Ithappened by mere accident that so obscure a man as Ephraim Barnett, with no peculiar zeal for genius, and with no other scope or intention than a lesson for his descendants, has preserved an authentic memorial of the principal event both in the life of Shakspeare and of Spenser; the one event was very near the cause of terminating Shakspeare’s, the other did terminate Spenser’s. He accounts for his knowledge of the facts naturally enough, as those will readily admit who have the patience to read his paper on the subject. It would be inhumane in the Editor to ask any of it for himself, when it is about to undergo such an exertion.
Essex.
“Instantlyon hearing of thy arrival from Ireland I sent a message to thee, good Edmund, that I might learn from one so judicious and dispassionate as thou art, the real state of things in that distracted country,—it having pleased the queen’s majesty to think of appointing me her deputy, in order to bring the rebellious to submission.”
Spenser.
“Wisely and well considered; but more worthily of her judgment than her affection. May your lordship overcome, as you have ever done, the difficulties and dangers you foresee.”
Essex.
“We grow weak by striking at random; and knowing that I must strike, and strike heavily, I would fain see exactly where the stroke shall fall.
“Some attribute to the Irish all sorts of excesses; others tell us that these are old stories; that there is not a more inoffensive race of merry creatures under heaven, and that their crimes are all hatched for them here in England, by the incubation of printers’ boys, and are brought to market at times of distressing dearth in news. From all that I myself have seen of them, I can only say that the civilized (I mean the richer and titled) are as susceptible of heat as iron, and as impenetrable to light as granite. The half-barbarous are probably worse; the utterly barbarous may be somewhat better. Like game-cocks, they must spur when they meet. One fights because he fights an Englishman; another because the fellow he quarrels with comes from a distant county; a third because the next parish is an eyesore to him, and his fist-mate is from it. The only thing in which they all agree as proper law is the tooth-for-tooth act. Luckily we have a bishop who is a native, and we called him before the queen. He represented to her majesty that every thing in Old Ireland tended to re-produce its kind,—crimes among others; and he declared, frankly, that if an honest man is murdered, or what is dearer to an honest man, if his honour is wounded in the person of his wife, it must beexpected that he will retaliate. Her Majesty delivered it as her opinion that the latter case of vindictiveness was more likely to take effect than the former. But the bishop replied that in his conscience he could not answer for either if the man was up. The dean of the same diocese gave us a more favorable report. Being a justice of the peace, he averred most solemnly that no man ever had complained to him of murder, excepting one who had lost so many fore-teeth by a cudgel that his deposition could not be taken exactly,—added to which, his head was a little clouded with drunkenness; furthermore, that extremely few women had adduced sufficiently clear proofs of violence, excepting those who were wilful and resisted with tooth and nail. In all which cases it was difficult, nay impossible, to ascertain which violence began first and lasted longest.
“There is not a nation upon earth that pretends to be so superlatively generous and high-minded; and there is not one (I speak from experience) so utterly base and venal. I have positive proof that the nobility, in a mass, are agreed to sell, for a stipulated sum, all their rights and privileges, so much per man; and the queen is inclined thereunto. But would our parliament consent to pay money for acargo of rotten pilchards? And would not our captains be readier to swamp than to import them? The noisiest rogues in that kingdom, if not quieted by a halter, may be quieted by making them brief-collectors, and by allowing them first to encourage the incendiary, then to denounce and hang him, and lastly to collect all the money they can, running up and down with the whining ferocity of half-starved hyenas, under pretence of repairing the damages their exhausted country hath sustained. Others ask modestly a few thousands a year, and no more, from those whom they represent to us as naked and famished; and prove clearly to every dispassionate man who hath a single drop of free blood in his veins that at least this pittance is due to them for abandoning their liberal and lucrative professions, and for endangering their valuable lives on the tempestuous seas, in order that the voice of Truth may sound for once upon the shores of England, and Humanity cast her shadow on the council-chamber.
