days after in Weſtminſter Abbey; he had ſeveral children who ſurvived him.
Ben Johnſon conceived ſo high an opinion of Mr. Drummond of Hawthornden by the letters which paſſed between them, that he undertook a journey into Scotland, and reſided ſome time at Mr. Drummond's ſeat there, who has print⯑ed the heads of their converſation, and as it is a curious circumſtance to know the opinion of ſo great a man as Johnſon of his cotemporary writers, theſe heads are here inſerted.
"Ben, ſays Mr. Drummond, was eat up with fancies; he told me, that about the time the Plague raged in London, being in the country at Sir Robert Cotton's houſe with old Camden, he ſaw in a viſion his eldeſt ſon, then a young child, and at London, appear unto him, with the mark of a bloody croſs on his forehead, as if it had been cut with a ſword; at which amazed, he prayed unto God, and in the morn⯑ing he came to Mr. Camden's chamber to tell [239] him; who perſuaded him, it was but an ap⯑prehenſion, at which he ſhould not be dejec⯑ted. In the mean time, there came letters from his wife of the death of that boy in the plague. He appeared to him, he ſaid, of a manly ſhape, and of that growth he thinks he ſhall be at the reſurrection. He ſaid, he ſpent many a night in looking at his great toe, a⯑bout which he had ſeen Tartars, and Turks, Romans and Carthaginians fight in his ima⯑gination.
"That he had a deſign to write an epic poem, and was to call it Chrologia; or the Worthies of his Country, all in couplets, for he deteſted all other rhime. He ſaid he had written a diſcourſe on poetry, both againſt Campion and Daniel, eſpeci⯑ally the laſt, where he proves couplets to be the beſt ſort of verſes,
His cenſure of the Engliſh poets was as follows:
"That Sidney did not keep a decorum, in making every one ſpeak as well 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 under⯑ſtood 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 Dray⯑ton's Poly-olbion, if he had performed what he promiſed to write, the Deeds of all the Wor⯑thies, had been excellent. That Sylveſter's tranſlation of Du Bartas was not well done, and that he wrote his verſes before he under⯑ſtood to confer; and tho [...]e 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 tranſ⯑lations [240] was the worſt. He ſaid Donne was origi⯑nally a poet; his grandfather on the mother's ſide, was Heywood the epigramatiſt. That Donne for not being underſtood would periſh. He affirm⯑ed, that Donne wrote all his beſt pieces before he was twenty years of age. He told Donne, that his Anniverſary was prophane, and full of blaſphe⯑mies, 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 e⯑ſteemed 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 turn⯑ing all his Arcadia to the ſtories of King Ar⯑thur. 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 [241] 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 cha⯑racter the very reverſe of Shakeſpear; as ſurly, ill⯑natured, proud and diſagreeable, as Shakeſpear with ten times his merit was gentle, good-na⯑tured, eaſy and amiable."’ He had a very ſtrong memory; for he tells himſelf in his diſcoveries, that he cou [...]d in his youth have repeated all that he had ever written, and ſo continued till he was paſt ſorty; and even after that he could have repeated whole books that he had read, and poems of ſome ſe⯑lect friends, which he thought worth remembring.
Mr. Pope remarks, that when Ben got poſſeſſion of the ſtage, he brought critical learning into vogue, and that this was not done without difficulty, which appears ſrom 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 an⯑cients: their tragedies were only hiſtories in di⯑alogue, 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 ex⯑tols his ſpecial worth in literature, and his ac⯑curate judgment. Mr. Dryden gives him the ti⯑tle of the greateſt man of the laſt age, and ob⯑ſerves, [242] 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 al⯑tered; 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.
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 poe⯑try; of which I ſhall give an account in order, beginning with one of his beſt comedies.
* The Alchymiſt, the Fox, and the Silent Wo⯑man, 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 re⯑vived laſt year at Drury Lane Theatre, let the new critics, or the actors of the New Mode, de⯑termine.
[249] 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 epi⯑taph; 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 geni⯑us, he continues,
WAS deſcended of a very ancient and reputa⯑ble family of the Carews in Devonſhire, and was brother to Matthew Carew, 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*; afterwards improving his parts by travelling, and converſation with inge⯑nious men in the Metropolis, he acquired ſome reputation for his wit and poetry. About this time [250] 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 al⯑ways eſteemed him to the laſt, one of the moſt celebrated wits about his court‖. 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 cha⯑racter.
The works of our author are,
Poems; firſt printed in Octavo, and afterwards being reviſed and enlarged, there were ſeveral edi⯑tions 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 Fe⯑bruary 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, New⯑port &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;
The following may ſerve as a ſpecimen of the celebrated ſonnets of this elegant writer.
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,
THIS great man was born in the year 1568, at Bocton Hall in the county of Kent, de⯑ſcended 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 an⯑ſwered, 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 wi⯑dow of a gentleman of Kent, who was engaged in ſeveral ſuits in law, and obſerving her com⯑portment, the time of her hearing one of her cauſes before the judges, he could not but at the [253] 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 af⯑fection 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 in⯑ſpiring 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 con⯑tracted an intimacy with Sir Richard Baker, after⯑wards an eminent hiſtorian. Sir Henry did not long continue there, but removed to Queen's Col⯑lege, where, ſays Walton, he made a great pro⯑greſs in logic and philoſophy, and wrote a Tra⯑gedy for the uſe of that college, called Tarroredo. Walton tells us, ‘'that this tragedy was ſo inter⯑woven with ſentences, and for the exact perſonat⯑ing thoſe paſſions and humours he propoſed to repreſent, he ſo performed, that the graveſt of the ſociety declared, that he had in a ſlight 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 vene⯑rable 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. [254] 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 ma⯑nors 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 Wot⯑ton, was diſpoſed to be a party in a very hazard⯑ous 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 un⯑eaſy; 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, de⯑claring 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.
[255] About this time a marriage was concluded be⯑tween the Queen of England, and Philip, King of Spain, which not a little diſobliged ſome of the nobility, who were jealous leſt their country by ſuch a match ſhould be ſubjected to the do⯑minion of Spain, and their independent rights in⯑vaded by that imperious monarch. Theſe ſuſpici⯑ons produced an inſurrection, which was headed by the duke of Suffolk and Sir Thomas Wyat, who both loſt their lives in the attempt to pre⯑vent 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 fa⯑mily, 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 im⯑priſonment, 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 tem⯑per and genius of the people with whom he had converſed, and the different policy of their go⯑vernments. He was ſoon taken notice of after his return, and became ſecretary to the famous Ro⯑bert 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 [256] ſecretary 'till the earl was apprehended for his m [...] ⯑tinous behaviour towards the Queen, and put up⯑on 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 Pro⯑teſtant 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 ex⯑communicate, 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 diſ⯑covered a deſign againſt the life of the King of Scots. The Duke abhorring the ſcheme of aſ⯑faſſination, and reſolving to prevent it, adviſed with his ſecretary Vietta, by what means a caution ſhould be given to the Scotch Prince. Vietta re⯑commended Wotton as a perſon of the higheſt a⯑bilities [257] 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 fluent⯑ly, and with ſo little mixture of a foreign dialect, that he could ſcarcely be diſtinguiſhed from a na⯑tive 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 ex⯑cited 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 au⯑dience 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 ſtand⯑ing 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, af⯑ter a little pauſe, Mr. Wotton ſtept up to the ta⯑ble, [258] and whiſpered to the King in his own lan⯑guage that he was an Engliſhman, requeſting a more private conference with his Majeſty, and that he might be concealed during his ſtay in that na⯑tion, 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 ſatis⯑factory account of his employment.
When King James ſucceeded to the Throne of England, he found among others of Queen Eli⯑zabeth'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 Ed⯑ward'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 pri⯑vately 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 name 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 ex⯑perience, 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*. But before he diſmiſſed Octa⯑vio [259] 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 al⯑liance with the State of Venice, and for that pur⯑poſe 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 ex⯑pences 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 improve⯑ments, 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 ac⯑companied through France to Venice, ſays Wal⯑ton, by gentlemen of the beſt families and breed⯑ing, 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 prac⯑tice 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 [260] 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 per⯑ſons and committed them to priſon.
The juſtice or injuſtice of ſuch power exerciſed by the Venetians, produced debates between the Repub⯑lic 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 excom⯑munication to the whole State, if a revocation was not inſtantly made, which the Venetians rejecting, he proceeded in menaces, and at laſt did excom⯑municate the Duke, the whole Senate, and all their dominions; then he ſhut up the churches, charg⯑ing 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 Vene⯑tians 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 ex⯑ceeding 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.
[261] 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 ac⯑cident too ſingular to be here omitted.
When he firſt went embaſſador to Italy, as he paſſed through Germany he ſtaid ſome days at Augs⯑burgh, 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 bo⯑nus, peregre-miſſus ad mentiendum Republicae cauſa;"’ which he choſe ſhould have been thus rendered into Engliſh: An Ambaſſador is an hon⯑eſt 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 ad⯑mit a double meaning, or ſo fa [...]r 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 faſhiona⯑ble 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 apolo⯑gies, one to Velſerus, which was diſperſed in Ger⯑many and Italy, and another to the King; both which were ſo well written, that his Majeſty up⯑on [262] reading them declared, ‘"that Sir Henry Wot⯑ton 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 in⯑creaſes 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 ſel⯑dom denied him any favour he aſked for his country⯑men who came to Venice; which was, as Walton expreſſes it, a city of refuge ſor 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 il⯑luſtrate his character, deſerve a place here.
There had been many Engliſhmen brought by commanders of their own country, to ſerve the Ve⯑netians ſor pay, againſt the Turks; and thoſe Eng⯑liſh, by irregularities, and imprudence, committed ſuch offences as brought them into priſons, and ex⯑poſed them to work in gallies. Wotton could not be an unconcerned ſpectator of the miſeries of his countrymen: their offences he knew proceeded ra⯑ther 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 ſucceſs⯑ful repreſentation of their calamities, they were ſet at liberty, and had an opportunity of returning to their own country in comfort, in place of languiſh⯑ing 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 [263] 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 ſeve⯑ral of the German princes, and to the Emperor Ferdinando II. and this embaſſy to theſe prin⯑ces 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 en⯑deavours and attendance upon the Emperor and his court, brought to a probability of a ſucceſsful con⯑cluſion, by a treaty; but about that time the Em⯑peror's army fought a battle ſo fortunately, as put an end to the expected treaty, and Sir Henry Wot⯑ton'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 Wot⯑ton'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 re⯑ſided, 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 Hen⯑ry acknowledging his gratitude for the mark of diſtinction ſhewn to him, at the ſame time decla⯑red, he did not chuſe to receive profit from any [264] preſent, given him by an enemy of his royal miſ⯑treſs, for ſo the Queen of Bohemia, the eldeſt daugh⯑ter of the King of England, permitted him to call her.
Upon Sir Henry Wotton's return from his embaſ⯑ſy, he ſignified an inclination to the King to be ex⯑cuſed from any further employment in foreign af⯑fairs, to retire from the buſtle of life, and ſpend the evening of his days in ſtudious eaſe and tran⯑quility. 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 Caeſar, 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 Wot⯑ton 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 re⯑gularly paid, or too inconſiderable for the ex⯑pence. This rendered it impoſſible for him to wait the death of Sir Julius Caeſar; beſides that place had been long ſollicited by that worthy gen⯑tleman for his ſon, and it would have been thought an ill-natured office, to have by any means pre⯑vented it.
It luckily happened at this time, that the Pro⯑voſtſhip of his Majeſty's college at Eaton became vacant by the death of Mr. Murray, for which there were many earneſt and powerful ſollicitati⯑ons. 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 [265] 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 hap⯑pily 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 de⯑votion, 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 Hen⯑ry died in Eaton-College, and was buried in the chapel belonging to it. He directed the follow⯑ing ſentence to be put upon a marble monument to be erected over him.