“I gave a dinner to a party of these fellows a few weeks ago. I know not how many kings and princes were amongst them, nor how many poets, and prophets, and legislators, and sages. When they were half-drunk, they coaxed and threatened; when they had gonesomewhat deeper, they joked, and croaked, and hiccoughed, and wept over sweet Ireland; and when they could neither stand nor sit any longer, they fell upon their knees and their noddles, and swore that limbs, life, liberty, Ireland, and God himself, were all at the queen’s service. It was only their holy religion, the religion of their forefathers— Here sobs interrupted some, howls others, execrations more, and the liquor they had ingulfed, the rest. I looked down on them with stupor and astonishment, seeing faces, forms, dresses, much like ours, and recollecting their ignorance, levity, and ferocity. My pages drew them gently by the heels down the steps; my grooms set them upright (inasmuch as might be) on their horses; and the people in the streets, shouting and pelting, sent forward the beasts to their straw.
“Various plans have been laid before us for civilising or coercing them. Among the pacific, it was proposed to make an offer to five-hundred of the richer Jews in the Hanse-towns and in Poland, who should be raised to the dignity of the Irish peerage, and endowed with four thousand acres of good forfeited land, on condition of each paying two thousand pounds, and of keeping up ten horsemen and twenty foot, Germans or Poles, in readiness for service.
“The Catholics bear no where such ill-will toward Jews as toward Protestants. Brooks make even worse neighbours than oceans do.
“I myself saw no objection to the measure; but our gracious queen declared she had an insuperable one—they stank! We all acknowledged the strength of the argument, and took out our handkerchiefs. Lord Burleigh almost fainted; and Raleigh wondered how the Emperor Titus could bring up his men against Jerusalem.
“‘Ah!’ said he, looking reverentially at her Majesty, ‘the star of Berenice shone above him! and what evil influence could that star not quell? what malignancy could it not annihilate?’
“Hereupon he touched the earth with his brow, until the queen said,—
“‘Sir Walter! lift me up those laurels.’
“At which manifestation of princely goodwill he was advancing to kiss her Majesty’s hand, but she waved it, and said, sharply,—
“‘Stand there, dog!’
“Now what tale have you for us?”
Spenser.
“Interrogate me, my lord, that I may answer each question distinctly, my mind beingin sad confusion at what I have seen and undergone.”
Essex.
“Give me thy account and opinion of these very affairs as thou leftest them; for I would rather know one part well than all imperfectly; and the violences of which I have heard within the day surpass belief.
“Why weepest thou, my gentle Spenser? Have the rebels sacked thy house?”
Spenser.
“They have plundered and utterly destroyed it.”
Essex.
“I grieve for thee, and will see thee righted.”
Spenser.
“In this they have little harmed me.”
Essex.
“Howl I have heard it reported that thy grounds are fertile and thy mansion[211]large and pleasant.”
Spenser.
“If river, and lake, and meadow-ground, and mountain, could render any place the abode of pleasantness, pleasant was mine, indeed!
“On the lovely banks of Mulla I found deep contentment. Under the dark alders did I muse and meditate. Innocent hopes were my gravest cares, and my playfullest fancy was with kindly wishes. Ah! surely, of all cruelties the worst is to extinguish our kindness. Mine is gone: I love the people and the land no longer. My lord, ask me not about them; I may speak injuriously.”
Essex.
“Think rather, then, of thy happier hours and busier occupations; these likewise may instruct me.”
Spenser.
“The first seeds I sowed in the garden, ere the old castle was made habitable for my lovely bride, were acorns from Penshurst. I planted a little oak before my mansion at the birth of each child. ‘My sons,’ I said to myself, ‘shall often play in the shade of them when I am gone, and every year shall they take the measure of their growth, as fondly as I take theirs.’”
Essex.
“Well, well; but let not this thought make thee weep so bitterly.”
Spenser.
“Poison may ooze from beautiful plants; deadly grief from dearest reminiscences.
“Imustgrieve, Imustweep; it seems the law of God, and the only one that men are not disposed to contravene. In the performance of this alone do they effectually aid one another.”
Essex.
“Spenser! I wish I had at hand any arguments or persuasions of force sufficient to remove thy sorrow; but really I am not in the habit of seeing men grieve at any thing except the loss of favour at court, or of a hawk, or of a buck-hound. And were I to swear out my condolences to a man of thy discernment, in the same round, roll-call phrases we employ with one another upon these occasions, I should be guilty, not of insincerity, but of insolence. True grief hath ever something sacred in it, and when it visiteth a wise man and a brave one, is most holy.
“Nay, kiss not my hand; he whom Godsmiteth hath God with him. In his presence what am I?”
Spenser.
“Never so great, my lord, as at this hour, when you see aright who is greater. May He guide your counsels, and preserve your life and glory!”
Essex.
“Where are thy friends? Are they with thee?”
Spenser.
“Ah, where indeed? Generous, true-hearted Philip! where art thou? whose presence was unto me peace and safety, whose smile was contentment, and whose praise renown. My lord! I cannot but think of him among still heavier losses; he was my earliest friend, and would have taught me wisdom.”
Essex.
“Pastoral poetry, my dear Spenser, doth not require tears and lamentations. Dry thine eyes; rebuild thine house. The queen and council, I venture to promise thee, will make ample amends for every evil thou hast sustained. What! does that enforce thee to wail yet louder?”
Spenser.
“Pardon me, bear with me, most noble heart! I have lost what no council, no queen, no Essex can restore.”
Essex.
“We will see that! There are other swords, and other arms to wield them, besides a Leicester’s and a Raleigh’s. Others can crush their enemies and serve their friends.”
Spenser.
“O my sweet child! And of many so powerful, many so wise and so beneficent, was there none to save thee? None! none!”
Essex.
“I now perceive that thou lamentest what almost every father is destined to lament. Happiness must be bought, although the payment may be delayed. Consider; the same calamity might have befallen thee here in London. Neither the houses of ambassadors, nor the palaces of kings, nor the altars of God himself, are asylums against death. How do I know but under this very roof there may sleep some latent calamity, that in an instant shall coverwith gloom every inmate of the house, and every far dependent?”
Spenser.
“God avert it!”
Essex.
“Every day, every hour of the year, do hundreds mourn what thou mournest.”
Spenser.
“Oh, no, no, no! Calamities there are around us; calamities there are all over the earth; calamities there are in all seasons; but none in any season, none in any place, like mine.”
Essex.
“So say all fathers, so say all husbands. Look at any old mansion-house, and let the sun shine as gloriously as it may on the golden vanes, or the arms recently quartered over the gateway, or the embayed window, and on the happy pair that haply is toying at it; nevertheless, thou mayest say that of a certainty the same fabric hath seen much sorrow within its chambers, and heard many wailings; and each time this was the heaviest stroke of all. Funerals have passed along through the stout-heartedknights upon the wainscot, and amidst the laughing nymphs upon the arras. Old servants have shaken their heads, as if somebody had deceived them, when they found that beauty and nobility could perish.
“Edmund! the things that are too true pass by us as if they were not true at all; and when they have singled us out, then only do they strike us. Thou and I must go too. Perhaps the next year may blow us away with its fallen leaves.”[217]
Spenser.
“For you, my lord, many years (I trust) are waiting; I never shall see those fallen leaves. No leaf, no bud will spring upon the earth before I sink into her breast for ever.”
Essex.
“Thou, who art wiser than most men, shouldst bear with patience, equanimity, and courage, what is common to all.”
Spenser.
“Enough! enough! enough! Have all men seen their infant burnt to ashes before their eyes?”
WRITTEN UPON THE INNER COVER.