Hic jacit hujus ſententiae primus author. Diſpu⯑tandi pruritus eccleſiarum ſcabies. Nomen alias quaere.
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 be⯑nevolent to thoſe in diſtreſs, charitable to the poor, and in a word, an honeſt man and a pious chriſ⯑tian. As a poet he ſeems to have no conſidera⯑able genius. His verſification is harmonious, and ſome⯑times [266] 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.
[267] He is author of the following works;
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*. He was the ſon of Robert Markham, of Cotham in the county of Nottingham, Eſq and was famous [269] for his numerous volumes of huſbandry, and horſe⯑manſhip; beſides what he has wrote on rural recre⯑ations and military diſcipline, he underſtood both the practice and theory of war, and was eſteem⯑ed an excellent linguiſt, being maſter of the French, Italian, and Spaniſh languages, from all which he collected obſervations on huſbandry. One piece of dra⯑matic poetry which he has publiſhed, ſays Mr. Lang⯑baine, 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 im⯑perfection of my copy hinders my information; for the foundation, it is built on hiſtory: See Jo⯑ſephus. Mr. Langbaine then proceeds to enume⯑rate his other works, which he ſays, are famous over all England; of theſe he has wrote a diſ⯑courſe 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. Maſter⯑piece, 4to. 1662. Faithful Farrier, 8vo. 1667. Perfect Horſemanſhip, 12mo. 1671. In Huſban⯑dry he publiſhed Liebault's le Maiſon Ruſtique, or the Country Farm, folio, Lond. 1616. This Trea⯑tiſe, which was at firſt tranſlated by Mr. Richard Surfleit, a Phyſician, our author enlarged with ſe⯑veral 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 Huſban⯑dry, 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. [270] &c.—In Military Diſcipline he has publiſhed the Soldier's Accidence and Grammar, 4to. 1635. Be⯑ſides 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 Lang⯑baine, ‘"if not Unus in omnibus, at leaſt a bene⯑factor to the public, by thoſe works he left be⯑hind 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 ſtu⯑dy, 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 ob⯑ſervation 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 ac⯑quire a name in a profeſſion which demands ſo ma⯑ny 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.
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 prodigi⯑ous 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 Win⯑ſtanley 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 ta⯑vern, 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 [272] be plann'd, and perhaps partly compoſed in a ta⯑vern 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 ac⯑count of Heywood's being poor, and when his em⯑ployment is conſidered, it is almoſt impoſſible he could have been ſo; there is no neceſſity to ſup⯑poſe 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*. Langbaine ob⯑ſerves 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 ma⯑nifeſt. 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 bor⯑rowed from Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Seneca, Plau⯑tus, which extremely ſet them off."’ What opini⯑on the wits of his age had of him, may appear from the following verſes, extracted from of one of the poets of thoſe times‖.
[273] We have no account how much our author was diſtinguiſhed as an actor, and it may be rea⯑ſonably 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 vo⯑taries of the muſes, or are favoured by them, ſel⯑dom think worth their while, and is indeed be⯑neath their genius.
The following is a particular account of our au⯑thor's plays now extant:
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.
A Gentleman eminent for learning. The place of his birth, and his father's name, are dif⯑ferently aſſigned by authors, who have mentioned him. Mr. Loyd ſays†, that he was ſon of Tho⯑mas Cartwright of Burford in Oxfordſhire, and born Auguſt 16, in the year 1615; Mr. Wood§, that he was the ſon of William Cartwright, and born at Northway, near Tewkſbury in Glou⯑ceſterſhire 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 ſcho⯑lar, when compleating his former learning, under the care of Mr. Lambert Osbaldiſton, he was e⯑lected a ſtudent in Chriſt Church in Oxford, in 1628, under the tuition of Mr. Jerumael Terrent‖, having gone through the claſſes of logic and phi⯑loſophy with unwearied diligence, he took the de⯑grees 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.
[278] In 1642 he had the place of ſuccentor in the church of Salisbury, conferred on him by biſhop Duppa*, and in 1643 was choſen junior proctor of the univerſity; he was alſo metaphyſical read⯑er, and it was generally ſaid, that thoſe lectures were never performed better than by Mr. Cart⯑wright, and his predeceſſor Mr. Thomas Barlow of Queen's College, afterwards lord biſhop of Lin⯑coln§. This ingenious gentleman died of a ma⯑lignant fever, called the Camp-diſeaſe, which then reigned in Oxford, and was fatal to many of his cotemporaries, 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 endow⯑ments 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 lin⯑guiſt, underſtanding not only Greek and Latin, but French and Italian, as perfectly as his mo⯑ther 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 ſay⯑ing of Ariſtotle concerning Aeſchron the poet, ‘"that he could not tell what Aeſchron 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 print⯑ed together in 1651, to which are prefixed above [279] fifty copies of commendatory verſes by the moſt eminent wits of the univerſity.
Langbaine gives the following account of his plays;
Amongſt his poems, there are ſeveral con⯑cerning the dramatic poets, and their writings, which muſt not be forgot; as theſe two copies [280] which he wrote on Mr. Thomas Killegrew's plays, the Priſoner, and Claracilla; two cop [...]es on Fletch⯑er, and one in memory of Ben Johnſon, which are ſo excellent, that the publiſher of Mr. Cart⯑wright'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 La⯑tina. 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. Lon⯑don, 8vo. 1652. [...]d. 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 Congratula⯑tory Song on a Marriage, which is amorous, and ſpirited.
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 matricu⯑lated in the univerſity in the beginning of Decem⯑ber 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 un⯑der the Turkiſh empire, as Greece, Egypt, and the Holy Land*. 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 Eng⯑land, where digeſting his notes, he publiſhed his travels. Sandys, who appears to have been a man of excellent parts, of a pious and generous diſpo⯑ſition. 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 acquiſi⯑tion; but he ſtudied the genius, the tempers, the religion, and the governing principles of the peo⯑ple he viſited, as much as his time amongſt them would permit. He returned in 1612, being im⯑proved, ſays Wood, ‘'in ſeveral reſpects, by this his [283] 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 in⯑clination to all literature, which made his compa⯑ny 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.
Georgius Sandys, Poetarum Anglorum ſui ſaeculi Princeps, ſepultus fuit Martii 7o ſtilo Anglico. An⯑no Dom. 1643. It would be injurious to the me⯑mory of Sandys, to diſmiſs his life without in⯑forming 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 likewiſe 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 wor⯑thy, like another Livy, of having men of emi⯑nence 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 [285] tranſlation, he would by no means have attempted it after him.
In, the tranſlation of his Chriſtus Patiens, in the chorus of Act III.
In his tranſlation of Ovid, the verſes on Fame are thus engliſhed.
THE ſon of Henry, lord viſcount Falkland, was born at Burford in Oxfordſhire, about the year 1610*. 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 be⯑fore 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 com⯑mand, 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 be⯑fore he was twenty three years of age, he had pe⯑ruſed 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 Ma⯑jeſty's [287] Privy Chamber, notwithſtanding which he frequently retired to Oxford, to enjoy the con⯑verſation 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*.
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 Par⯑liament 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 lord⯑ſhip, 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‖.'’
He had contracted an averſion towards Arch⯑biſhop 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 [288] prejudice againſt Laud was, the extraordinary paſ⯑ſion and impatience of contradiction diſcoverable in that proud prelate; who could not command his temper, even at the Council Table when his Ma⯑jeſty 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 pow⯑ers, at the head of the oppoſit [...]on; 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 employ⯑ment with unſhaken integrity, being above cor⯑ruption of any kind.
When he was veſted with that high dignity, two parts of his conduct were very remark⯑able; he could never perſuade himſelf that it was lawful to employ ſpies, or give any countenance or entertainment to ſuch perſons, who by a com⯑munication of guilt, or diſſimulation of manners, wind themſelves into ſuch truſts and ſecrets, as en⯑able them to make diſcoveries; neither could he ever ſuffer himſelf to open letters, upon a ſuſpicion that they might contain matters of dangerous con⯑ſequence, and proper for ſtateſmen to know. As to the firſt he condemned them as void of all ho⯑nour, and who ought juſtly to be abandoned to in⯑famy, and that no ſingle preſervation could be worth ſo general a wound and corruption of ſoci⯑ty, as encouraging ſuch people would carry with it. The laſt, he thought ſuch a violation of the law [289] 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*
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 Edge-hill fight, where after the enemy was routed he was expoſed to imminent danger, by endeavour⯑ing 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 prin⯑ted, and exquiſitely bound. The Lord Falkland, to divert the King, would have him make a trial of his fortune by the Sortes Virgilianae, an uſual kind of divination in ages paſt, made by open⯑ing a Virgil. Whereupon the King opening the book, the period which happened to come up, was that part of Dido's imprecation againſt Aeneas, Aeneid. lib. 4. v. 615, part of which is thus tranſlated by Mr. Dryden,
[290] His Majeſty ſeemed much concerned at this ac⯑cident. 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 follow⯑ing expreſſions of Evander, on the untimely death of his ſon Pallas. Aeneid. b. 11. verſe 152, &c.
Thus tranſlated by Mr. Dryden:
Upon the beginning of the civil war, his na⯑tural chearfulneſs and vivacity was clouded, and a kind of ſadneſs and dejection of ſpirit ſtole up⯑on him. After the reſolution of the two houſes not to admit any treaty of peace, thoſe indiſpo⯑ſitions which had before touched him, grew into a [...]abit of gloomineſs; and he who had been ea⯑ſy 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 ablities, and ſo much buſineſs, he became negligent and ſlo⯑venly, [291] 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 ob⯑ſerves, ‘"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 per⯑ſuaded 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 in⯑to 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 incom⯑parable Lord Falkland, on whom all his con⯑temporaries beſtowed the moſt laviſh encomiums, and very deſervedly raiſed altars of praiſe to his memory. Among all his panegyriſt, 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) [292] was ſlain the Lord viſcount Falkland, a perſon of ſuch prodigious parts, of learning and know⯑ledge, 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 Sid⯑ney's, lord Falk [...]and's ſeems to be the moſt amia⯑ble, 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 eld⯑eſt 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.
[293] His works are chiefly theſe:
We ſhall preſent our readers with a ſpecimen of his lordſhip's poetry, in a copy of verſes addreſ⯑ſed to Grotius on his Chriſtus Patiens, a tragedy, tranſlated by Mr. Sandys.
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 conſti⯑tution. 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 circum⯑ſtances is true, it would ſeem as if he had learn⯑ed [295] Latin from his nurſe, nor ever heard any o⯑ther 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 ad⯑mired, were muſic and poetry; how far he ex⯑celled 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 num⯑bers, 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. Dry⯑den ſtiles him; but then he is no poet, notwith⯑ſtanding. His letters, which are publiſhed along with his plays, are exceeding courtly, his ſtile ea⯑ſy 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 ta⯑ken a ſurvey of the moſt remarkable things at home, he travelled to digeſt and enlarge his no⯑tions, from a view of other countries, where, ſays the above-mentioned author, he made a collecti⯑on 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 [296] 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 o⯑penneſs of his heart, the gaiety, wit and gal⯑lantry, 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 ſ [...]irmiſhes 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 o [...] [...], perſon, education, and fortune, peoples expectations of him were raiſed to too great a [297] heighth, which ſeldom fails to iſſue in a diſap⯑pointment. 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 fine⯑ry, which he affected in decorating his troop of horſe. This could not fail to draw down con⯑tempt 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 perſuming his hair, or arraying himſelf in embroidery.