Studyingthe benefit and advantage of such as by God’s blessing may come after me, and willing to shew them the highways of Providence from the narrow by-lane in the which it hath been his pleasure to station me, and being now advanced full-nigh unto the close and consummation of my earthly pilgrimage, methinks I cannot do better, at this juncture, than preserve the looser and lesser records of those who have gone before me in the same, with higher heel-piece to their shoe and more polished scallop to their beaver. And here, beforehand, let us think gravely and religiously on what the pagans, in their blindness, did call fortune, making a goddess of her, and saying,—
“One body she lifts up so highAnd suddenly, she makes him cryAnd scream as any wench might doThat you should play the rogue unto.And the same Lady Light sees goodTo drop another in the mud,Against all hope and likelihood.”[221]
“One body she lifts up so highAnd suddenly, she makes him cryAnd scream as any wench might doThat you should play the rogue unto.And the same Lady Light sees goodTo drop another in the mud,Against all hope and likelihood.”[221]
My kinsman, Jacob Eldridge, having been taught by me, among other useful things, to write a fair and laudable hand, was recommended and introduced by our worthy townsman, Master Thomas Greene, unto the Earl of Essex, to keep his accounts, and to write down sundry matters from his dictation, even letters occasionally. For although our nobility, very unlike the French, not only can read and write, but often do, yet some from generosity, and some from dignity, keep in their employment what those who are illiterate, and would not appear so, call anamanuensis, thereby meaningsecretaryorscribe. Now it happened that our gracious queen’s highness was desirous of knowing all that could be known about the Rebellion in Ireland; and hearing but little truth from her nobility in that country, even the fathers in God inclining more unto court favour than will be readily believed of spiritual lords, and mouldingtheir ductile depositions on the pasteboard of their temporal mistress, until she was angry at seeing the lawn-sleeves so besmirched from wrist to elbow, she herself did say unto the Earl of Essex,—
“Essex! these fellows lie! I am inclined to unfrock and scourge them sorely for their leasings. Of that anon. Find out, if you can, somebody who hath his wit and his honesty about him at the same time. I know that when one of these paniers is full the other is apt to be empty, and that men walk crookedly for want of balance. No matter—we must search and find. Persuade—thou canst persuade, Essex!—say any thing, do any thing. We must talk gold and give—iron. Dost understand me?”
The earl did kiss the jewels upon the dread fingers, for only the last joint of each is visible; and surely no mortal was ever so foolhardy as to take such a monstrous liberty as touching it, except in spirit! On the next day there did arrive many fugitives from Ireland; and among the rest was Master Edmund Spenser, known even in those parts for his rich vein of poetry, in which he is declared by our best judges to excel the noblest of the ancients, and to leave all the moderns at his feet. Whether he notified hisarrival unto the earl, or whether fame brought the notice thereof unto his lordship, Jacob knoweth not. But early in the morrow did the earl send for Jacob, and say unto him,—
“Eldridge! thou must write fairly and clearly out, and in somewhat large letters, and in lines somewhat wide apart, all that thou hearest of the conversation I shall hold with a gentleman from Ireland. Take this gilt and illumined vellum, and albeit the civet make thee sick fifty times, write upon it all that passes! Come not out of the closet until the gentleman hath gone homeward. The queen requireth much exactness; and this is equally a man of genius, a man of business, and a man of worth. I expect from him not only what is true, but what is the most important and necessary to understand rightly and completely; and nobody in existence is more capable of giving me both information and advice. Perhaps if he thought another were within hearing he would be offended or over-cautious. His delicacy and mine are warranted safe and sound by the observance of those commands which I am delivering unto thee.”
It happened that no information was given in this conference relating to the movements or designs of the rebels. So that Master Jacob Eldridge was left possessor of the costly vellum,which, now Master Spenser is departed this life, I keep as a memorial of him, albeit oftener than once I have taken pounce box and penknife in hand, in order to make it a fit and proper vehicle for my own very best writing. But I pretermitted it, finding that my hand is no longer the hand it was, or rather that the breed of geese is very much degenerated, and that their quills, like men’s manners, are grown softer and flaccider. Where it will end God only knows; I shall not live to see it.
Alas, poor Jacob Eldridge! he little thought that within twelve months his glorious master, and the scarcely less glorious poet, would be no more! In the third week of the following year was Master Edmund buried at the charges of the earl; and within these few days hath this lofty nobleman bowed his head under the axe of God’s displeasure,—such being our gracious queen’s. My kinsman Jacob sent unto me by the Alcester drover, old Clem Fisher, this, among other papers, fearing the wrath of that offended highness which allowed not her own sweet disposition to question or thwart the will divine. Jacob did likewise tell me in his letter that he was sure I should be happy to hear the success of William Shakspeare, our townsman. And in truth right glad was I to hear of it, beinga principal in bringing it about, as those several sheets will shew which have the broken tile laid upon them to keep them down compactly.
Jacob’s words are these:—
“Now I speak of poets, you will be in a maze at hearing that our townsman hath written a power of matter for the playhouse. Neither he nor the booksellers think it quite good enough to print; but I do assure you, on the faith of a Christian, it is not bad; and there is rare fun in the last thing of his about Venus, where a Jew, one Shiloh, is choused out of his money and his revenge. However, the best critics and the greatest lords find fault, and very justly, in the words,—
“‘Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?’
“‘Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?’
“Surely, this is very unchristianlike. Nay, for supposition sake, suppose it to be true, was it his business to tell the people so? Was it his duty to ring the crier’s bell and cry to them,The sorry Jews are quite as much men as you are? The impudentest thing (excepting some bauderies) that ever came from the stage! The church, luckily, has let him alone for thepresent; and the queen winks upon it. The best defence he can make for himself is that it comes from the mouth of a Jew, who says many other things as abominable. Master Greene may overrate him; but Master Greene declares that if William goes on improving and taking his advice, it will be desperate hard work in another seven years to find so many as half a dozen chaps equal to him within the liberties. Master Greene and myself took him with us to see the burial of Master Edmund Spenser in Westminster Abbey, on the 19th of January last. The halberdmen pushed us back as having no business there. Master Greene told them he belonged to the queen’s company of players. William Shakspeare could have said the same, but did not. And I, fearing that Master Greene and he might be halberded back into the crowd, shewed the badge of the Earl of Essex. Whereupon did the serjeant ground his halberd, and say unto me,—
“‘That badge commands admittance everywhere; your folk likewise may come in.’
“Master Greene was red-hot angry, and told me he would bring him before thecouncil.
“William smiled, and Master Greene said,—
“‘Why! would not you, if you were in my place?’
“He replied,—
“‘I am an half inclined to do worse,—to bring him before theaudiencesome spare hour.’
“At the close of the burial-service all the poets of the age threw their pens into the grave, together with the pieces they had composed in praise or lamentation of the deceased. William Shakspeare was the only poet who abstained from throwing in either pen or poem,—at which no one marvelled, he being of low estate, and the others not having yet taken him by the hand. Yet many authors recognised him, not indeed as author, but as player; and one, civiller than the rest, came up unto him triumphantly, his eyes sparkling with glee and satisfaction, and said, consolatorily,—
“‘In due time, my honest friend, you may be admitted to do as much for one of us.’
“‘After such encouragement,’ replied our townsman, ‘I am bound in duty to give you the preference, should I indeed be worthy.’
“‘This was the only smart thing he uttered all the remainder of the day; during the whole of it he appeared to be half-lost, I know not whether in melancholy or in meditation, and soon left us.”
Here endeth all that my kinsman Jacob wroteabout William Shakspeare, saving and excepting his excuse for having written so much. The rest of his letter was on a matter of wider and weightier import, namely, on the price of Cotteswolde cheese at Evesham fair. And yet, although ingenious men be not among the necessaries of life, there is something in them that makes us curious in regard to their goings and doings. It were to be wished that some of them had attempted to be better accountants; and others do appear to have laid aside the copybook full early in the day. Nevertheless, they have their uses and their merits. Master Eldridge’s letter is the wrapper of much wholesome food for contemplation. Although the decease (within so brief a period) of such a poet as Master Spenser, and such a patron as the earl, be unto us appalling, we laud and magnify the great Disposer of events, no less for his goodness in raising the humble than for his power in extinguishing the great. And peradventure ye, my heirs and descendants, who shall read with due attention what my pen now writeth, will say, with the royal Psalmist, that it inditeth of a good matter, when it sheweth unto you that, whereas it pleased the queen’s highness to send a great lord before the judgment-seat of Heaven, having fitted him bymeans of such earthly instruments as princes in like cases do usually employ, and deeming (no doubt) in her princely heart that by such shrewd tonsure his head would be best fitted for a crown of glory, and thus doing all that she did out of the purest and most considerate love for him,—it likewise hath pleased her highness to use her right hand as freely as her left, and to raise up a second burgess of our town to be one of her company of players. And ye, also, by industry and loyalty, may cheerfully hope for promotion in your callings, and come up (some of you) as nearly to him in the presence of royalty, as he cometh up (far off, indeed, at present) to the great and wonderful poet who lies dead among more spices than any phœnix, and more quills than any porcupine. If this thought may not prick and incitate you, little is to be hoped from any gentle admonition, or any earnest expostulation, of
Your loving friend and kinsman,
E. B.
ANNO ÆT. SUÆ 74, DOM. 1599,DECEMB. 16;GLORIA DP. DF. ET DSS.AMOR VERSUS VIRGINEM REGINAM!PROTESTANTICE LOQUOR ET HONESTO SENSU:OBTESTOR CONSCIENTIAM MEAM!