Mr. Lloyd, in his memoirs of our author, ob⯑ſerves, that his thoughts were not ſo looſe as his expreſſions, nor his life ſo vain as his thoughts; and at the ſame time makes an allowance for his youth and ſanguine complexion; which, ſays he, a little more time and experience would have corrected. Of this, we have inſtances in his oc⯑caſional diſcourſes about religion to my Lord Dor⯑ſet, to whom he was related; and in his thoughts of the poſture of affairs; in both which he has diſcovered that he could think as coolly, and rea⯑ſon as juſtly as men of more years, and leſs fire.
The above are as ſmooth lines as could be found among our author's works; but in juſtice to Suckling, before we give an account of his plays, we ſhall tranſcribe one of his letters, when we are perſuaded the reader will join in the opi⯑nion already given of his works in general; it is addreſſed to his miſtreſs, and has ſomething in it gay and ſprightly.
This verifies the opinion of Mr. Dryden, that love makes a man a rhimſter, if not a poet.
‘"Think I have kiſſed your letter to nothing, and now know not what to anſwer; or that now I am anſwering, I am kiſſing you to no⯑thing, and know not how to go on! For you muſt pardon, I muſt hate all I ſend you here, becauſe it expreſſes nothing in reſpect of what it leaves behind with me. And oh! why ſhould I write then? Why ſhould I not come my⯑ſelf? Thoſe Tyrants, Buſineſs, Honour, and Ne⯑ceſſity, [299] what have they to do with with you, and me? Why ſhould we not do Love's Com⯑mands before theirs, whoſe Sovereignty is but uſurped upon us? Shall we not ſmell to Roſes, cauſe others do look on, or gather them be⯑cauſe there are Prickles, or ſomething that would hinder us?—Dear—I fain would and know no Hindrance—but what muſt come from you,—and—why ſhould any come? Since 'tis not I but you muſt be ſenſible how much Time we loſe, it being long ſince I was not myſelf,—but—’
His dramatic works are,
THIS gentleman was born at Oundle in Northamptonſhire, and received his educa⯑tion in Queen's- [...]ollege, Cambridge. After he had taken his degrees, he entered into holy or⯑ders, became curate of Uppingham in Rutland⯑ſhire; and according to Wood in his Faſti Oxon. was at length made rector of Hadham in Hertfordſhire. Upon the breaking out of the civil wars, he was made chaplain to Spencer Earl of Northampton, to whom he adhered in all his engagements for the Royal Intereſt, and was with him in the caſtle of Banbury in Oxfordſhire, when it was vigorouſly defended a⯑gainſt the Parliament's f [...]rces. In that caſtle Mr. Wood ſays, he concluded his laſt moments in the year 1645, and was buried within the precincts of it, or elſe in the church belonging to Ban⯑bury.
This perſon, whom both Langbaine and Wood account a very ingenious man, and an excellent poet, has written the following pieces:
This is a Poem, and the Title of it was given by King Charles I. who ſeeing it in Manuſcript, with the Title of a Sermon to the People, he altered it, and cauſed it to be called a Lecture, being much delighted with it.
This Author alſo tranſlated into Engliſh, Hymnus, Tobaci, &c. Lond. 1651, 8vo.
THIS gentleman was a native of Scotland, and a poet of no inconſiderable rank. We had at firſt ſome doubt whether he fell within our deſign, as being no Engliſhman, but upon ob⯑ſerving that Mr. Langbaine has given a place to the earl of Stirling, a man of much inferior note; and that our author, though a Scotchman, wrote extremely pure and elegant Engliſh, and his life, that is fruitful of a great many incidents, without further apology, it is here preſented to the reader.
He was born the 13th of November, 1585; his fa⯑ther was Sir John Drummond of Hawthornden, who was Gentleman Uſher to King James VI. but did not enjoy that place long, being in three months after he was raiſed to his new dignity, taken away by death*. The family of Drummond in the ar⯑cle of antiquity is inferior to none in Scotland, where that kind of diſtinction is very much re⯑garded.
The firſt years of our author's youth were ſpent at the high ſchool at Edinburgh, where the early promiſes of that extraordinary genius, which af⯑terwards appeared in him, became very conſpi⯑cuous. He was in due time ſent to the univerſi⯑ty of Edinburgh, where after the ordinary ſtay, he was made Maſter of Arts. When his courſe at the univerſity was finiſhed, he did not, like the greateſt part of giddy ſtudents, give over reading, and vainly imagine they have a ſufficient ſtock [303] of learning: he had too much ſenſe thus to deceive himſelf; he knew that an education at the univer⯑ſity is but the ground-work of knowledge, and that unleſs a man digeſts what he has there learned, and endeavours to produce it into life with advan⯑tage, ſo many years attendance were but entirely thrown away. Being convinced of this truth, he continued to read the beſt authors of antiquity, whom he not only retained in his memory, but ſo digeſted, that he became quite maſter of them, and able to make ſuch obſervations on their genius and writings, as fully ſhewed that his judgment had been ſufficiently exerciſed in reading them.
In the year 1606 his father ſent him into France, he being then only twenty-one years old. He ſtu⯑died at Bourges the civil law, with great dili⯑gence and applauſe, and was maſter not only of the dictates of the profeſſors, but made alſo his own ob⯑ſervations on them, which occaſioned the learned pre⯑ſident Lockhart to obſerve, that if Mr. Drummond had followed the practice, he might have made the beſt figure of any lawyer in his time; but like all o⯑ther men of wit, he ſaw more charms in Euri⯑pides, Sophocles, Seneca, and other the illuſtrious ancients, than in the dry wranglings of the law; as there have been often inſtances of poets, and men of genius being educated to the law, ſo here it may not be amiſs to obſerve, that we remem⯑ber not to have met with one amongſt them who continued in that profeſſion, a circumſtance not much in its favour, and is a kind of proof, that the profeſſors of it are generally compoſed of men who are capable of application, but without genius. Mr. Drummond having, as we have al⯑ready obſerved, a ſovereign contempt for the law, applied himſelf to the ſublimer ſtudies of poetry and hiſtory, in both which he became very emi⯑nent.
[304] Having relinquiſhed all thoughts of the bar, or appearing in public, he retired to his pleaſant ſeat at Hawthor [...]den, and there, by reading the Greek and Latin authors, enriched the world with the product of his ſolitary hours. After he had reco⯑vered a very dangerous fit of ſickneſs, he wrote his Cypreſs Grove, a piece of excellent proſe, both for the fineneſs of the ſtile, and the ſublimity and piety of the ſentiments: In which he repreſents the vanity and inſtability of human affairs; teaches a due contempt of the world; propoſes conſolations a⯑gainſt the fear of death, and gives us a view of eternal happineſs. Much about this time he wrote the Flowers of Sion in verſe. Though the num⯑bers in which theſe poems are wrote are not now very faſhionable, yet the harmony is excellent, and during the reign of King James and Charles I. we have met with no poet who ſeems to have had a better ear, or felt more intimately the paſſion he deſcribes. The writer of his life already men⯑tioned, obſerves, that notwithſtanding his cloſe re⯑tirement, love ſtole upon him, and entirely ſub⯑dued his heart. He needed not to have aſſigned retirement as a reaſon why it ſhould ſeem ſtrange that love grew upon him, ſor retirement in its own nature is the very parent of love. When a man converſes with but few ladies, he is apt to fall in love with her who charms him moſt; whereas were his attention diſſipated, and his af⯑fections bewildered by variety, he would be pre⯑ſerved from love by not being able to fix them; which is one reaſon why we always find people in the country have more enthuſiaſtic notions of love, than thoſe who move in the hurry of li [...]e. This beautiful young lady, with whom Mr. Drummond was enamoured, was daughter of Mr. Cunning⯑ham of Barnes, of an ancient and honourable family. He made his addreſſes to her in the true ſpirit of gallantry, and as he was a gentle⯑man [305] who had ſeen the world, and conſequently was accompliſhed in the elegancies of life, he was not long in exciting proper returns of paſſion; he gained her affections, and when the day of the marriage was appointed, and all things ready for its ſolemnization, ſhe was ſeized with a fever, and ſnatched from him, when his imagination had figured thoſe ſcenes of rapture which naturally fill the mind of a bridegroom. As our author was a poet, he no doubt was capable of forming ſtill a greater ideal fealt, than a man of ordina⯑ry genius, and as his miſtreſs was, as Rowe ex⯑preſſes it, ‘'more than painting can expreſs, or youthful poets fancy when they love,'’ thoſe who have felt that delicate paſſion, may be able in ſome meaſure to judge of the ſeverity of diſtreſs into which our poetical bridegroom was now plunged: After the fervours of ſorrow had in ſome meaſure ſubſided, he expreſſed his grief for her in ſeveral letters and poems, and with more paſſion and ſincerity celebrated his dead miſtreſs, than others praiſe their living ones. This extra⯑ordinary ſhock occaſioned by the young lady's death, on whom he doated with ſuch exceſſive fondneſs, ſo affected his ſpirits, that in order as much as poſ⯑ſible to endeavour to forget her, he quitted his retirement, and reſided eight years at Paris and Rome; he travelled through Germany, France and Italy, where he viſited all the famous univerſities, converſed with the learned men, and made an ex⯑cellent collection of the beſt ancient Greek, and of the modern Spaniſh, French, and Italian books. Mr. Drummond, though a ſcholar and a man of genius, did not think it beneath him to improve himſelf in thoſe gay accompliſhments which are ſo peculiar to the French, and which ne⯑ver fail to ſet off wit and parts to the beſt ad⯑vantage. He ſtudied muſic, and is reported to have [306] poſſeſſed the genteel accompliſhment of dancing, to no inconſiderable degree.
After a long ſtay of eight years abroad, he returned again to his native country, where a civil war was ready to break out. He then found that as he could be of no ſervice by his action, he might at leaſt by his retirement, and during the confuſion, he went to the ſeat of his Brother-in-law, Sir John Scott, of Scotts Tarvat, a man of learning and good ſenſe. In this interval it is ſuppoſed he wrote his Hiſ⯑tory of the Five James's, ſucceſſively Kings of Scotland, which is ſo excellent a work, whether we conſider the exact conduct of the ſtory, the judicious reflections, and the fine language, that no Hiſtorian either of the Engliſh or Scotch nation (the lord Clarendon excepted) has ſhewn a hap⯑pier talent for that ſpecies of writing, which tho' it does not demand the higheſt genius, yet is as difficult to attain, as any other kind of literary excellence. This work was received in England with as much applauſe, as if it had been written by a countryman of their own, and about Eng⯑liſh affairs. It was firſt publiſhed ſix or ſeven years after the author's death, with a preface, or introduction by Mr. Hall of Grays Inn, who, tho' not much diſpoſed to think favourably of the Scotch nation, has yet thus done juſtice to Mr. Drummond; for his manner of v [...]ting, ſays he, ‘"though he treats of things that are rather many than great, and rather troubleſome than glorious; yet he has brought ſo much of the main toge⯑ther, as it may be modeſtly ſaid, none of that nation has done before him, and for his way of handling it, he has ſufficiently made it appear, how converſant he was with the writings of ve⯑nerable antiquity, and how generouſly he has emulated them by a happy imitation, for the purity of that language is much above the di⯑alect [307] he wrote in; his deſcriptions lively and full, his narrations clear and pertinent, his ora⯑tions eloquent, and fit for the perſons who ſpeak, and his reflections ſolid and mature, ſo that it cannot be expected that theſe leaves can be turned over without as much pleaſure as pro⯑fit, eſpecially meeting with ſo many glories, and trophies of our anceſtors."’ In this hiſto⯑ry Mr. Drummond has chiefly followed biſhop El⯑phiſton, and has given a different turn to things from Buchanan, whom a party of the Scotch ac⯑cuſe of being a penſioner of Queen Elizabeth's, and as he joined intereſt with the earl of Mur⯑ray, who wanted to diſturb the reign of his much injured ſiſter Mary Queen of Scots, he is ſtrongly ſuſpected of being a party writer, and of having miſrepreſented the Scotch tranſactions of old, in or⯑der to ſerve ſome ſcheme of policy.