PRINTED BYSPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARELONDON
[8a]Quicken, bring to life.
[8b]Debtors were often let out of prison at the coronation of a new king; but creditors never paid by him.
[21a]The word here omitted is quite illegible. It appears to have some reference to the language of the Highlanders. That it was rough and outlandish is apparent from the reprimand of Sir Thomas.
[29a]By this deposition it would appear that Shakspeare had formed the idea, if not the outline, of several plays already, much as he altered them, no doubt, in after life.
[38a]The greater part of the value of the present work arises from the certain information it affords us on the price of small needles in the reign of Elizabeth. Fine needles in her days were made only at Liege, and some few cities in the Netherlands, and may be reckoned among those things which were much dearer than they are now.
[39b]Mr. Tooke had not yet published hisPantheon.
[44a]This was really the case within our memory.
[45a]It was formerly thought, and perhaps is thought still, that the hand of a man recently hanged, being rubbed on the tumour of the king’s evil, was able to cure it. The crown and the gallows divided the glory of the sovereign remedy.
[46a]And yet he never did sail any farther than into Bohemia.
[50a]Smock, formerly a part of the female dress, corresponding withshroud, or what we now call (or lately called)shirtof the man’s. Fox, speaking of Latimer’s burning, says, “Being slipped into hisshroud.”
[50b]Faith nailing the ears is a strong and sacred metaphor. The rhyme is imperfect,—Shakspeare was not always attentive to these minor beauties.
[53a]Shakspeare seems to have profited afterward by this metaphor, even more perhaps than by all the direct pieces of instruction in poetry given him so handsomely by the worthy knight. And here it may be permitted the editor to profit also by the manuscript, correcting in Shakspeare what is absolute nonsense as now printed:—
“Vaultingambition that o’erleapsitself.”
“Vaultingambition that o’erleapsitself.”
It should be itssell.Sellissaddlein Spenser and elsewhere, from the Latin and Italian.
This emendation was shewn to the late Mr. Hazlitt, an acute man at least, who expressed his conviction that it was the right reading, and added somewhat more in approbation of it.
[55a]It has been suggested that this answer was borrowed from Virgil, and goes strongly against the genuineness of the manuscript. The Editor’s memory was upon the stretch to recollect the words; the learned critic supplied them:—
“Solum Æneas vocat:et vocet, oro.”
“Solum Æneas vocat:et vocet, oro.”
The Editor could only reply, indeed weakly, thatcallingandwaitingare not exactly the same, unless when tradesmen rap and gentlemen are leaving town.
[66a]Here the manuscript is blotted; but the probability is that it wasfishmonger, rather thanironmonger, fishmongers having always been notorious cheats and liars.
[70a]On the nailappears to be intended to expressready payment.
[72a]The Cordilleras are mountains, we know, running through South America. Perhaps a pun was intended; or possibly it might, in the age of Elizabeth, have been a vulgar term forhanging, although we find no trace of the expression in other books. We have no clue to guide us here. It might be suggested that Shakspeare, who shines little in geographical knowledge, fancied the Cordilleras to extend into North America, had convicts in his time been transported to those colonies. Certainly, many adventurers and desperate men went thither.
[89a]In that age there was prevalent a sort of cholera, on which Fracastorius, half a century before, wrote a Latin poem, employing the graceful nymphs of Homer and Hesiod, somewhat disguised, in the drudgery of pounding certain barks and minerals. An article in the Impeachment of Cardinal Wolsey accuses him of breathing in the king’s face, knowing that he was affected with this cholera. It was a great assistant to the Reformation, by removing some of the most vigorous champions that opposed it. In the Holy College it was followed by thesweating sickness, which thinned it very sorely; and several even of God’s vicegerents were laid under tribulation by it. Among the chambers of the Vatican it hung for ages, and it crowned the labours of Pope Leo XII., of blessed memory, with a crown somewhat uneasy.
[105a]Sir Thomas seems to have been jealous of these two towers, certainly the finest in England. If Warwick Castle could borrow the windows from Kenilworth, it would be complete. The knight is not very courteous on its hospitality. He may, perhaps, have experienced it, as Garrick and Quin did under the present occupant’s grandfather, on whom the title of Earl of Warwick was conferred for the eminent services he had rendered to his country as one of the lords of the bedchamber to his Majesty George the Second. The verses of Garrick on his invitation and visit are remembered by many. Quin’s are less known.
He shewed us Guy’s pot, but the soup he forgot;Not a meal did his lordship allow,Unless we gnaw’d o’er the blade-bone of the boar,Or the rib of the famousDun Cow.
When Nevile the great Earl of Warwick lived here,Three oxen for breakfast were slain,And strangers invited to sports and good cheer,And invited again and again.
This earl is in purse or in spirit so low,That he with no oxen will feed ’em;And all of the former great doings we knowIs, he gives us a book and we read ’em.
Garrick.
Stalepeers are but tough morsels, and ’t were wellIf we had found thefreshmore eatable;Garrick! I do not say ’t were well forhim,For we had pluck’d the plover limb from limb.
Quin.
[106a]Another untoward blot! but leaving no doubt of the word. The only doubt is whether he meant themuzzleof the animal itself, or one of those leathern muzzles which are often employed to coerce the violence of ferocious animals. In besieged cities men have been reduced to such extremities. But themuzzle, in this place, we suspect, would more properly be called theblinker, which is often put upon bulls in pastures when they are vicious.
[108a]This would countenance the opinion of those who are inclined to believe that Shakspeare was a Roman Catholic. His hatred and contempt of priests, which are demonstrated wherever he has introduced them, may have originated from the unfairness of Silas Gough. Nothing of that kind, we may believe, had occurred to him from friars and monks, whom he treats respectfully and kindly, perhaps in return for some such services to himself as Friar Lawrence had bestowed on Romeo,—or rather less; for Shakspeare was grateful. The words quoted by him from some sermon, now lost, prove him no friend to the filchings and swindling of popery.
[111a]It is a pity that the old divines should have indulged, as they often did, in such images as this. Some readers in search of argumentative subtility, some in search of sound Christianity, some in search of pure English undefiled, have gone through with them; and their labours (however heavy) have been well repaid.
[124a]Tilley valleywas the favourite adjuration of James the Second. It appears in the comedies of Shakspeare.
[133a]Whoreson, if we may hazard a conjecture, means the son of a woman of ill-repute. In this we are borne out by the context. It appears to have escaped the commentators on Shakspeare.
Whoreson, a word of frequent occurrence in the comedies; more rarely found in the tragedies. Although now obsolete, the expression proves that there were (or were believed to be) such persons formerly.
The Editor is indebted to two learned friends for these two remarks, which appear no less just than ingenious.
[153a]Belly-ache, a disorder once not uncommon in England. Even the name is now almost forgotten; yet the elder of us may remember at least the report of it, and some, perhaps, even the complaint itself, in our school-days. It usually broke out about the cherry season; and in some cases made its appearance again at the first nutting.
[157a]Sir Thomas borrowed this expression from Spenser, who thus calls Queen Elizabeth.
[159a]Humboldt notices this.
[164a]Pragmaticalhere means onlyprecise.
[181a]It is doubtful whether Doctor Buckland will agree with Sir Thomas that these petrifactions are ram’s-horns and lampreys.
[189a]She was then twenty-eight years of age. Sir Thomas must have spoken of her from earlier recollections. Shakspeare was in his twentieth year.
[193a]It is to be feared that his taste for venison outlasted that for matrimony, spite of this vow.
[211]It was purchased by a victualler and banker, the father or grandfather of Lord Riversdale.
[217]It happened so.
[221]The editor has been unable to discover who was the author of this very free translation of an Ode in Horace. He is certainly happy in his amplification of thestridore acuto. May it not be surmised that he was some favourite scholar of Ephraim Barnett?