In the ſhort notes which Mr. Drummond has left behind him in his own life, he ſays, that he was the firſt in the iſland that ever celebrated a dead miſtreſ; his poems conſiſt chiefly of Love-Verſes, Madigrals, Epigrams, Epitaphs, &c. they were highly eſteemed by his contemporaries both for the wit and learning that ſhone in them. Ed⯑ward Philips, Milton's nephew, writes a preface to them, and obſerves, ‘'that his poems are the effects of genius, the moſt polite and verdant that ever the Scots nation produced, and ſays, that if he ſhould affirm, that neither Taſſo, Guarini, or any of the moſt neat and refined ſpirits of Italy, nor even the choiceſt of our Engliſh poets can chalienge any advantage above him, it could not be judged any attribute ſuperior to what he deſerves; and for his hiſtory he ſays, had there been nothing elſe extant of his writings, conſider but the language how florid and ornate it is; conſider the order and prudent conduct of the ſtory, and you will rank him in the num⯑ber [308] of the beſt writers, and compare him even with Thuanus himſelf: Neither is he leſs happy in his verſe than proſe, for here are all thoſe graces met together, that conduce any thing to⯑wards the making up a compleat and perfect po⯑et, a decent and becoming majeſty, a brave and admirable heighth, and a wit flowing.'’ Thus far the teſtimony of Mr. Philips.
In order to divert himſelf and his friends, he wrote a ſmall poem which he called Polemio-Middinia; 'tis a ſort of Macronic poetry, in which the Scots words are put in Latin terminations. In Queen Anne's time it was reprinted at Oxford, with a preface concern⯑ing Macronic poetry. It has been often reprinted in Scotland, where it is thought a very humo⯑rous performance.
Our author, who we have already ſeen, ſuffered ſo much by the immature fate of his firſt miſtreſs, thought no more of love for many years after her de⯑ceaſe, but ſeeing by accident one Elizabeth Logan, grandchild to Sir Robert Logan, who by the great reſemblance ſhe bore to his firſt favourite, rekindled again the flame of love; ſhe was beautiful in his eyes becauſe ſhe recalled to his mind the dear image of her he mourned, and by this lucky ſimilarity ſhe captivated him. Though he was near 45 years of age, he married this lady; ſhe bore to him ſe⯑veral children; William, who was knighted in Charles II's time; Robert, and Elizabeth, who was married to one Dr. Henderſon, a phyſician at Edinburgh.
In the time of the public troubles, Mr. Drummond, beſides compoſing his hiſtory, wrote ſeveral tracts a⯑gainſt the meaſures of the covenanters, and thoſe en⯑gaged in the oppoſition of Charles I. In a piece of his called Irene, he harangues the King, nobility, gentry, clergy and commons, about their mutual miſtakes, jealouſies and fears; he lays before them the diſmal conſequences of a civil war, from indiſputa⯑ble [309] arguments, and the hiſtories of paſt times. The great marquis of Montroſe writ a letter to him, deſiring him to print this Irene, as the beſt means to quiet the minds of the diſtracted people; he likewiſe ſent him a protection, dated Au⯑guſt, 1645, immediately after the battle of Kyl⯑ſyth, with another letter, in which he highly commends Mr. Drummond's learning and loyalty. Beſides this work of Irene, he wrote the Load Star, and an Addreſs to the Noblemen, Barons, Gentlemen, &c. who leagued themſelves for the defence of the liberties and religion of Scotland, the whole purport of which is, to calm the diſturbed minds of the populace, to reaſon the better ſort into loyalty, and to check the growing evils which he ſaw would be the conſequence of their beha⯑viour. Thoſe of his own countrymen, for whom he had the greateſt eſteem, were Sir William Alex⯑ander, afterwards earl of Stirling, Sir Robert Carr, afterwards earl of Ancram, from whom the preſent marquis of Lothian is deſcended, Dr. Ar⯑thur Johnſton, phyſician to King Charles I. and author of a Latin Paraphraſe of the Pſalms, and Mr. John Adamſon, principal of the college of Edinburgh. He had great intimacy and corre⯑ſpondence with the two famous Engliſh poets, Michael Drayton, and Ben Johnſon, the latter of whom travelled from London on foot, to ſee him at his ſeat at Hawthornden. During the time Ben remained with Mr. Drummond, they often held converſation about poetry and poets, and Mr. Drummond has preſerved the heads of what paſſed between them; and as part of it is very curious, and ſerves to illuſtrate the cha⯑racter of Johnſon, we have inſerted it in his life: though it perhaps was not altogether fair in Mr. Drummond, to commit to writing things that paſſed over a bottle, and which perhaps were heedleſly advanced. It is certain ſome of the par⯑ticulars [310] which Mr. Drummond has preſerved, are not much in Ben's favour, and as few people are ſo wiſe as not to ſpeak imprudently ſometimes, ſo it is not the part of a man, who invites another to his table, to expoſe what may there drop inadvertent⯑ly; but as Mr. Drummond had only made memo⯑randums, perhaps with no reſolution to publiſh them, he may ſtand acquitted of part of this charge. It is reported of our author that he was very ſmart, and witty in his repartecs, and had a moſt excellent talent at extempore verſifying, above any po [...]t of his time. In the year 1645, when the plague was raging in Scotland, our author came accidentally to Forfar, but was not allowed to enter any houſe, or to get lodging in the town, though it was very late; he went two miles ſurther to Kirrimeir, where he was well received, and kindly entertained. Being informed that the towns of Forfar and Kirrimuir had a conteſt a⯑bout a piece of ground called the Muirmoſs, he wrote a letter to the Provoſt of Forfar, to be com⯑municated to the town-council in [...]haſte: It was imagined this letter came from the Eſtates, who were then ſitting at St. Andrew's; ſo the Com⯑mon-Council was called with all expedition, and the miniſter ſent for to pray for direction and aſ⯑ſiſtance in anſwering the letter, which was opened in a ſolemn manner. It contained the following lines,
By this innocent piece of mirth he revenged himſelf on the town of Forfar. As our author was [311] a great cavalier, and addicted to the King's party, he was forced by the reformers to ſend men to the army which fought againſt the King, and his eſtate lying in three different counties, he had not occaſion to ſend one entire man, but halves, and quarters, and ſuch like fractions, that is, the money levied upon him as his ſhare, did not amount to the maintaining one man, but perhaps half as much, and ſo on through the ſeveral counties, where his eſtates lay; upon this he wrote the following verſes to the King.
Being reputed a malignant, he was extremely harraſſed by the prevailing party, and for his verſes and diſcourſes frequently ſummoned before their circular tables. In the ſhort account of his life written by himſelf, he ſays, ‘'that he never en⯑deavoured to advance his fortune, or increaſe ſuch things as were left him by his parents, as he foreſaw the uncertainty and ſhortneſs of life, and thought this world's advantages not worth ſtruggling for.'’ The year 1649. remarkable for the beheading of Charles I. put likewiſe a period to the life of our author: Upon hearing the diſmal news that his Sovereign's blood was ſhed on a ſcaffold, he was ſo overwhelmed with grief, and being worn down with ſtudy, he could not over⯑come the ſhock, and though we find not that he ever was in arms for the King, yet he may be ſaid, in ſome ſenſe, to have fallen a ſacri⯑fice to his loyalty. He was a man of fine natural [312] endowments, which were cultivated by reading and travelling; he ſpoke the Italian, Spaniſh, and French languages as well as his mother tongue; he was a judicious and great hiſtorian, a delicate poet, a maſter of polite erudition, a loyal ſubject, a friend to his country, and to ſum up all, a pious chriſtian.
Before his works are prefixed ſeveral copies of verſes in his praiſe, with which we ſhall not trouble the reader, but conclude the life of this great man, with the following ſonnet from his works, as a ſpecimen of the delicacy of his muſe.
IT is agreed by the antiquaries of Scotland, where this nobleman was born, that his family was originally a branch of the Macdonalds. A⯑lexander Macdonald, their anceſtor, obtained from the family of Argyle a grant of the lands of Menſtry, in Clackmananſhire, where they fixed their reſidence, and took their ſirnames from the Chriſtian name of their predeceſſor*. Our author was born in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and during the minority of James VI. of Scotland, but on what year cannot be aſcertained; he gave ear⯑ly diſcoveries of a riſing genius, and much im⯑proved the fine parts he had from nature, by a very polite and extenſive education. He firſt tra⯑velled abroad as tutor to the earl of Argyle, and was a conſiderable time with that nobleman, while they viſited foreign countries. After his return, being happy in ſo great a patron as the earl of Argyle, and finiſhed in all the courtly accom⯑pliſhments, he was careſſed by perſons of the firſt faſhion, while he yet moved in the ſphere of a pri⯑vate gentleman.
Mr. Alexander having a ſtrong propenſity to poetry, he declined entering upon any public em⯑ployment for ſome years, and dedicated all his time to the reading of the ancient poets, upon which he formed his taſte, and whoſe various graces he ſeems to have underſtood. King James [314] of Scotland, who with but few regal qualities, yet cer⯑tainly had a propenſion to literature, and was an encourager of learned men, took Mr. Alexander early into his favour. He accepted the poems our author preſented him, with the moſt condeſcending marks of eſteem, and was ſo warm in his intereſt, that in the year 1614, he created him a knight, and by a kind of compulſion, obliged him to ac⯑cept the place of Maſter of the Requeſts§; but the King's bounty did not ſtop here: Our author having ſettled a colony in Nova Scotia in America, at his own expence, James made him a grant of it, by his Royal Deed, on the 21ſt of September, 1621, and intended to have erected the order of Baronet, for encouraging and advancing ſo good a work; but the three laſt years of that prince's reign being rendered troubleſome to him, by reaſon of the jealouſies and commotions which then ſubſiſted in England, he thought fit to ſuſpend the further proſecution of that affair, 'till a more favourable criſis, which he lived not to ſee.
As ſoon as King Charles I. aſcended the throne, who inherited from his father the warmeſt affection for his native country, he endeavoured to promote that deſign, which was likely to produce ſo great a benefit to the nation, and therefore created Sir William Alexander Lord Lieutenant of New Scot⯑land, and inſtituted the order of Knight Baronet, for the encouraging, and advancing that colony, and gave him the power of coining ſmall copper money, a privilege which ſome diſcontented Britiſh ſubjects complained of with great bitterneſs; but his Majeſty, who had the higheſt opinion of the integrity and abilities of Sir William, did not on that account withdraw his favour from him, but rather encreaſed it; for in the year 1626 he made him Secretary of State for Scotch affairs, in place [315] of the earl of Haddington, and a Peer, by the title of Viſcount Stirling, and ſoon after raiſed him to the dignity of an Earl, by Letters Patent, dated June 14, 1633, upon the ſolemnity of his Majeſty's Co⯑ronation at the Palace of Holy-rood-houſe in E⯑dinburgh. His lordſhip enjoyed the place of ſe⯑cretary with the moſt unblemiſhed reputation, for the ſpace of fifteen years, even to his death, which happened on the 12th of February, 1640.
Our author married the daughter of Sir William Erſkine, Baronet, couſin german to the earl of Marr, then Regent of Scotland; by her he had one ſon, who died his Majeſty's Reſident in Nova Scotia in the life time of his father, and left be⯑hind him a ſon who ſucceeded his grandfather in the title of earl of Stirling.
His lordſhip is author of four plays, which he ſtiles Monarchic Tragedies, viz. The Alexandraean Tragedy, Craeſus, Darius, and Julius Caeſar, all which in the opinion of the ingenious Mr. Coxeter (whoſe indefatigable induſtry in collecting materi⯑als for this work, which he lived not to publiſh, has furniſhed the preſent Biographers with many circumſtances they could not otherwiſe have known) were written in his lordſhip's youth, and before he undertook any ſtate employment.
Theſe plays are written upon the model of the ancients, as appears by his introducing the Chorus between the Acts; they are grave and ſententious throughout, like the Tragedies of Seneca, and yet the ſofter and tender paſſions are ſometimes very delicately touched. The author has been very un⯑happy in the choice of his verſe, which is alter⯑nate, like the quatrains of the French poet Pi⯑brach, or Sir William Davenant's heroic poem call⯑ed Gondibert, which kind of verſe is certainly un⯑natural for Tragedy, as it is ſo much removed from proſe, and cannot have that beautiful ſimplicity, [316] that tender pathos, which is indiſpenſible to the language of tragedy; Mr. Rymer has criticiſed with great judgment on this error of our author, and ſhewn the extreme abſurdity of writing plays in rhime, notwithſtanding the great authority of Dryden can be urged in its defence.
Writing plays upon the model of the ancients, by introducing choruſſes, can be defended with as little force. It is the nature of a tragedy to warm the heart, rouze the paſſions, and fire the imagination, which can never be done, while the ſtory goes languidly on. The ſoul cannot be agi⯑tated unleſs the buſineſs of the play riſes gradu⯑ally, the ſcene be kept buſy, and leading characters active: we cannot better illuſtrate this obſervation, than by an example.
One of the b [...]ſt poets of the preſent age, the ingenio [...]s Mr. Maſon of Cambridge, has not long ago publiſhed a Tragedy upon the model of the ancients, called Elfrida; the merit of this piece, as a poem has been confeſſed by the general read⯑ing it has obtained; it is full of beauties; the lan⯑guage is perfectly poetical, the ſentiments chaſte, and the moral excellent; there is nothing in our tongue can much exceed it in the flowry enchant⯑ments of poetry, or the delicate flow of numbers, but while we admire the poet, we pay no regard to the character; no paſſion is excited, the heart is never moved, nor is the reader's curioſity ever raiſed to know the event. Want of paſſion and regard to character, is the error of our preſent dra⯑matic poets, and it is a true obſervation made by a gentleman in an occaſional prologue, ſpeaking of the wits from Char [...]es II. to our own times, he ſays,
[317] But to return to our author's plays;
The Alexandraean Tragedy is built upon the differences about the ſucceſſion, that roſe between Alexander's captains after his deceaſe; he has borrowed many thoughts, and tranſlated whole ſpeeches from Seneca, Virgil, &c. In this play his lordſhip ſeems to miſtake the very eſſence of the drama, which conſiſts in action, for the [...]e is ſcarce one action performed in view of the audi⯑ence, but ſeveral perſons are introduced upon the ſtage, who relate atchievements done by themſelves and others: the two firſt acts are entirely foreign to the buſineſs of the play. Upon the whole it muſt be allowed that his lordſhip was a very good hiſtorian, for the reader may learn from it a great deal of the affairs of Greece and Rome; for the plot ſee Quintus Curtius, the thirteenth Book of Juſtin, Diodorus Siculus, Joſephus, Raleigh's Hiſtory, &c. The Scene is in Babylon.
Craeſus, a Tragedy; the Scene of this Play is laid in Sardis, and is reckoned the moſt moving of the four; it is chiefly borrowed from Herodotus, Clio, Juſtin, Plutarch's Life of Solon, Salian, Tor⯑niel. In the fifth Act there is an Epiſode of A⯑bradates and Panthaea, which the author has taken from Xenophon's Cyropaedeia, or The Life and Education of Cyrus, lib. vii. The ingenious Scu⯑dery has likewiſe built upon this foundation, in his diverting Romance called the Grand Cyrus.
Darius, a Tragedy; this was his lordſhip's firſt dramatic performance; it was printed at Edin⯑burgh in 4to. in the year 1603; it was firſt com⯑poſed of a mixture of Engliſh and Scotch dialect, and even then was commended by ſeveral copies of verſes. The Scene of this Play is laid in Baby⯑lon. The author afterwards not only poliſhed his native language, but altered the Play itſelf; as to the plot conſult Q. Curtius, Diodorus Siculus, Juſtin, Plutarch's Life of Alexander, &c.
[318] Julius Caeſar, a Tragedy. In the fifth Act of this Play, my lord brings Brutus, Caſſius, Cicero, An⯑thony, &c. together, after the death of Caeſar, almoſt in the ſame circumſtances Shakeſpear has done in his Play of this name; but the difference between the Anthony and Brutus of Shakeſpear, and theſe characters drawn by the earl of Stirling, is as great, as the genius of the former tranſcended the latter. This is the moſt regular of his lord⯑ſhip's plays in the unity of action. The ſtory of this Play is to be found in all the Roman Hiſto⯑ries written ſince the death of that Emperor.
His lordſhip has acknowledged the ſtile of his dramatic works not to be p [...]re, for which in ex⯑cuſe he has pleaded his country, the Scotch dialect then being in a very imperfect ſtate. Having men⯑tioned the Scotch dialect, it will not be improper to obſerve, that it is at this time much in the ſame degree of perfection, that the Engliſh language was, in the reigns of Henry VIII. and Queen Eli⯑zabeth; there are idioms peculiar to the Scotch, which ſome of their beſt writers have not been able entirely to forget, and unleſs they reſide in England for ſome time, they ſeldom overcome them, and their language is greatly obſcured by theſe means; but the reputation which ſome Scotch writers at preſent enjoy, make it ſufficiently clear, that they are not much wanting in perſpicuity or elegance, of which Mr. Hume, the ingenious author of Eſ⯑ſays Moral and Political, is an inſtance. In the particular quality of fire, which is indiſpenſible in a good writer, the Scotch authors have rather too much of it, and are more apt to be extravagantly animated, than correctly dull.
Beſides theſe Plays, our author wrote ſeveral other Poems of a different kind, viz. Doomſday, or the Great Day of the Lord's Judgment, firſt printed 1614, and a Poem divided into 12 Book, which the author calls Hours; In this Poem is the following emphatic [319] line, when ſpeaking of the divine vengeance fall⯑ing upon the wicked; he calls it
A very ingenious gentleman of Oxford, in a converſation with the author of this Life, took occaſion to mention the above line as the beſt he had ever read conſiſting of monyſyllables, and is indeed one of the moſt affecting lines to be met with in any poet. This Poem, ſays Mr. Coxeter, ‘'in his MS. notes, was reprinted in 1720, by A. John⯑ſton, who in his preface ſays, that he had the honour of tranſmitting the author's works to the great Mr. Addiſon, for the peruſal of them, and he was pleaſed to ſignify his approbation in theſe candid terms, That he had read them with the greateſt ſatisfaction, and was pleaſed to give it as his judgment, that the beauties of our an⯑cient Engliſh poets are too ſlightly paſſed over by the modern writers, who, out of a peculiar ſingularity, had rather take pains to find fault, than endeavour to excel.'’
A Paraenaeſis to Prince Henry, who dying be⯑fore it was publiſhed, it was afterwards dedicated to King Charles I.†.
Jonathan; intended to be an Heroic Poem, but the firſt Book of it is only extant. He wrote all theſe Poems in the Ottavo Rima of Taſſo, or a Stanza of eight lines, ſix interwoven, and a Couplet in Baſe. His Plays and Poems were all printed together in folio, under the title of Recreations with the Muſes, 1637, and dedicated to the King.
The earl of Stirling lived in friendſhip with the moſt eminent wits of his time, except Ben John⯑ſon, [320] who complained that he was neglected by him; but there are no particulars preſerved concern⯑ing any quarrel between them.
My lord ſeems to have often a peculiar incli⯑nation to punning, but this was the character⯑iſtic vice of the times. That he could ſometimes write in a very elegant ſtrain will appear by the following lines, in which he deſcribes love.
THIS prelate was born, according to his own account, July 11, 1574, in Briſtow-Park, within the pariſh of Aſhby de la Zouch, a town in Leiceſterſhire*. His father was an officer under Henry Earl of Huntingdon, preſident of the North, who from his infancy had devoted him to the ſervice of the church; and his mother, whom he has celebrated for her exemplary and diſtinguiſhed piety, was extremely ſollicitous that her favourite ſon ſhould be of a profeſſion, ſhe herſelf held ſo much in vene⯑ration. Our author, who ſeems to have been very credulous in his diſpoſition, rather religious than wiſe, or poſſeſſing any attainments equal to the dig⯑nity to which he roſe, has preſerved in his Specialities, ſome viſions of his mother's, which he relates with an air of ſeriouſneſs, ſufficient to evidence his own [321] conviction of their reality; but as they appear to have been the offspring of a diſordered imagination, they have no right to a place here.
In order to train him up to the miniſtry, his fa⯑ther at firſt reſolved to place him under the care of one Mr. Pelſet, lately come from Cambridge to be the public preacher at Leiceſter, who undertook to give him an education equally finiſhed with that of the univerſity, and by theſe means ſave much ex⯑pence to his father: This reſolution, however, was not executed, ſome other friends adviſing his fa⯑ther to ſend him to Cambridge, and perſuaded him that no private tuition could poſſibly be equal to that of the academical. When our author had remained ſix years at Cambridge, he had a right to preferment, and to ſtand for a fellowſhip, had not his tutor Mr. Gi [...]by been born in the ſame county with him, and the ſtatutes not permitting two of the ſame ſhire to enjoy fellowſhips, and as Mr. Gilby was ſenior to our author, and already in poſſeſſion, Mr. Hall could not be promoted. In con⯑ſequence of this, he propoſed to remove, when the Earl of Huntingdon, being made acquaint⯑ed with this circumſtance, and hearing very favour⯑able accounts of our author, intereſted himſelf to pre⯑vent his removal. He made application to Mr. Gil⯑by, promiſed to make him his chaplain, and pro⯑mote him in the church, provided he would re⯑linquiſh his place in the college, in favour of Mr. Hall. Theſe promiſes being made with ſeeming ſincerity, and as the Earl of Huntingdon was a man of reputation for probity, he complied with his lordſhip's requeſt, and relinquiſhed his place in the college. When he was about to enter upon his office of chaplain, to his great mortification, the nobleman on whoſe promiſes he confided, and on whom he immediately depended, ſuddenly died, by which accident he was thrown unprovided upon the world. This not a little affected Mr. Hall, who was [322] ſhocked to think that Mr. Gilby ſhould be thus diſ⯑treſſed, by the generoſity of his temper, which ex⯑cited him to quit a certainty in order to make way for his promotion. He addreſſed Dr. Chadderton, then the maſter of the college, that the ſucceeding election might be ſtopped, and that Mr. Gilby ſhould again poſſeſs his place; but in this requeſt he was unſucceſsful: for the Doctor told him, that Mr. Gilby was diveſted of all poſſibilty of remedy, and that they muſt proceed in the election the day following; when Mr. Hall was unanimouſly choſen into that ſociety. Two years after this, he was cho⯑ſen Rhetorician to the public ſchools, where, as he himſelf expreſſes it, ‘"he was encouraged with a ſufficient frequence of auditors;"’ but this place be ſoon reſigned to Dr. Dod, and entered upon ſtu⯑dies neceſſary to qualify him for taking orders.
Some time after this, the maſterſhip of a famous ſchool erected at Tiverton in Devon, became vacant; this ſchool was endowed by the founder Mr. Blundel, with a very large penſion, and the care of it was prin⯑cipally caſt upon the then Lord Chief Juſtice Popham. His lordſhip being intimately acquainted with Dr. Chadderton, requeſted him to recommend ſome learned and prudent man for the government of that ſchool. The Dr. recommended Mr. Hall, aſ⯑ſuring him that great advantage would ariſe from it, without much trouble to himſelf: Our author thinking proper to accept this, the Doctor carried him to London, and introduced him to Lord Chief Juſtice Popham, who ſeemed well pleaſed and thanked Dr. Chadderton for recommending a man ſo well qualified for the charge. When Dr. Chadderton and Mr. Hall had taken leave of his lordſhip and were returning to their lodg⯑ings, a meſſenger preſented a letter to Mr. Hall, from lady Drury of Suffolk, earneſtly requeſting him to accept the rectory of Halſted, a place in [323] her gift. This flow of good fortune not a little ſurprized him, and as he was governed by the max⯑ims of prudence, he made no long heſitation in accepting the latter, which was both a better be⯑nefice, and a higher preferment. Being ſettled at Halſted, he found there a dangerous antagoniſt to his miniſtry, whom he calls in his Specialities, a witty, and a bold Atheiſt: ‘"This was one Mr. Lilly, who by reaſon of his travels, (ſays he) and abilities of diſcourſe and behaviour, had ſo deeply inſinuated himſelf into my patron, that there were ſmall hopes for me to work any good upon that noble patron of mine; who by the ſuggeſtion of this wicked detractor, was ſet off from me before he knew me. Hereupon, I confeſs, finding the obduredneſs, and hopeleſs con⯑dition of that man, I bent my prayers againſt him, beſeeching God daily, that he would be pleaſed to remove by ſome means or other, that apparent hindrance of my faithful labours; who gave me an anſwer accordingly. For this malicious man going haſtily up to London, to exaſperate my patron againſt me, was then and there ſwept away by the peſtilence, and never returned to do any further miſchief."’ This account given by Mr. Hall of his antagoniſt, reflects no great honour upon himſelf: it is conceived in a ſpirit of bitterneſs, and there is more of ſpite a⯑gainſt Lilly's perſon in it, than any tenderneſs or pity for his errors. He calls him a witty Atheiſt, when in all probability, what he terms atheiſm, was no more than a freedom of thinking, and facetious converſation, which to the pious church⯑man, had the appearance of denying the exiſtence of God; beſides, had Hall dealt candidly, he ſhould have given his readers ſome more particulars of a man whom he was bold enough to denominate an Atheiſt, a character ſo very ſingular, that it ſhould ne⯑ver be imputed to any man, without the ſtrongeſt [324] grounds. Hall in his uſual ſpirit of enthu [...]ſm, in order to remove this antagoniſt of his, has re⯑courſe to a [...]: He tells us, he went up to L [...]ndon and died of the Plague, which he would have us to underſtand was by the immediate [...] as if it were not ridiculous to [...] o [...]r author of ſo great importance, as that the Sup [...]eme Being ſhould work a miracle in his favour; bu [...] as it is with natural ſo is it with ſpiritua [...] prid [...], thoſe who are poſſeſſed by either, ne⯑ver f [...]il to over-rate their own ſignificance, and juſtly expoſe themſelves to the contempt of the ſober part of mankind.
Our author has alſo given us ſome accountof his marriage, with the daughter of Mr. George Win⯑niff, of Bretenham; he ſays of her, that much mo⯑deſty, piety, and good [...]ſpoſition were lodged in her ſeemly preſence. She was recommended to him, by the Rev. Mr. Grandig his friend, and he ſays, he liſtened to the recommendation, as from the Lord, whom he frequently conſulted by prayer, be⯑fore he entered into the matrimonial ſtate. She lived with him 49 yea [...]s.
Not long after Mr. Hall's ſettlement at Halſted, he was ſollicited by Sir Edmund Bacon to accom⯑pany him in a journey to the Spain Ardenna, at the time when the Earl of H [...]rtford went ambaſſador to the archduke Albert of Bruſſels. This requeſt Mr. Hall complied with, as it furniſhed him with an opportunity of ſeeing more of the world, and gra⯑tified a deſire he had of converſing with the Romiſh Jeſuits. The particulars of his journey, which he has preſerved in his Specialities, are too trifling to be here inſerted: When he came to Bruſſels, he was introduced by an Engliſh gentleman, who prac⯑tiſed phyſic there, to the acquaintance of father Coſ⯑trus, who held ſome converſation with him concern⯑ing the miracies ſaid to be lately done, by one [325] Lipſieus Apricollis, a woman who lived at Zichem. From particular miracles, the father turned the diſ⯑courſe to the difference between divine and diabo⯑lical miracles; and he told Mr. Hall, that if he could aſcertain that one miracle ever was wrought in the church of England, he would embrace that perſuaſion: To which our author replied, that he was fully convinced, that many devils had been ejected out of perſons in that church by faſting and prayer. They both believed the poſſibility and frequency of miracles; they only differed as to the church in which miracles were performed. Hall has cenſured father Coſtrus, as a barren man, and of ſuperficial converſation; and it is to be feared, that whoever reads Hall's religious works will conclude much in the ſame manner of him. They depar⯑ted from Bruſſels ſoon after this interview between father Coſtrus and our author, and met with no⯑thing in their journey to and return from the Spa, worth relation, only Mr. Hall had by his zeal in defending his own church, expoſed himſelf to the reſentment of one Signior Aſcanio Negro, who be⯑gan notwithſtanding Mr. Hall's lay-habit, to ſuſpect him to be a clergyman, and uſe ſome indecent free⯑doms with him in conſequence of this ſuſpicion. Our author to avoid any impertinence which the captain was likely to be guilty of towards him, told him, Sir Edmund Bacon, the perſon with whom he travelled, was the grandchild of the great lord Verulam, High Chancellor of England, whoſe fame was extended to every country where ſcience and philoſophy prevailed, and that they were protected by the earl of Hertford, the Eng⯑liſh embaſſador at Bruſſels. Upon the Italian's be⯑ing made acquainted with the quality of Sir Ed⯑mund, and the high connections of the two travel⯑lers, he thought proper to deſiſt from any acts of impertinence, to which bigotry and ignorance would have excited him.
[326] Hall returned to England after being ab⯑ſent eighteen months, and was received but coldly by Sir Robert Drury his patron; there having never been much friendſhip between them. In conſequence of this, Mr. Hall came to Lon⯑don, in ſearch of a more comfortable proviſion; he was ſoon recommended by one Mr. Gurrey, tu⯑tor to the Earl of Eſſex, to preach before Prince Henry at Richmond. Before this accident Mr. Hall had been author of ſome Meditations, whom Mr. Gurrey told him, had been well received at Henry's court, and much read by that promiſing young Prince. He preached with ſucceſs, for the Prince deſired to hear him a ſecond time, and was ſo well pleaſed with him, that he ſignified an inclination of having him attend about his court. Mr. Hall's reputation growing, he was ta⯑ken notice of by perſons of faſhion, and ſoon ob⯑tained the living of Waltham, preſented him by the Earl of Norwich.
While he exerciſed his function at Waltham, the archdeacon of Norwich engaged him to in⯑tereſt himſelf in favour of the church of Wolver⯑hampton, from which a patrimony was detained by a ſacrilegious conveyance. In the courſe of this proſecution, our author obſerves, ‘"that a mar⯑vellous light opened itſelf unexpectedly, by re⯑vealing a counterſeit ſeal, in the manifeſtation of razures, and interpolations, and miſdates of un⯑juſtifiable evidences, that after many years ſuit, Lord Chancellor Elleſmere, upon a full hearing, gave a decree in ſavour of the church."’
During Mr. Hall's reſidence at Waltham, he was thrice employed by his Majeſty in public ſer⯑vice. His firſt public employment was to attend the Earl of Carliſle, who went on an embaſſy to France, and during his abſence his Majeſty conferred up⯑on him the deanery of Worceſter. Upon his re⯑turn, [327] he attended the King in a journey to Scot⯑land, where he exerted himſelf in ſupport of epiſco⯑pacy, in oppoſition to the eſtabliſhed miniſtry there, who were Preſbyterians. Having acquired ſome name in polemical divinity, and being long ac⯑cuſtomed to diſputations, the King made choice of him to go to the Netherlands, and aſſiſt at the ſy⯑nod of Dort, in ſettling the controverted points of faith, for which that reverend body were there convened. Hall has been very laviſh in his own praiſe, while he acted at the ſynod of Dort; he has given many hints of the ſupernatural aſſiſtance he was bleſſed with: he has informed us, that he was then in a languiſhing ſtate of health; that his reſt was broken, and his nights ſleepleſs; but on the night preceding the occaſion of his preaching a Latin ſermon to the ſynod, he was favoured with refreſhing ſleep, which he aſcribes to the imme⯑diate care of providence. The ſtates of Holland, he ſays, ‘"ſent Daniel Heinſius the poet to viſit him, and were ſo much delighted with his com⯑portment, that they preſented him with a rich medal of gold, as a monument of their reſ⯑pect for his poor endeavours."’ Upon our au⯑thor's returning home, he found the church torn to pieces, by the ſierce contentions which then ſubſiſted concerning the doctrines of Arminius: he ſaw this with concern, and was ſenſible true religion, piety, and virtue, could never be pro⯑moted by ſuch altercation; and therefore with the little power of which he was maſter, he endea⯑voured to effect a reconciliation between the con⯑tending parties: he wrote what he calls a project of pacification, which was preſented to his Majeſty, and would have had a very happy influence, had not the enemies of Mr. Hall miſrepreſented the book, and ſo far influenced the King, that a royal edict for a gene ral inhibition, buried it in ſilence. Hall after this [328] contended with the Roman Catholics, who upon the proſpect of the Spaniſh match, on the ſucceſs of which they built their hopes, began to betray a great degree of inſolence, and proudly boaſt the pedigree of their church, from the apoſtles them⯑ſelves. They inſiſted, that as their church was the firſt, ſo it was the beſt, and that no ordination was valid which was not derived from it. Hall in anſwer to their aſſertions, made a conceſſion, which ſome of his Proteſtant brethren thought he had no right to do; he acknowledged the prio⯑rity of the Roman Church, but denied its infallibility, and conſequently that it was poſſible another church might be more pure, and approach more to the apoſtolic practice than the Romiſh. This contro⯑verſy he managed ſo ſucceſsfully, that he was pro⯑moted to the ſee of Exeter; and as King James I. ſeldom knew any bounds to his generoſity, when he happened to take a perſon into his favour, he ſoon after that removed him from Exeter, and gave him the higher biſhoprick of Norwich; which he enjoyed not without ſome allay to his happineſs, for the civil wars ſoon breaking out, he underwent the ſame ſeverities which were ex⯑erciſed againſt other prelates, of which he has given an account in a piece prefixed to his works, called, Hall's hard Meaſure: and from this we ſhall extract the moſt material circum⯑ſtances.
The inſolence of ſome churchmen, and the ſu⯑periority they aſſumed in the civil government, during the diſtractions of Charles I. provoked the Houſe of Commons to take ſome meaſures to pre⯑vent their growing power, which that pious mo⯑narch was too much diſpoſed to favour. In conſe⯑quence of this, the leading members of the op⯑poſition petitioned the K [...]ng to remove the biſhops from their ſeats in Parliament, and degrade them to the ſtation of Commons, which was warmly [329] oppoſed by the high church lords, and the biſhops themſelves, who proteſted againſt whatever ſteps were taken during their reſtraint from Parliament, as illegal, upon this principle, that as they were part of the legiſlature, no law could paſs during their abſence, at leaſt if that abſence was produ⯑ced by violence, which Clarendon has fully re⯑preſented.
The prejudice againſt the epiſcopal government gaining ground, petitions to remove the biſhops were poured in from all parts of the kingdom, and as the earl of Strafford was then ſo obnoxious to the popular reſentment, his cauſe and that of the biſhops was reckoned by the vulgar, ſynoni⯑mous, and both felt the reſentment of an enraged populace. To ſuch a fury were the common people wrought up, that they came in bodies to the two Houſes of Parliament, to crave juſtice, both againſt the earl of Strafford, and the archbiſhop of Can⯑terbury, and, in ſhort, the whole bench of ſpiri⯑tual Peers; the mob beſieged the two Houſes, and threatened vengeance upon the biſhops, when⯑ever they came out. This fury excited ſome mo⯑tion to be made in the Houſe of Peers, to pre⯑vent ſuch tumults for the future, which were ſent down to the Houſe of Commons. The biſhops, for their ſafety, were obliged to continue in the Parliament Houſe the greateſt part of the night, and at laſt made their eſcape by bye-ways and ſtratagems. They were then convinced that it was no longer ſafe for them to attend the Parli⯑ament, 'till ſome meaſures were taken to repreſs the inſolence of the mob, and in conſequence of this, they met at the houſe of the archbiſhop of York, and drew up a proteſt, againſt whatever ſteps ſhould be taken during their abſence, occa⯑ſioned by violence. This proteſt, the biſhops in⯑tended ſhould firſt be given to the Secretary of State, and by him to the King, and that his Majeſty [330] ſhould cauſe it to be read in the Houſe of Peers; but in place of this, the biſhops were accuſed of high treaſon, brought before the bar of the Houſe of Peers, and ſent to the Tower. During their confinement, their enemies in the Houſe of Com⯑mons, took occaſion to bring in a bill for taking away the votes of biſhops in the Houſe of Peers: in this bill lord Falkland concurred, and it was ſupported by Mr. Hambden and Mr. Pym, the oracles of the Houſe of Commons, but met with great oppoſition from Edward Hyde, afterwards earl of Clarendon, who was a friend to the church, and could not bear to ſee their liberties infringed.
The biſhops petitioned to have council aſſigned them, in which they were indulged, in order to anſwer to the charge of high treaſon. A day was ap⯑pointed, the biſhops were brought to the bar, but nothing was effected; the Houſe of Commons at laſt finding that there could be no proof of high treaſon, dropt that charge, and were content to libel them for a miſdemeanor, in which they likewiſe but ill ſucceeded, for the biſhops were admitted to bail, and no proſecution was carried on againſt them, even for a miſdemeanor.
Being now at liberty, the greateſt part of them retired to their dioceſes, 'till the ſtorm which had threatened them ſhould ſubſide. Biſhop Hall repaired to Norwich, where he met, from the diſ⯑affected party, a very cold reception; he conti⯑nued preaching however in his cathedral at Nor⯑wich, 'till the order of ſequeſtration came down, when he was deſired to remove from his palace, while the ſequeſtrators ſeized upon all his eſtate, both real and perſonal, and appraized all the goods which were in the palace. The biſhop relates the ſollowing inſtance of oppreſſion which was inflicted on him; ‘'One morning (ſays his lordſhip) before my ſervants were up, there came to my gates one [331] Wright, a London trooper, attended with others requiring entrance, threatening if they were not admitted, to break open the gates, whom, I found at firſt ſight, ſtruggling with one of my ſervants for a piſtol which he had in his hand; I demanded his buſineſs at that unſeaſonable time; he told me he came to ſearch for arms and ammuniti⯑on, of which I muſt be diſarmed; I told him I had only two muſkets in the houſe, and no o⯑ther military proviſion; he not reſting upon my word, ſearched round about the houſe, looked in⯑to the cheſts and trunks, examined the veſſels in the cellar; finding no other warlike furniture, he asked me what horſes I had, for his com⯑miſſion was to take them alſo; I told him how poorly I was ſtored, and that my age would not allow me to travel on ſoot; in concluſion, he took one horſe away.'’
The committee of ſequeſtration ſoon after pro⯑ceeded to ſtrip him of all the revenue belonging to his ſee, and as he refuſed to take the covenant, the magiſtrates of the city of Norwich, who were no friends to epiſcopal juriſdiction, cited him be⯑fore them, for giving ordination unwarrantably, as they termed it: to this extraordinary ſummons the biſhop anſwered, that he would not betray the dignity of his ſtation by his perſonal appearance, to anſwer any complaints before the Lord Mayor, for as he was a Peer of the realm, no magiſtrate whatever had a right to take cognizance of his conduct, and that he was only accountable to the Houſe of Lords, of which he was one. The biſhop proceeds to enumerate the various inſults he re⯑ceived from the enraged populace; ſometimes they ſearched his houſe for malignants, at other times they threatened violence to his perſon; nor did their reſentment terminate here; they exerciſed their fury in the cathedral, tore down the altar, broke the organ in pieces, and committed a kind of ſa⯑crilegious [332] devaſtation in the church; they burnt the ſervice books in the market-place, filled the cathedral with m [...]ſket [...]ers, who behaved in it with as much indecency, as if it had been an alehouſe; they forced the biſhop out of his palace, and employed that in the ſame manner. Theſe are the moſt ma⯑terial hardſhips which, according to the biſhop's own account, happened to him, which he ſeems to have born with patience and fortitude, and may ſerve to ſhew the violence of party rage, and that religion is often made a pretence for committing the moſt outrageous inſolence, and horrid cru⯑elty. It has been already obſerved, that Hall ſeems to have been of an enthuſiaſtic turn of mind, which ſeldom conſiſts with any brilliance of genius; and in this caſe it holds true, for in his ſermons ex⯑tant, there is an imbecility, which can flow from no other cauſe than w [...]nt of parts. In poetry how⯑ever he ſeems to have greater power, which will appear when we conſider him in that light.
It cannot poſitively be determined on what year biſhop Hall died; he publiſhed that work of his called Hard Meaſure, in the year 1647, at which time he was ſeventy-three years of age, and in all probability did not long ſurvive it.
His eccleſiaſtical works are,
All theſe are printed in 4to, and were publiſhed 1660. There are alſo other Works of this author. An Edition of the whole has been printed in three Vols. folio.
Beſides theſe works, Biſhop Hall is author of Satires in Six Books, lately reprinted under the title of Virgidemiarum, of which we cannot give a better account than in the words of the ingenious authors of the Monthly Review, by which Biſhop Hall's genius for that kind of poetical writing will fully appear.
He publiſhed theſe Satires in the twenty third year of his age, and was, as he himſelf aſſerts in the Prologue, the firſt ſatiriſt in the Engliſh lan⯑guage.
And, if we conſider the diſſiculty of introducing ſo nice a poem as ſatire into a nation, we muſt al⯑low it required the aſſiſtance of no common and ordinary genius. The Italians had their Arioſto, and the French their Regnier, who might have ſerved him as models for imitation; but he copies after the ancients, and chiefly Juvenal and Perſius; though he wants not many ſtrokes of elegance and delicacy, which ſhew him perfectly acquainted with the manner of Horace. Among the ſeveral diſ⯑couragements which attended his attempt in that kind, he mentions one peculiar to the language and nature of the Engliſh verſification, which would appear in the tranſlation of one of Perſius's [335] Satires: The difficulty and diſſonance whereof, ſays he, ſhall make good my aſſertion; beſides the plain experience thereof in the Satires of Arioſto; ſave which, and one baſe French ſatire, I could never attain the view of any for my direction. Yet we may pay him almoſt the ſame compliment which was given of old to Homer and Archilochus: for the improvements which have been made by ſuc⯑ceeding poets bear no manner of proportion to the diſtance of time between him and them. The verſes of biſhop Hall are in general extremely mu⯑ſical and flowing, and are greatly preferable to Dr. Donne's, as being of a much ſmoother cadence; neither ſhall we find him deficient, if compared with his ſucceſſor, in point of thought and wit; but he exceeds him with reſpect to his characters, which are more numerous, and wrought up with greater art and ſtrength of colouring. Many of his lines would do honour to the moſt ingenious of our modern poets; and ſome of them have thought it worth their labour to imitate him, eſpe⯑cially Mr. Oldham. Biſhop Hall was not only our firſt ſatyriſt, but was the firſt who brought e⯑piſtolary writing to the view of the public; which was common in that age to other parts of Europe, but not practiſed in England, till he publiſhed his own epiſtles. It may be proper to take notice, that the Virgidemiarum are not printed with his other writings, and that an account of them is omitted by him, through his extreme modeſty, in the Specialities of his Life, prefixed to the third vo⯑lume of his works in folio.
The author's poſtſcript to his ſatires is prefixed by the editor in the room of a preface, and with⯑out any apparent impropriety. It is not without ſome ſignatures of the biſhop's good ſenſe and taſte; and, making a juſt allowance for the uſe of a few obſolete terms, and the puerile cuſtom [336] of that age in making affected repetitions and re⯑iterations of the ſame word within the compaſs of a period, it would read like no bad proſe at pre⯑ſent. He had undoubtedly an excellent ear, and we muſt conclude he muſt have ſucceeded conſi⯑derably in erotic or paſtoral poetry, from the following ſtanza's, in his Defiance to Envy, which may be conſidered as an exordium to his poetical writings.
The firſt three books of ſatires are termed by the author Toothleſs ſatires, and the three laſt Bit⯑ing ſatires. He has an animated idea of good po⯑etry, and a juſt contempt of poetaſters in the dif⯑ferent ſpecies of it. He ſays of himſelf, in the firſt ſatire.
He frequently avows his admiration of Spenſer, whoſe cotemporary he was. His firſt book, con⯑ſiſting of nine ſatires, appears in a manner entire⯑ly levelled at low and abject poetaſters. Several ſatires of the ſecond book reprehend the contempt of the rich, for men of ſcience and genius. We ſhall tranſcribe the ſixth, being ſhort, and void of all obſcurity.
The ſeventh and laſt of this book is a very juſt and humorous ſatire againſt judicial aſtrology, which was probably in as high credit then, as witchcraft wa [...] in the ſucceeding reign.
The firſt ſatire of the third book is a ſtrong con⯑traſt of the temperance and ſimplicity of former ages, with the luxury and effeminacy of his own times, which a reflecting reader would be apt to think no better than the preſent. We find the good biſhop ſuppoſes our anceſtors as poorly fed as Vir⯑gil's and Horace's ruſtics. He ſays, with ſufficient energy,
The ſecond is a ſhort ſatire on erecting ſtately monuments to worthleſs men. The following ad⯑vice is nobly moral, the ſubſequent ſarcaſm juſt and well expreſ [...]d.
The third gives an account of a citizen's feaſt, to which he was invited, as he ſays,
and whom he diſappointed by accepting his invi⯑tation at once, and not Maydening it; no inſigni⯑ficant term as he applies it: for, as he ſays,
After a ſumptuous bill of fare, our author com⯑pares the great plenty of it to our preſent notion of a miſer's feaſt—ſaying,
The fourth is levelled at Oſtentation in devotion, or in dreſs. The fifth repreſents the ſad plight of a courtier, whoſe Perewinke, as he terms it, the wind had blown off by unbonnetting in a ſalute, and expoſed his waxen crown or ſcalp. 'Tis pro⯑bable this might be about the time of their intro⯑duction into dreſs here. The ſixth, which is a fragment, contains a hyperbolical relation of a thirſty ſoul, called Gullion, who drunk Acheron dry in his paſſage over it, and grounded Charon's boat, but floated it again, by as liberal a ſtream of urine. It concludes with the following ſarcaſtical, yet wholeſome irony.
[340] The ſeventh and laſt is a humorous deſcrip⯑tion of a famiſhed beau, who had dined only with duke Humfrey, and who was ſtrangely adorned with exotic dreſs.
To theſe three ſatires he adds the following con⯑cluſion.
In his biting ſatires he breathes ſtill more of the ſpirit and ſtile of Juvenal, his third of this book being an imitation of that ſatiriſt's eighth, on Fa⯑mily-madneſs and Pride of Deſcent; the beginning of which is not tranſlated amiſs by our author. The principal object of his fourth ſatire, Gallio, would correſpond with a modern Fribble, but that he ſuppoſes him capable of hunting and hawking, which are exerciſes rather too coarſe and indeli⯑cate for ours: this may intimate perhaps, that the reign of the great Elizabeth had no character quite ſo unmanly as our age. In adviſing him to wed, however, we have no bad portrait of the Petit Maitre.
His fifth ſatire contraſts the extremes of Prodi⯑gality and Avarice; and by a few initials, which are ſkabbarded, it looks as if he had ſome indi⯑viduals in view; though he has diſclaimed ſuch an i [...]tention in his poſtſcript (now the preface) p. 6. l. n. 25, &c. His ſixth ſets out very much like the [341] firſt ſatire of Horace's firſt book, on the Diſſatis⯑faction and Caprice of mankind—Qui fit Mecaenas; and, after a juſt and lively deſcription of our dif⯑ferent purſuits in life, he concludes with the fol⯑lowing preference of a college one, which, we find in the Specialities of his life, he was greatly de⯑voted to in his youth. The lines, which are far from inelegant, ſeem indeed to come from his heart, and make him appear as an exception to that too general human diſcontent, which was the ſubject of this ſatire.
The laſt ſatire of this book is a ſevere one on the clergy of the church of Rome. He terms it POMH PYMH, by which we ſuppoſe he intended to brand Rome, as the Sink of Superſtition. He obſerves, if Juvenal, whom he calls Aquine's carp⯑ing ſpright, were now alive, among other ſurpriz⯑ing alterations at Rome,
The firſt ſatire of the fifth boek is levelled at Racking Landlords. The following lines are a ſtrong example of the taſte of thoſe times for the Punn and Paronomaſia.
The ſecond ſatire laſhes the incongruity of ſtately buildings and want of hoſpitality, and naturally reminds us of a pleaſant epigram of Martial's on the ſame occaſion, where after deſcribing the magnifi⯑cence of a villa, he concludes however, there is no room either to ſup or lodge in it. It ends with a tranſition on the contumely with which the paraſites are treated at the tables of the great; being a pret⯑ty cloſe imitation of Juvenal on the ſame ſubject. This ſatire has alſo a few ſkabbarded initials.
In his third, titled, ΚΟΙΝΑ ΦΙΛΩΝ, where he re⯑prehends Plato's notion of a political community of all things, are the following lines:
His laſt book and ſatire, for it conſiſts but of one, is a humorous ironical recantation of his former ſatires; as the author pretends there can be no juſt one in ſuch perfect times as his own. The latter part of it alludes to different paſſages in Juvenal; and he particularly reflects on ſome poetaſter he calls Labeo, whom he had repeatedly laſh'd before; and who was not improbably ſome cotemporary ſcribler.
Upon the whole, theſe ſatires ſufficiently evince both the learning and ingenuity of their author. [343] The ſenſe has generally ſuch a ſufficient pauſe, and will admit of ſuch a punctuation at the cloſe of the ſecond line, and the verſe is very often as harmo⯑nious too, as if it was calculated for a modern ear: tho' the great number of obſolete words retained would incline us to think the editors had not pro⯑cured any very extraordinary alteration of the origi⯑nal edition, which we have never ſeen. The pre⯑ſent one is nearly printed; and, if it ſhould oc⯑caſion another, we cannot think but a ſhort gloſſary at the end of it, or explanations at the bottom of the pages, where the moſt uncouth and antiquated terms occur, would juſtly increaſe the value of it, by adding conſiderably to the perſpicuity of this wri⯑ter; who, in other reſpects, ſeems to have been a learned divine, a conſcientious chriſtian, a lover of peace, and well endued with patience; for the exerciſe of which virtue, the confuſions at the lat⯑ter end of his life, about the time of the death of Charles I. furniſhed him with frequent op⯑portunities, the account of his own hard meaſures being dated in May 1647. We have met with no other poetical writings of the biſhop's, except three anthems, compoſed for the uſe of his ca⯑thedral-church, and indeed, it ſeems as if his con⯑tinual occupation after his youth, and his trou⯑bles in age, were ſufficient to ſuppreſs any future propenſity to ſatirical poetry: which we may in⯑fer from the concluſion of the firſt ſatire of his fourth book.
SON of an eminent divine named William Craſhaw, was educated in grammar learning in Sutton's-Hoſpital called the Charter-Houſe, near London, and in academical, partly in Pem⯑broke-Hall, of which he was a ſcholar, and af⯑terwards in Peterhouſe, Cambridge, of which he was a fellow, where, as in the former houſe, he was diſtinguiſhed for his Latin and Engliſh poe⯑try. Afterwards he took the degree of maſter of arts; but being ſoon after thrown out of his fellow⯑ſhip, with many others of the Univerſity of Cam⯑bridge, for denying the Covenant during the time of the rebellion, he was for a time obliged to ſhift for himſelf, and ſtruggle againſt want and oppreſſion. At length being wearied with per⯑ſecution and poverty, and foreſeeing the calamity which threatened and afterwards fell upon his church and country, by the unbounded fury of the Preſbyterians, he changed his religion, and went beyond ſea, in order to recommend himſelf to ſome Popiſh preferment in Paris; but being a mere ſcholar was incapable of executing his new plan of a livelihood. Mr. Abraham Cowley hearing of his being there, endeavoured to find him out, which he did, and to his great ſurprize ſaw him in a very miſerable plight: this happened in the year 1646. This generous bard gave him all the aſſiſtance he could, and obtained likewiſe ſome relief for him from Henrietta Maria the Queen Dowager, th [...]n reſiding at Paris. Our author receiving letters of recommendation from his Queen, he took a journey into Italy, and by [345] virtue of thoſe letters became a ſecretary to a Car⯑dinal at Rome, and at length one of the canons or chaplains of the rich church of our lady of Lo⯑retto, ſome miles diſtant from thence, where he died in 1650.
This conduct of Craſhaw can by no means be juſtified: when a man changes one religion for a⯑nother, he ought to do it at a time when no mo⯑tive of intereſt can well be ſuppoſed to have pro⯑duced it; for it does no honour to religion, nor to the perſon who becomes a convert, when it is evident, he would not have altered his opini⯑on, had not his party been ſuffering; and what would have become of the church of England, what of the Proteſtant religion, what of chriſti⯑anity in general, had the apoſtles and primitive martyrs, and later champions for truth, meanly a⯑bandoned it like Craſhaw, becauſe the hand of power was lifted up againſt it. It is an old ob⯑ſervation, that the blood of the martyrs is the ſeed of the church; but Craſhaw took care that the church ſhould reap no benefit by his perſe⯑verance. Before he left England he wrote poems, entitled, Steps to the Temple; and Wood ſays, ‘"That he led his life in St. Mary's church near to Peterhouſe, where he lodged under Tertullian's roof of angels; there he made his neſt more glad than David's ſwallow near the houſe of God, where like a primitive ſaint he offered more prayers in the night than others uſually offer in the day. There he pen'd the poems called Steps to the Temple for Happy Souls to climb to Heaven by. To the ſaid Steps are joined other poems, entitled, The Delights of the Muſes, wherein are ſeveral Latin poems; which tho' of a more humane mixture, yet are ſweet as they are innocent. He hath alſo writ⯑ten Carmen Deo Noſtro, being Hymns and o⯑ther ſacred Poems, addreſſed to the Counteſs of [346] Denbigh. He is ſaid to have been maſter of five languages, beſides his mother tongue, viz. He⯑brew, Greek, Latin, Italian, and Spaniſh."’
Mr. Craſhaw ſeems to have been a very deli⯑cate and chaſte writer; his language is pure, his thoughts natural, and his manner of writing ten⯑der.
AN author who lived in the reign of Charles I. and was ſome time a member of Pem⯑broke-Hall in Cambridge. There are no particu⯑lars on record concerning this poet. He was be⯑loved, ſays Langbaine, by Shakeſpear, Johnſon, and Fletcher, and writ with the former the Bri⯑tiſh Merlin, beſides what he joined in writing with poets of the third claſs, as Heywood, Middleton, Day, and Webſter.
The author has ſix plays in print of his own writing, which are as follows;
A Verſifier in the reign of King Charles I. was educated in the univerſity of Cambridge, and was deſigned for holy orders. He was deſcended from a family in Hertfordſhire, and was born at Leo⯑ſtoff in Suffolk. Whether he obtained any prefer⯑ment in the church, or was honoured with any great man's patronage, is no where determined. It is rea⯑ſonable to believe the contrary, becauſe good for⯑tune is ſeldom without the evidence of flattery, or envy, whereas diſtreſs and obſcurity, are almoſt in⯑ſeparable companions. This is further confirmed in ſome lines vehemently paſſionate, in a perform⯑ance of his called Piers Pennileſs; which to ſay nothing of the poetry, are a ſtrong picture of rage, and deſpair, and part of which as they will ſhew that he was no mean verſifier, ſhall be quoted by way of ſpecimen. In the abovementioned piece of Piers [348] Pennileſs, or Supplication to the Devil, he had ſome reflections on the parentage of Dr. Harvey, his ſa⯑ther being arope-maker of Saffron-Walden. This pro⯑duced conteſts between the Doctor and him, ſo that it became a paper war. Amongſt other books which Mr. Naſh wrote againſt him, was one entitled, Have with ye, to Saffron Walden; and another called, Four letters confuted. He wrote likewiſe a poem, called, The White Herring and the Red. He has publiſhed two plays, Dido Queen of Carthage, in which he joined with Marloe: and Summers laſt Will and Teſtament, a Comedy. Langbaine ſays, he could never procure a ſight of either of theſe, but as to the play called, See me, and See me not, aſcribed to him by Winſtanley, he ſays, it is written by one Drawbridgecourt Belchier, Eſq Thomas Naſh had the reputation of a ſharp ſatiriſt, which talent he exerted with a great deal of acrimony a⯑gainſt the Covenanters and Puritans of his time: He likewiſe wrote a piece called, The Fourfold way to Happineſs, in a dialogue between a countryman, citizen, divine, and lawyer, printed in 4to. London, 1633.
In an old poem called the return to Parnaſſus; or a ſcourge for Simony, Naſh's character is ſummed up in four lines. which Mrs. Cooper thinks is im⯑partially done.
From his PIERS PENNILESS.
A Gentleman of the Middle-Temple, who wrote in the reign of Charles I. He was a well-wiſher to the muſes, and a friend and acquaint⯑ance of moſt of the poets of his time, He was not only a partner with Rowley and Decker in the Witch of Edmonton, and with Decker in the Sun's Darling; but wrote likewiſe himſelf ſeven plays, moſt of which were acted at the Phaenix in the Black-Fryars, and may be known by an Ana⯑gram inſtead of his name, generally printed in the title-page, viz.
[350] FIDE HONOR.
His genius was more turned for tragedy than comedy, which occaſioned an old poet to write thus of him:
Theſe particulars I find in Mr. Langbaine, who gives the following account of his plays;
[351] The author, ſays Langbaine, has imbelliſhed this Play with ſeveral Fancies from other Writers, which he has appoſitely brought in, as the Story of the Contention between the Muſician and the Night⯑ingale, deſcribed in Strada's academical Proluſions, Lib. ii. Prol. 6.
LIVED in the reign of King Charles I. he was cotemporary with Johnſon, Fletcher, Maſlin⯑ger and Rowley, in whoſe friendſhip he is ſaid to have ſhared, and though he fell much ſhort of the two former, yet being joined with them in writ⯑ing plays, he arrived at ſome reputation. He joined with Fletcher and Johnſon in a play call⯑ed The Widow, and the higheſt honour that is known of this poet, is, his being admitted to make a triumvirate with two ſuch great men: he joined with Maſſinger and Rowley in writing the Old Law; he was likewiſe aſſiſted by Row⯑ley in writing three plays*. We have not been able to find any particulars of this man's life, further than his friendſhip and connection already mentioned, owing to his obſcurity, as he was never conſidered as a genius, concerning which the world thought themſelves intereſted to preſerve any particulars.
His dramatic works are,